:DAP.: H G.qAYJE. -a. HZY7E6'. SW 75CEP




CONTRIBUTIONS
TO THE
EDINBURGH REVIEW.
BY
FRANCIS JEFFREY,
NO3W ONE OF THE JUDGES OF THE COURT OF SESSLON IN SCOTLAND
FOUR VOLUMES.
COMPLETE IN ONE.
NEW YORK:
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY,
448 & 445 BROAD WAY.
M.DCCC.LX.




PROM TIM NEw YORI  EVENMG MPA.OL
" The true Jeffrey whom we meet with In these volumes, presents a character somewhat of this sort:" He was formed undoubtedly to be the first critic of the age: and of poetry, he was probably the best judge
that ever lived. An intellect of the highest capacity and of a very rare order of completeness,-educated by a
perfect acquaintance with the best systems of metaphysical philosophy,-is, in him, pervaded and informed by
those moral perceptions which indeed form so invariable an adjunct of the highest kind of great understandings
that they ought perhaps to be treated as nrerely the loftiest sort of mental qualities. His perception of truth is
almost an instinct, and his love of it truly conscientious. His objects, in taking up any work or subject, are to
appreciate and to judge; his searching and sensitive intelligence makes him sure of the former, and the sound
ness of his views fits him for the other. His temper is admirable. He seems to have no prepossessions-to be
free from all vanity and jealousy-to possess a tone of impartiality and generous candour, almost cavalier in its
loftiness. He has not a particle of cant, none of the formality or pretension of professional style; bute on the contrary, writes thoroughly like a gentleman, and with the air of perfect breeding. He inspires you with entire confidence and a cordial liking. All his own displays are in the tritest good taste-simple, easy, natural, without
ambition or effort. He has the powers, the morals, and the manners of the best style of writing. There are,
however, but two persons who stand so prominently before the world, that they deserve to be set for comparison
with Jeffrey: they, of course are Carlyle- and Macauley. We should distinguish them by saying that Macauley
is a good reviewer, but a sorry critic; Carlyle an admirable critic, but a miserable reviewer; while we look on
Jeffrey as, being at once the best critic and the best reviewer of the age.
" We must content ourselves with this brief note tending to propitiate the regard of the reader, in aavancee,
for the Lord Jeffrey; for our limits forbid extracts. Else, we could show a specimen of the most exquisite beauty
in composition, and of the noblest eloquence, that the literature of any age can furnish. But the strength of Jetl
trey does not lie in a paragraph, and sentences; but in the vigour, soundness and candour of the whole criticism,"




TO
THE REVEREND SYDNEY SMITH,
THE ORIGINAL PROJECTOR OF THE EDINBURGH REVIEW,
LONG ITS BRIGHTEST ORNAMENT2
AND ALWAYS MY TRUE AND INDULGENT FRIEN~D
J now  Wlbicate   tbi0 tUepublication;
FROM LOVE OF OLD RECOLLECTIONS)
AND IN TOKEN
OF UNCHANGED AFFECTION AND ESTEEM,
F. JEFFREY.








PREFACE.
No reasonable man, I suppose, could contemplate without alarm, a project for reprint.
ing, with his name, a long series of miscellaneous papers-written hastily, in the intervals
of graver occupations, and published anonymously, during the long course of Forty preceding years! —especially if, before such a suggestion was made, he had come to be placed in
a Situation which made any recurrence to past indiscretions, or rash judgments, peculiarly
unbecoming. I expect therefore to be very readily believed, when I say that the project of
this publication did not originate, and never would have originated with me: And that I have
been induced to consent to it only after great hesitation; and not without misgivingswhich have not yet been entirely got over. The true account of the matter ismthis.
The papers in question are the lawful property, and substantially at the disposal, of the
publishers of the Edinburgh Review: And they, having conceived an opinion that such a
publication would be for their advantage, expressed a strong desire that f should allow it to
go out with the sanction of my name, and the benefit of such suggestions as I might be disposed to offer for its improvement: and having, in the end, most liberally agreed that I
should have the sole power both of determining to what extent it should be carried and also
of selecting the materials of which it should be composed, I was at last persuaded to agree
to the proposition: and this the more readily, in consequence of intimation having been received of a similar publication being in contemplation in the United States of America;*over which, of course, I could not, under any arrangements, expect to exercise the same
efficient control.
With all this, however, I still feel that I am exposed to the imputation, not only of great
presumption, in supposing that any of these old things could be worth reprinting, but of a
more serious Impropriety, in thus openly acknowledging, and giving a voluntary sanction to
the republication (of some at least) of the following pieces: And I am far from being sure
that there may not be just grounds for such an imputation. In palliation of the offence,
however-if such offence shall be taken-I would beg leave humbly to state, First, that
what I now venture to reprint, is but a small partess I believe than a third -of what I
actually contributed to the Review; and, Secondly, tha        t ne d to select
from that great mass-not those articles which I might think most likely still to attract notices
(by boldness of view, severity of remark, or vivacity of expression-but those, much rather,
which, by enforcing what appeared to me just principles and useful opinions, I really thought
had a tendency to make men happier and better.
I am quite aware of the arrogance which may be ascribed to this statement-and even
of the ridicule which may attach to it. Nevertheless, it is the only apology which I now
wish to make-or could seriously think of making, for the present publication: And if it
should be thought utterly to fail me, I shall certainly feel that I have been betrayed into an
act, not of imprudence merely, but of great impropriety. I trust, however, that I shall not
be driven back on so painful a conviction.
The Edinburgh Review, it is well known, aimed high from the beginning:-And, refusing to confine itself to the humble task of pronouncing on the mere literary merits of the
works that came before it, professed to go deeply into the Princivles on which its judgments
were to be rested; as well as to take large and Original views  afo talimportant questions
to which those works might relate. And, on the whole, I think it is now pretty generally
admitted that it attained the end it aimed at. Many errors there were, of course —and some
considerable blunders: —abundance of indiscretions, especially in the earlier numbers; and
far too many excesses, both of party zeal, overweening confidence, and intemperate blame.
But with all these drawbacks, I think it must be allowed to have substantially succeededin familiarising the public mind (that is, the minds of very many individuals) with higher
* Carey & Hart, Philadelphia, announced that a selection would be made from the Edinburgh Review, at the time they first published a selection of Mr. Macauley's " Critical Miscellanies," and wrote to a friend of Lord Jeffrey, soliciting a list of that writer's articles. The publishers of the Review afterwards concluded to print these "Contributions,12 and at the author's
request, forwarded a copy of the work to C. & H., from which the present edition is printed, verbatim, without abridgment.- (Jmerican Publishers.)




v'                                  PREFACE.
-speculations, and sounder and larger views of the great objects of human pursuit, than had
ever before been brought as effectually home to their apprehensions; and also, in permanently raising the standard, and increasing the influence of all such Occasional writings; not
only in this country, but over the greater part of Europe, and the free States of America:
While it proportionally enlarged the capacity, and improved the relish of the growing multitudes to whom such writings were addressed, for " the stronger meats" which were then
first provided for their digestion.
With these convictions and impressions, it will not I think be expected, or required of
me, that I should look back-from any station-upon the part I took in originating and conducting such a work, without some mixture of agreeable feelings: And, while I seek not to
decline my full share of the faults and follies to which I have alluded, I trust I may be allowed to take credit, at the same time, for some participation in the Merits by which these
were, to a certain extent at least, redeemed or atoned for.
If I might be permitted farther to state, in what particular department, and generally,
on account of what I should most wish to. claim a share of those merits, I should certainly
say, that it was by having constantly endeavourecLtcombine Ethical precepts with Literary
Criticism, and earnes tly'sod-g'to f-thIecslmy readers wt lith  efse 6both of the close connection between sound Intellectual attainments and the higher elements of Duty and Enjoyment; and of the just and ultimate subordination of the former to the latter. The praise in
short to which I aspire, and'to merit which I am conscious that my efforts were most Constantly directed is, that I have, more uniformly and earnestly than any preceding critic, made
the Moral tendencies of the works under consideration a leading subject of discussion; and
neglected no opportunity, in reviews of Poems and Novels as well as of graver productions,
of elucidating the true constituents of human happiness and virtue: and combating those
tbes6tting prejudices and errors of opinion which appear so often to withhold men from the
path of their duty-or to array them in foolish and fatal hostility to each other. I cannot, of
course, do more, in this place, than intimate this proud claim: But for the proof-or at least
the explanation of it, —I think-I may venture to refer to the greater part of the papers that
follow.
I wrote the first article in the first Number of the Review, in October 1802:-and sent
my last contribution to it, in October 1840! It is a long period, to have persevered in well
-or in ill doing! But I was by no means equally alert in the service during all the intermediate time. I was sole Editor from 1803 till late in 1829;' and during that period was no
doubt a large and regular contributor.. In that last year, howeVer, I received the great honour
of being elected, by my brethren of the Bar, to the office of Dean of the Faculty of Advocates: —When it immediately occurred to me that it was not quite fitting that the official
head of a great Law Corporation should continue to be the conductor of what might be fairly.
enough represented as, in many respects, a Party Journal: and I consequently withdrew at
once and altogether from the management:*-which has ever since been in such. hands, as
can have left those who take an interest in its success, no cause to regret my retirement.
But I should not have acted up to the spirit of this resignation, nor felt that I had redeemed
the pledge of neutrality I meant to give by it, if I had not at the same time substantially
ceased to contribute to, or to concern myself, in any way, with the conduct or future fortunes
of the Review. I wrote nothing for it, accordingly, for a considerable time subsequent to
1829: and during the whole fourteen years that have since elapsed, have sent in all but
Four papers to that work-none of them on political subjects. I ceased, in reality to be a
contributor, in 1829.
In a professed Reprint of former publications I did not of course think myself entitled to
make (and accordingly I have not made) any change in the substance of what was originally
published-nor even in the expression, except where a slight verbal correction seemed necessary, to clear the meaning, or to remedy some mere slip of the pen. I have not however
held myself equally precluded from making occasional retrenchments from the papers as they
first appeared; though these are mostly confined to the citations that had been given from the
books reviewed —at least in the three first of these volumes: But notice, I believe, is given
of all the considerable omissions-(with some intimation of the reasons) —in the places where
they occur.
It will be observed that, in the Arrangement of the pieces composing this collection, I
have not followed, in any degree, the Chronological order of the original publications: though
the actual date of its first appearance is prefixed to each paper. The great extent and very
* For my own sake in part, but principally for the honour of my Conservative Brethren who
ultimately concurred in my appointment, I think it right to state, that this resignation was in no
degree a matter of compromise or arrangement, with a view to that appointment:-the fact being, on the contrary, that I gave no hint of my purpose, in any quarter, till after the election was
over-or at all events till after the withdrawal of the learned and distinguished Person who had
been put in nomination against me, had made it certain that my return would be unanimous.
His perseverance, I doubt not, might have endangered that result: For, though considerably my
iunior, his eminence in the profession was, even then I believe, quite equal to mine. But he
generously deferred to my Seniority.




PREFACE.                                   vil
miscellaneous nature of the subjects discussed, seemed to make such a course ineligible; and
rather to suggest the propriety of a distribution with reference to these subjects. I have now
attempted therefore to class them under a few general Heads or titles, with a view to such a
connection: And, though not very artificially digested, or strictly adhered to, I think the
convenience of most readers will be found to have been consulted by this arrangement.  The
particular papers in each group or division, have also been placed in the order, rather of their
natural dependence, or analogy to each other, than of the times when they were respectively
written. I am now sensible that, by adopting this plan, I have brought more strikingly into
view, the repetitions, as well as the discrepancies and small inconsistencies, which I take to
be incident to this kind of writing. But this is a reproach, or disadvantage, to which I must
be content to submit: and from which I do not apprehend that I shall have much to suffer,
in the judgment of good-natured readers. There are many more important matters as to
which I am conscious that I shall need all their indulgence: But to which I do not think it
necessary, as I am sure it would not be zrdent now to direct their attention.
Before closing this notice, there is a little matter as to which several of my friends have
suggested that I ought to take this opportunity of giving an explanation. My own first
impression was, that this was unnecessary; and, but for the illustrious name which is connected with the subject, I should still be of that opinion. As it is, I cannot now refuse to
say afew words on it.
In the second volume of Mr. Lockhart's Life of Sir Walter Scott, there are (at page 219)
several extracts from a letter of Sir Walter to Mr. George Ellis, dated in December 1808,
and referring among other things to the projected establishment of the Quarterly Review: in
connection with which topic, the following passage occurs-" Jeffrey has offered terms of
pacification-engaging that no party politics should again appear in his Review. I told him I
thought it was now too late; and reminded him that I had often pointed out to him the consequences of letting his work become a party tool. He said, he did not care for the consequences; They were but four men he feared as opponents, &c. All this was in great good
humour. He has no suspicion of our Review whatever."
Now though I have no particular recollection of the conversation here alluded to, and
should never dream, -at any rate, of setting up any recollection of so distant an occurrence in
opposition to a contemporary record of it by such a man as Sir Walter Scott-I feel myself
fully warranted in saying that the words I have put in italics are calculated to convey an
inaccurate impression of any thing I could possibly have said on that occasion;-and that I
am morally certain that I never offered to come under any such engagement as these words
in their broad and unqualified sense, would seem to imply. Of course, I impute no intentional
misrepresentation to Sir Walter Scott. Of that he was as incapable, as I trust I am of the
baseness of making the imputation. Neither can I think it possible that he should have
misunderstood me at the time. But in hastily writing a familiar letter I am satisfied that he
has expressed himself inaccurately-or at least imperfectly-and used words which convey
a far larger and more peremptory meaning than truly belonged to any thing I could have
uttered. My reasons for this conviction I think may be stated, to the satisfaction even of
those to whom the circumstances of the parties may yet be unknown.
My first reason is, that I most certainly had no power to come under any such engagement,
without the consent of the original and leading Contributors,-from whom no such consent
could then have been expected. I was not the Proprietor of the work-nor the representative,
in any sense, of the proprietors-but merely the chosen (and removeable) manager for the
leading contributors; the greater part of whom certainly then looked upon the Political
influence of the Review, as that which gave it its chief value and importance. This condition of things was matter of notoriety at Edinburgh at the time. But at all events nobody
was more thoroughly aware of it than Sir Walter Scott. He has himself mentioned, in the
passage already quoted, that he had frequently before remonstrated with me on what he
thought tlae intemperate tone of some our political articles: and though I generally made
the best defence I could for them, I distinctly remember more than one occasion on which,
after admitting that the youthful ardour of some of our associates had carried them farther
than I could approve of, I begged him to consider that it was quite impossible for me always
to repress this-and to remember that I was but a Feudal monarch, who had but a slender
control over his greater Barons-and really could not prevent them from occasionally waging
a little private war, upon griefs or resentments of their own. I am as certain of having
repeatedly expressed this sentiment, and used this illustration to Sir Walter Scott, as I am
of my own existence.
But in the next place it requires no precise recollection of words or occasions, to enable
me now to say, that, neither in 1808, nor for long periods before and after, did my party
principles (or prejudices or predilections) sit so loosely upon me, as that I should ever have
agreed to lay them aside, or to desist from their assertion, merely to secure the assistance
of a contributor (however distinguished), to what would then have been a mere literary
undertaking. For the value I then set on those principles I may still venture to refer to
twenty-five years spent as their uncompromising advocate —at the hazard at least, if not to
the injury, of my personal and professional interests. I have no wish at this moment to
tecall the particulars of that advocacy: But I think I may safely say that if, in December




viii                               PREFACE.
1808, I could have bargained to desist from it and to silence the Edinburgh Review as an organ
of party, I might have stipulated for somewhat higher advantages than the occasional co.
operation of Sir Walter Scott (for he never was a regular contributor even to the Quarterly) in
a work in which I had little interest beyond that of commanding a ready vehicle for the dissemination of my own favoured opinions.
All this rests, it will be observed, not upon the terms of any particular conversation, which
might of course be imperfectly remembered-but upon my own certain knowledge of the
principles by which I was actuated for a long course of years; and which I cannot but think
were then indicated by a sufficient number of overt acts, to make it easy to establish the
mastery they exercised over me, by extrinsic evidence, if necessary. If the prevalence of
these principles, however, is plainly inconsistent with the literal accuracy of the passage in
question, or the fact of my having actually made such an offer as is there mentioned, I think
myself entitled to conclude that the statement in that passage is inaccurate; and that a careless expression has led to an incorrect representation of the fact.
And here also I hope I may be permitted to refer to a very distinct recollection of the
tenor, not of one but of many conversations with Sir Walter, in which he was directly apprised
of the impossibility (even if I could have desired it) of excluding politics (which of course
could mean nothing but party politics) from the Review. The undue preponderance of such
articles in that journal was a frequent subject of remonstrance with him: and I perfectly
remember that when urging upon me the expediency of making Literature our great staple
and only indulging occasionally in those more exciting discussions, I have repeatedly told
him that, with the political influence we had already acquired, this was not to be expectedand that by such a course the popularity and authority of the Review would be fatally impaired, even for its literary judgments: —and upon one of these occasions, I am quite certain
that I made use of this expression to him- "The Review, in short, has but two legs to stand
on. Literature no doubt is one of them: But its Right leg is Politics." Of this I have the
clearest recollection.
I have dwelt too long, I fear, on this slight but somewhat painful incident of my early
days. But I cannot finally take leave of it without stating my own strong conviction of what
must have actually passed on the occasion so often referred to; and of the way in which 1
conceive my illustrious friend to have been led to the inaccuracy I have already noticed, in
his report of it. I have already said, that I do not pretend to have any recollection of this
particular conversation: But combining the details which are given in Sir Walter's letter,
with my certain knowledge of the tenor of many previous conversations on the same subject,
I have now little doubt that, after deprecating his threatened secession from our ranks, I
acknowledged my regret at the needless asperity of some of our recent diatribes on politicsexpressed my own disapprobation of violence and personality in such discussions-and
engaged to do what I could to repress or avoid such excesses for the future. It is easy, I
think, to see how this engagement,-to discourage, so far as my influence went, all violent
and unfair party politics,-might be represented, in Sir Walter's brief and summary report,
as an engagement to avoid party politics altogether: —the inaccuracy amounting only to the
omission of a qualification, —to which he probably ascribed less importance than truly
belonged to it.
Other imputations, I am aware, have been publicly made against me, far heavier than this
which has tempted me into so long an explanation. But with these I do not now concern
myself: And, as they never gave me a moment's anxiety at the time, so I am now contented
to refer, for their refutation, to the tenor of all I have ever written, and the testimony of all
to whom I have been personally known. With any thing bearing the name of Sir Walter
Scott, however, the case is different: And when, from any statement of his, I feel that I may
be accused, even of the venial offences of assuming a power which did not truly belong to
me-or of being too ready to compromise my political opinions, from general love to literature or deference to individual genius, I think myself called upon to offer all the explanations
in my power: —While I do not stoop to meet, even with a formal denial, the absurd and
degrading charges with which I have been occasionally assailed, by persons of a different
description.
F. JEFFREY.
Craigtrook, io0t November, 1843.




CONTENTS.
PIEF'ACE............... F.                              v
GENERAL LITERATURE AND LITERARY BIOGRAPHY.
Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste. By ARCHIBALD ALISON, LL. B., F. R. S.,
Prebendary of Sarum.................. 13.De la Litterature consideree dans ses Rapports avec les Institutions Sociales. Par Mad.
de STAEL-HOLSTEIN. Avec un Precis de la Vie et les Ecrits de 1'Auteur..... 40
The Complete Works, in Philosophy, Politics, and Morals, of the late Dr. Benjamin
Franklin. Now first collected and arranged. With Memoirs of his Early Life,
written by Himself.......................................   60
The Works of Jonathan Swift, D. D., Dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin. Containing Additional
Letters, Tracts, and Poems, not hitherto published. With Notes, and a Life of the
Author, by WALTER SCOTT, Esq............................................ 68
Correspondance inedite de Madame du Deffand, avec D'Alembert, Montesquieu, le President Henault, La Duchesse du Maine, Mesdames de Choiseul, De Staal, &c. &c.. 93
Lettres de Mademoiselle de Lespinasse, 6crites depuis l'Annee 1773 jusqu' a l'Ann6e
1776, &c...................................................... ib
Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship: a Novel. From the German of GOETHE.......... 104.
The Correspondence of Samuel Richardson, Author of Pamela, Clarissa, and. Sir Charles
Grandison; selected from the original Manuscripts bequeathed to his Family. To
which are prefixed, a Biographical Account of that Author, and Observations on his
Writings. By ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD...................................... 121
Correspondance, Litteraire, Philosophique et Critique. Adressee a un Souverain d'Allemagne, depuis 1770 jusqu'& 1782. Par le BARON DE GRIMM, et par DIDEROT.....  129
Memoirs of the Life and Writings of Victor Alfieri. Written by Himself............. 143
The Life and Posthumous Writings of William Cowper, Esq. With an Introductory
Letter to the Right Honourable Earl Cowper. By WILLIAM HAYLEY, Esq..... 154, 163
HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
Memoirs of the Life of Colonel Hutchinson, Governor of Nottingham Castle and Town,
Representative of the County of Nottingham in the Long Parliament, and of the
Town of Nottingham in the First Parliament of Charles II. &c.; with Original Anecdotes of many of the most distinguished of his Contemporaries, and a summary
Review of Public Affairs: Written by his Widow, Lucy, daughter of Sir Allen Apsley,
Lieutenant of the Tower, &c. Now first published from the Original Manuscript,
by the Rev. JULIUS HUTCHINSON, &C. &C. TO which is prefixed the Life of Mrs.
Hutchinson, written by Herself, a Fragment.................................. 168
Memoirs of Lady Fanshawe, Wife of the Right Honourable Sir Richard Fanshawe,
Baronet, Ambassador from Charles the Second to the Court of Madrid in 1665.
Written by Herself. To which are added, Extracts from the Correspondence of Sir
Richard Fanshawe......................................................... 179
Memoirs of Samuel Pepys, Esq. F. R. S., Secretary to the Admiralty in the Reigns of
Charles II. and James II., comprising his Diary from 1659 to 1669, deciphered by
the Rev. John Smith, A. B., of St. John's College, Cambridge, from the original Shorthand MS. in the Pepysian Library, and a Selection from his Private Correspondence.
Edited by RICHARD LORD BRAYBROOKE.........................,.          183
A History of the early Part of the Reign of James the Second; with ~an Introductory
Chapter. By the Right Honourable CHARLES JAMES Fox. To which is added an
Appendix.................'.............................. I.197
ix




xP~~~ ~CONTENTS.
PAO&
Memoires d'un Temoin de la Revolution; ou Journal des faits qui se sont passe sous see
yeux, et qui ont prepare et fix8 la Constitution Franqaise.  Ouvrage Posth.ume de
JEAN SYLVAIN BAILLY, Premier President de I'Assemblee Nationale Constituant,
Premier Maire de Paris et Membre des Trois Acad6mies.....................  210
Considerations sur les Principaux Ev~nemens de la R]6vlution Franqaise. Ouvrage
Posthume de Madame la Baronne de Sta0l. PubliB par M. LE Duc DE BROGLIE et
M. LE BARON A. DE STA.L.....:.................  216
Me'moires de Madame la Marquise de LAROCHEJAQUELEIN; avec deux Cartes du Theatre
de la Guerre de La Vendee..................................... 234
Memoires de Frederique Sophie Wilhelmine de Prusse, Margrave de Bareith, Scmur de
Frederic le Grand. ]crits de sa Main......................................... 249
History of the Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus. By WASHINGTON IRvING.... 259
Memoirs of Zehir-ed-din Muhammed Baber, Emperor of Hindustan, written by Himself
in the Jaghatai Turki, and translated partly by the late JOHN LEYDEN, Esq. M. D.,
partly by WILLIAM ERSKINE, Esq. With Notes and a Geographical and Historical
Introduction: together with a Map of the Countries between the Oxus and Jaxartes,
and a Memoir regarding its Construction, by CHARLES WADDINGTON, Esq., of the
East India Company's Engineers...........................................   272
POETRY.
Specimens of the British Poets; with Biographical and Critical Notices, and an Essay on
English Poetry. By THOMAS CAMPBElL...............      286
The Dramatic Works of John Ford; with an Introduction and Explanatory Notes. By
HENRY  WEBER) Esq...................................,....................  299
Characters of Shakespeare's Plays. By WILLIAM HAZLITT......................... 309
Sardanapalus, a Tragedy. The Two Foscari, a Tragedy. Cain, a Mystery. By LORD
BYRON...3.........................3.............................  316
Manfred; a Dramatic Poem. By LORD BYo ON.............................. 330
ileliques of Robert Burns, consisting chiefly of Original Letters, Poems, and Critical
Observations on Scottish Songs. Collected and published by R. H. CROMEK....... 335
Gertrude of Wyoming, a Penrrsylvania'tale; and other Poems. By THoMAs CAMPBELL,
author of "The Pleasures of Hope," &c.....................................    347
Theodric, a Domestic Tale: with other Poems. By TH'oMAS CAMPBELL........... 354
The Lay of the Last Minstrel: a Poem. By WALTER SCOTT........................ 359
The Lady of the Lake: a Poem. By WALTER SCOTT.............................367, Poems. By the Reverend GEORGaE CRABBE..................................... 380
The Borough: a Poem, in Twenty-four Letters. By the Rev. GEORGE CRABBE, LL. B. 387
Tales. By the Reverend GEORGE CRABBE.................................  396
Tales of the Hall. By the Reverend GEORGE CRABBE.......................... 405
7Endymion: a Poetic Romance. By JOHN KEATS..........................                 413
Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes, and other Poems. By JOHN KEATS, author of'`-7
"Endymion"............................................   b.
Human Life: a Poer. By SAMUEL ROGERS.......................................       419
Roderick: The Last of the Goths. By ROBERT SOUTHIIY, Esq., Poet-Laureate, and Member of the Royal Spanish Academy................................... 424
Childe Harold's PilgrmgCt th _Tir BiyJ RTBYON
f Childs Harold's P_ gim,g anto tha:Third,.By.Lo RD BYRON.............          434
The Prisoner of Chillon, and otherf1Porems. By LORD BYRaGN................  ib,
Lalla Rookh; an Oriental Romance. By THOIAS MOORE....................    446
The Excursion; being a Portion of the Recluse, a Poem. By WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.- 457
The White Doe of 1{ylstone; or the Fate of the Nortons: a Poem..By WILLIAM WORDSWORTH....................................................  4~9
Records of Women: with other Poems. By FELICIA HEMANS..................   473
The Forest Sanctuary: with other Poems. By FELICIA HEMANS................,
PHILOSOPHY OF THELMIND, METAPHYSICS, AND JURISPRUDENCE.
Traites de Legislation Civile et P~nale; prcede's de Principes G6n~raux de Legislation,
et d'une Vue d'un Corps complet de Droit; termines par un Essai sur'influence
des Tems et des Lieux relativement aux Lois. Par M. J.EREMIE BENTHAM, Jurisconsuite Anglois. Publics en Franqois par M. DuMONT de Genve, d'apris les Mantispts confies par 1LAuteur......................       479




CONTENTS.                                   x
bAGE.
Account of the Life and Writings of Thomas Reid, D.D., F.R.S. Edinburgh, late Professor
of Moral Philosophy in the University of Glasgow. By DUGALD STEWART, F.R.S.. 486
Memoirs of Dr. Joseph Priestley, to the Year 1795, written by himself: With a Continuation to the Time of his Decease, by his Son Joseph Priestley; and Observations on
his Writings. By THOMAS COOPER, President Judge of the Fourth District of Pennsylvania, and the Reverend WILLIAM CHRISTIE.......................... 499
Academical Questions. By the Right Honourable WILLIAM DRUMMOND; K.C., F.R.S.,
F.R.S.E. Author of a Translation of Persius....                          496
An Account of the Life and Writings of James Beattie, LL.D., late Professor of Moral
Philosophy and Logic in the Marischal College and University of Aberdeen: including many of his original Letters. By Sir W. FORBES of Pitsligo, Baronet, one of the
Executors of Dr. Beattie................................................. 501
Philosophical Essays. By DUGALD STEWART, Esq., F.R.S. Edinburgh, Emeritus Professor of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, &c. &c.............  504
NOVELS, TALES, AND PROSE WORKS OF FICTION.,Tales of Fashionable Life. By Miss EDGEWORTH, Author of "Practical Education,"
"Belinda," "Castle Rackrent," &c...................................... 512. 517
Waverley, or'Tis Sixty Years Since.....................................    523.
Tales of My Landlord, collected and arranged by Jedediah Cleishbotham, Schoolmaster
and Parish Clerk of the Parish of Gandercleugh..                         528
Rob Roy. By the Author of " Waverley," " Guy Mannering," and " The Antiquary" 535
Ivanhoe. A Romance. By the Author of "Waverley,' &c......................... 537
The Novels and Tales of the Author of "Waverley;" comprising "Waverley," "Guy
Mannering," " Antiquary," "Rob Roy," " Tales of My Landlord, First, Second, and
Third Series;" New Edition, with a copious Glossary..........................  ib.
The Fortunes of Nigel. By the Author of "Waverley," "Kenilworth," &c..       543
Annals of the Parish, or the Chronicles of Dalmailing, during the Ministry of the Rev.
Micah Balwhidder. Written by Himself.548
The Ayrshire Legatees, or the Pringle Family. By the Author of "Annals of the
Parish," &c.................................i.......... ib.
The Provost. By the Author of CC Annals of the Parish," "Ayrshire Legatees," &c.e...  ib.
Sir Andrew Wyllie of that Ilk. By the Author of  "Annals of the Parish," &c.....  ib.
The Steam Boat. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish," &cc............. ib.
The Entail, or the Lairds of Grippy. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish," "Sir
Andrew Wyllie," &c.................................  ib.
Ringan Gilhaize, or the Covenanters. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish," &c...  ib.
Valerius, a Roman Story.......................................................   b.
Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life..............................................  b.
Some Passages in the Life of Mr. Adam Blair, Minister of the Gospel at Cross-Meikle.. ib.
The Trials of Margaret Lyndsay. By the Author of " Lights and Shadows of Scottish
Life".................................................................... ib.
Reginald Dalton. By the Author of "Valerius," and " Adam Blair".................. ib.
GENERAL POLITICS.
Essay on the Practice of the British Government, distinguished from the abstract Theory on which it is supposed to be founded. By GOULD FRANCIS LEcKE.........    564
A Song of Triumph. By W. SOTHEBY, Esq.................................... 577
L'Acte Constitutionnel, en la Seance du 9 Avril, 1814.............................,~.
Of Bonaparte, the Bourbons, and the Necessity of rallying round our legitimate Princes
for the Happiness of France and of Europe. By F. CHATEAUBRIAND...... ib.
Speech of the Right Hon. William Windham, in the House of Commons, May 26, 1809,
on Mr. Curwen's Bill, "for better securing the Independence and Purity of Parliament, by Preventing the procuring or obtaining of Seats by corrupt Practices".. 594
Short Remarks on the State of Parties at the Close of the Year 1809................. 604
The History of Ireland. By JOHN O'DRIscoL.610
Memoirs of the Life of the Right Honourable Richard Brinsley Sheridan. By THOMAS
MOORE.................................  616




ci                                CONTENTS.
MISCELLANEOUS.
IF AGA
An Appeal from the Judgments of Great Britain respecting the United States of America.
Part First. Containing an Historical Outline of their Merits and Wrongs as Colonies,
and Strictures on the Calumnies of British Writers. By ROBERT WALSH, Esq...... 621
Bracebridge Hall; or, the Humourists. By GEOFFREY CRAYON, Gent., Author of c: The
Sketch Book," &c.................................... 637
A Portraiture of Quakerism, as taken from a View of the Moral Education, Discipline,
Peculiar Customs, Religious Principles, Political and Civil Economy, and Character
of the Society of Friends. By THOMAS CLARKSON) M. A., Author of several Essays
on the Subject of the Slave Trade.................................. 643
Memoirs of the Private and Public Life of William Penn. By THOMAS CLARKSON, M. A. 651
A Selection from the Public and Private Correspondence of Vice-Admiral Lord Collingwood: interspersed with Memoirs of his Life. By G. L. NEWNHAM COLLINGWOOD,
Esq., F. R. S.......................................................... 659
Narrative of a Journey through the Upper Provinces of India from Calcutta to Bombay,
1824, 1825 (with Notes upon Ceylon); an Account of a Journey to Madras and the
Southern Provinces, 1826; and Letters written in India. By the late Right Reverend REGINALD HEBER, Lord Bishop of Calcutta...............................  666
Sketches of India. Written by an Officer, for Fire-Side Travellers at Home.......... 674
Scenes and Impressions in Egypt and in Italy. By the Author of "Sketches of India,"
and "Recollections of the Peninsula"....................................... ib.
Letters from a late eminent Prelate to one of his Friends....                 683
Memoirs of the Political and Private Life of James Caulfield, Earl of Charlemont, Knight
of St. Patrick &c. &c. By FRANCIS HARDY, Esq., Member of the House of Commons in the three last Parliaments of Ireland...............................  693
An Inquiry whether Crime and Misery are produced or prevented by our present System of Prison discipline. Illustrated by Descriptions of the Borough Compter, Tothill Fields Prison, the Jail at St. Albans, the Jail at Guilford, the Jail at Bristol, the
Jails at Bury and Ilchester, the Maison de Force at Ghent, the Philadelphia Prison,
the Penitentiary at Millbank, and the Proceedings of the Ladies' Committee at
Newgate. By THOMAS FOWELL BUXTON.................................... 700
Memoirs of Richard Cumberland: written by Himself. Containing an Account of his
Life and Writings, interspersed with Anecdotes and Characters of the most distinguished Persons of his Time with whom he had Intercourse or Connection........ 707
The Works of the Right Honourable Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Including her Correspondence, Poems, and Essays......................................... 711
The Life of the Right Honourable John Philpot Curran, late Master of the Rolls in Ireland. By his Son, WILLIAM HENRY CURRAN, Barrister-at-Law.................. 717
Switzerland, or a Journal of a Tour and Residence in that Country in the Years 1817,
1818, 1819. Followed by an Historical Sketch of the Manners and Customs of Ancient and Modern Helvetia, in which the Events of our own Time are fully Detailed; together with the Causes to which they may be referred. By L. SIMOND,
Author of "Journal of a Tour and Residence in Great Britain during the Years 1810
and 1811".725
Rejected Addresses; or the New Theatrum Poetarum...................           732
(Euvres Inedites de Madame la Baronne de Stail, publikes par son Fils; precedees d'une
Notice sur le Caractdre et les Ecrits de M. de Stael. Par Madame NECKE'R SAUSSURE,............................. 737
Memoirs of the Life of the Right Honourable Sir James Mackintosh. Edited by his Son,
ROBERT JAMES MACKINTOSH, Esq....................................... 742
Notice of the Honourable Henry Erskine...............................       756
Notice and Character of Professor Playfair.......................................  757
Notice and Character of James Watt.........7................................ 760




GENERAL LITERATURE
AND
LITERARY BIOGRAPHY.
(1Jlap,  1811.)
Essays on the Nature and Principles of Taste.-By ARCHIBALD ALISON, L L. B., F. R. B.,
Prebendary of Sarum,* &c. 2 vols. 8vo.
THERE are few parts of our nature which define what green or red is, say that gTeen is
have given more trouble to philosophers, or the colour of grass, and red of roses or of
appeared more simple to the unreflecting  blood, it is plain that we do not in any respect
than the perceptions we have of Beauty, and explain the nature of those colours, but only
the circumstances under which these are pre- give instances of their occurrence; and that
sented to us. If we ask one of the latter (and one who had never seen the objects referred
larger) class, what beauty is! we shall most to could learn nothing whatever from these
probably be answered, that it is what makes pretended definitions. Complex ideas, on the
things pleasant to look at; and if we remind other hand, and compound emotions, may alhim that many other things are called and ways be defined, and explained to a certain
perceived to be beautiful, besides objects of extent, by enumerating the parts of which
sight, and ask how, or by what faculty he they are made up, or resolving them into the
supposes that we distinguish such objects, we elements of which they are composed: and
must generally be satisfied with hearing that we may thus acquire, not only a substantial,
it has pleased God to make us capable of such though limited, knowledge of their nature,
a perception., The science of mind may not but a practical power in their regulation or
appear to be much advanced by these re- production.
sponses; and yet, if it could be made out, as   It becomes of importance, therefore, in the
some have alleged, that our perception of very outset of this inquiry, to consider whether
beauty was a simple sensation, like our per- our sense of beauty be really a simple sen-.
ception of colour, and that the faculty of taste sation, like some of those we have enumewas an original and distinct sense, like that rated, or a compound or derivative feeling,
of seeing or hearing; this would be truly the the sources or elements of which may be inonly account that could be given. either of the vestigated and ascertained.  If it be the
sense or of its object;-and all that we could former, we have then only to refer it to the
do, in investigating the nature of the latter, peculiar sense or faculty of which it is the
would be to ascertain and enumerate the cir- object; and to determine, by repeated obsercumstances under which it was found to indi- vation, under what circumstances that sense
cate itself to its appropriate organ. All that is called into action: but if it be the latter,
we can say of colour, if we consider it very we shall have to proceed, by a joint process
strictly, is, that it is that property in objects of observation and reflection, to ascertain what
by which they make themselves known to are the primary feelings to which it may be
the faculty of sight; and the faculty of sight referred; and by what peculiar modification
can scarcely be defined in any other way than of them it is produced and distinguished. We
as that by which we are enabled to discover are not quite prepared, as yet, to exhaust the
the existence of colour. When we attempt whole of this important discussion, to which
to proceed farther, and, on being asked to we shall be obliged to return in the sequel of
our inquiry; but it is necessary, in order to
* The greater part of this paper was first printed explain and to set forth, in their natural order,
in the Edinburgh Review for May 1811; but was the difficulties with which the subject is surafterwards considerably enlarged, and inserted as a rounded, to state here in a very few words,
separate article (under the word BEAUTY) in the one or two of the most obvious, and, as we
supplement to the Encyclopedia Brittannica, pub- think, decisive objections against the notion
lished in 1824, and subsequently incorporated into
the new edition of that great work in 1841, from  o beauty beng a simple sensation, or the
which it is now reprinted in its complete form, by object of a separate and peculiar faculty.
ihe liberal allowance of the proprietors.  The first, and perhaps the most consider'




14                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
able, is the want of agreement as to the time possess so much unity as to pass univerpresence and existence of beauty in particular sally by the same name, and be recogniseu
objects, among men whose organization is as the peculiar object of a separate sense or
perfect, and who are plainly possessed of the faculty. All simple qualities that are perceived
faculty, whatever it may be, by which beauty in any one object, are immediately recognised
is discerned. Now, no such thing happens, to be the same, when they are again perceived
we imagine, or can be conceived to happen, in another; and the objects in which they are
in the case of any other simple sensation, or thus perceived are at once felt so far to rethe exercise of any other distinct faculty. semble each other, and to partake of the same
Where one man sees light, all men who have nature. Thus snow is seen to be white, and
eyes see light also. All men allow grass to chalk is seen to be white; but this is no
be green, and sugar to be sweet, and ice to be sooner seen, than the two substances, howcold; and the unavoidable inference from any ever unlike in other respects, are felt at once
apparent disagreement in such matters neces- to have this quality in common, and to resarily is, that the party is insane, or entirely semble each other completely in all that redestitute of the sense or organ concerned in lates to the quality of colour, and the sense
the perception. With regard to beauty, how- of seeing. But is this felt, or could it even be
ever, it is obvious, at first sight, that the case intelligibly asserted, with regard to the quality
is entirely different. One man sees it per- of beauty? Take even a limited and specific sort
petually, where to another it is quite invisible, of beauty-for instance, the beauty of form.
or even where its reverse seems to be con- The form of a fine tree is beautiful, and the
spicuous. Nor is this owing to the insensi- form of a fine woman, and the form of a column,
bility of either of the parties; for the same and a vase, and a chandelier. Yet how can it
contrariety exists where both are keenly alive be said that the form of a woman has any
to the influences of the beauty they respect- thing in common with that of a tree or a temively discern. A Chinese or African lover ple? or to which of the senses by which forms
would probably see nothing at all attractive are distinguished can it be supposed to appear
in a belle of London or Paris; and, undoubt- that they have any resemblance or affinity?
edly, an elegansformarum spectator from either   The matter. however, becomes still more
of those cities would discover nothing but de- inextricable when we recollect that beauty
formity in the Venus of the Hottentots. A  does not belong merely to forms or colours,
little distance in time often produces the but to sounds, and perhaps to the objects of
same effects as distance in place;-the gar- other senses; nay, that in all languages and
dens, the furniture, the dress, which appeared in all nations, it is not supposed to reside exbeautiful in the. eyes of our grandfathers, are clusively in material objects, but to belong
odious and ridiculous in ours. Nay, the dif- also to sentiments and ideas, and intellectual
ference of rank, education, or employments, and moral existences.  Not only is a tree
gives rise to the same diversity of sensation. beautiful, as well as a palace or a waterfall;
The little shop-keeper sees a beauty in his but a poem is beautiful, and a theorem in
roadside box, and in the staring tile roof, mathematics, and a contrivance in mechanics.
wooden lions, and clipped boxwood, which But if things intellectual and totally segrestrike horror into the soul of the student of gated from matter may thus possess beauty,
the picturesque; while he is transported in how can it possibly be a quality of material
surveying the fragments of ancient sculpture, objects  or what sense or faculty can that be,
which are nothing but ugly masses of mould- whose proper office it is to intimate to us the
ering stone, in the judgment of the admirer existence of some property which is common
of neatness. It is needless, however, to mul- to a flower and a demonstration, a valley and
tiply instances, since the fact admits of no an eloquent discourse?
contradiction. But how can we believe that   The only answer which occurs to this is
beauty is the object of a peculiar sense or plainly enough a bad one; but the statement
faculty, when persons undoubtedly possessed of it, and of its insufficiency, will serve better,
of the faculty, and even in an eminent degree, perhaps, than any thing else, to develope the
can discover nothing of it in objects where it actual difficulties of the subject, and the true
is distinctly felt and perceived by others with state of the question with regard to them. It
the same use of the faculty?              may be said, then. in answer to the questions
This one consideration, we confess, a;ppears we have suggested above, that all these obto us conclusive against the supposition of jects, however various and dissimilar, agree
dbea-t  beifngi  a retotri- o.'bje:ct  s ad'- at least in being agreeable, and that this
dresslng itselfto tie power of taste as a sepa- agreeableness, which is the only quality they
rate-'n  ttr faculty; and it seems to point possess in common, may probably be the;:4rresistibly to the conclusion, that our sense beauty which is ascribed to them all. Now,
~of it is the result of other more elementary to those who are accustomed to such discusfeelings, into which it may be analysed or sions, it would be quite enough to reply, that
resolved. A second objection, however, if though the agreeableness of such objects depossible of still greater force, is suggested, by pend plainly enough upon their beauty, it by
considering the prodigious and almost infinite no means follows, but quite the contrary, that
variety of               thisj. -o       their beauty depends upon their agreeablebeauty is ascribed  and the impossibility of ness; the latterbeing the more comprehensive. imnag/nig any one inherent quality which or generic term, under which beauty must
can.belong to them all, and yet at the same rank as one of the species. Its nature, there,




ALISON ON TASTE.                                  1.~
fore. is n) more explained, nor is less ab- give; and find ourselves just where we were
surdity substantially committed, by saying at the beginning of the discussion, and eamthat things are beautiful because they are barrassed with all the difficulties arising from
agreeable, than if we were to give the same the prodigious diversity of objects which seem
explanation of the sweetness of sugar; for no to possess these qualities.
one, we suppose, will dispute, that though it   We know pretty well what is the faculty
be very true that sugar is agreeable because of seeing or hearing; or, at least, we know
it is sweet, it would be manifestly prepos- that what is agreeable to one of those faculterous to say that it was sweet because it was ties, has no effect whatever on the other. We
agreeable. For the benefit, however. of those know that bright colours afford no delight to
who wish or require to be more regularly the ear, nor sweet tones to the eye; and are
initiated in these mysteries, we beg leave to therefore perfectly assured that the qualities
add a few observations.                   which make the visible objects agreeable,
In the first place, then, it seems evident, cannot be the same with those which give
thatageeableness, in general, cannot be the pleasure to the ear. But it is by the eye and
same witlty-because there are very by the ear that all material beauty is permany things in the highest degree agreeable, ceived; and yet the beauty which discloses
that can in no sense be called beautiful. itself to these two separate senses, and conse.
Moderate heat, and savoury food, and rest, quently must depend upon qualities which
and exercise, are agreeable to the body; but have no sort of affinity, is supposed to be one
Xone of these can be called beautiful; and distinct quality, and to be perceived by a peamong objects of a higher class, the love and culiar sense or faculty! The perplexity beesteem of others, and fame, and a good con- comes still greater when we think of the
acience, and health, and riches, and wisdom, beauty of poems or theorems, and endeavour
are all eminently agreeable; but none at all to imagine what qualities they can possess ir
beautiful, according to any intelligible use of common with the agreeable modifications of
the word. It is plainly quite absurd, therefore, light or of sound.
to say that beauty consists in agreeableness,  It is in these considerations undoubtedly
without specifying in consequence of what it that the difficulty of the subject consists. The
is agreeable-or to hold that any thing what- faculty of taste, plainly, is not a faculty like
ever is taught as to its nature, by merely any of the external senses, the range of whose
classing it among our pleasurable emotions.  objects is limited and precise, as well as the
In the second place, however, we may re- qualities by which they are gratified or ofmark, that among all the objects that are fended; and beauty, accordingly, is discovered
agreeable, whether they are also beautiful or in an infinite variety of objects, among which
not, scarcely any two are agreeable on account it seems, at first sight, impossible to discover
of the same qualities, or even suggest their any other bond of connexion. Yet boundless
agreeableness to the same faculty or organ. as their diversity may appear, it is plain that
Most certainly there is no resemblance or they must resemble each other in something 1
affinity whatever between the qualities which and in something more definite and definable 
make a peach agreeable to the palate, and a than merely in being agreeable; since they
beautiful statue to the eye; which soothe us are all classed together, in every tongue and
in an easy chair by the fire, or delight us in a nation, under the common appellation of beauphilosophical discovery. The truth is, that tiful, and are felt indeed to produce emotions
agreeableness is not properly a quality of any in the mind that have some sort of kindred or
object whatsoever, but the effect or result of affinity. The words beauty and beautiful, in
certain qualities, the nature of which, in every short, do and must mean something; and are
particular instance, we can generally define universally felt to mean something much
pretty exactly, or of which we know at least more definite than agreeableness or gratificawith certainty that they manifest themselves tion in general: and while it is confessedly
respectively to some one particular sense or by no means easy to describe or define what
faculty, and to no other; and consequently it that something is, the force and clearness of
would be just as obviously ridiculous to sup- our perception of it is demonstrated by the
pose a faculty or organ, whose office it was to readiness with which we determine, in any
perceive agreeableness in general, as to sup- particular instance, whether the object of a
pose that agreeableness was a distinct quality given pleasurable emotion is or is not propthat could thus be perceived.             erly described as beauty.
The class of agreeable objects? thanks to   What we have already said, we confess
the bounty of Providence. is exceedingly large. appears to us conclusive against the idea of
Certain things are agreeable to the palate, and this beauty being any fixed or inherent propothers to the smell and to the touch. Some erty of the objects to which it is ascribed, or
again are agreeable to our faculty of imagina- itself the object of any separate and indetion, or to our understanding, or to our moral pendent faculty; and we will no longer confeelings; and none of all these we call beau- ceal from the reader what we take to be the
tiful. But there are others which we do call true solution of the difficulty. In our opinion,
beautiful; and those we say are agreeable to then, our sense of beauty depends entirely on
our faculty of taste; —but when we come to our previous experience of simpler pleasures
ask what is the faculty of taste, and what are or emotions, and consists in the sug fesof
the qualities which recommend the subjects agreeable or interesting sensationris-thuwi7h
to that faculty  -. —we have no such answer tc we had formerly been made familiar by the




16                       LITERATURE AND' BIOGRAPHY.
direct and intelligible agency of our common I to imagine, that recollections thus strikingly
sensibilities; and that vast variety of objects, suggested by some real and present existence,
to which we give the common name of beau- should present themselves under a different
tiful, become entitled to that appellation  aspect, and move the mind somewhat differmerely because they all possess the power of ently from those which arliwsspoato usl2 in
recalling or reflecting those sensations of the ordinary course of our reflections, ando
which they have been the accompaniments, not thus grow out of a direct, present, and
or with which they have been associated in peculiar impression.
our imagination by any other more casual   The whole of this doctrine, however, we
bond of connection. According to this view  shall endeavour by and bye to establish upon
of the matter, therefore, beauty is not an in- more direct evidence. But having now exherent property or quality of objects at all, plained, in a general way, both the difficulties
but the result of the accidental relations in of the subject, and our suggestion as to their
which they may stand to our experience of true solution, it is proper that we should take a
pleasures or emotions; and does not depend short review of the more considerable theories
upon any particular configuration of parts, that have been proposed for the elucidation
proportions, or colours, in external things, nor of this curious question; which is one of the
upon the unity, coherence, or simplicity of most delicate as well as the most popular in
intellectual creations-but merely upon the the science of metaphysics-was one of the
associations which, in the case of every indi- earliest which exercised the speculative ingevidual, may enable these inherent, and other- nuity of philosophers-and has at last, we
wise indifferent qualities, to suggest or recall think, been more successfully treated than
to the mind emotions of a pleasurable or in-  ny other of a similar description.
teresting description. It follows, therefore   In most of these speculations we shall find
that no object is beatifi   tse  or could rather imperfect truth than fundamental error;
appear so antecedent to our experience of di- or at all events, such errors only as arise naturect pleasures or emotions; and that, as an rally from that peculiar difficulty which we
infinite variety of objects may thus reflect in- have already endeavoured to explain, as conteresting ideas, so all of them may acquire sisting in the prodigious multitude and dithe title of beautiful, although utterly diverse versity of the objects in which the common
and disparate in their nature, and possessing quality of beauty was to be accounted for.
nothing in common but this accidental power Those who have not been sufficiently aware
of reminding us of other emotions.        of the difficulty have generally dogmatised
This theory, which, we believe, is now very from a small number of instances, and have
generally adopted, though under many need- rather given examples of the occurrence of,
less qualifications. shall be farther developed beauty in some few classes of objects, than
and illustrated in the sequel. But at present afforded any light as to that upon which it
we shall only remark, that it serves, at least, essentially depended in all; while those who
to solve the great problem involved in the felt its full force have very often found no
discussion, by rendering it easily conceivable other resource, than to represent beauty as
how objects which have no inherent resem- consisting in properties so extremely vague
blance, nor, indeed, any one quality in cornm- and general, (suchfor example, as the power
mon, should yet be united in one common of exciting ideas of relation,) as almost to
relation, and consequently acquire one com- elude our comprehension, and, at the same
mon name; just as all the things that belonged time, of so abstract and metaphysical a deto a beloved individual may serve to remind scription, as not to be very intelligibly stated
us of him, and thus to awake a kindred class as the elements of a strong, familiar, and
of emotions, though just as unlike each other pleasurable emotion.
as any of the objects that are classed under   This last observation leads us to make one
the general name of beautiful. His poetry, other remark upon the general character of
for instance, or his slippers-his acts of bounty these theories; and this is, that some of them,
or his saddle-horse —may lead to the same though not openly professing that doctrine,
chain of interesting remembrances, and thus seem necessarily to imply the existence of a
agree in possessing a power of excitement, p04,x.        for the perception
for the sources of which we should look in of beauty; as they resolve it into properties
vain through all the variety of their physical that are not in any way interesting or agree.
or metaphysical qualities.                able to any of our known faculties. Such
By the help of the same consideration, we are all those which make it consist in proporget rid of all the mystery of a peculiar sense tion-or in variety, combined with regular.
or facr;lty, imagined for the express purpose ity-or in waving lines-or in unity-or in
of perceiving beauty; and discover that the the perception of relations-without explainpower of taste is nothing more than the habit ing, or attempting to explain, how any of these
of tracing those associations, by which almost things should, in any circumstances. affect us
all objects maybe connected with interesting with delight or emotion. Others. again, do
emotions. It is easy to understand, that the not require the supposition of any such separecollection of any scene of delight or emotion rate faculty; because in them the sense of
must produce a certain agreeable sensation, beauty is considered as arising from other
and that the objects which introduce these more simple and familiar emotions,:which
recollections should not appear altogether in- are in. themselves and beyond all dispute
different to us: nor is it, perhaps, very difficult agreeable. Such are those which teach that




ALISON ON TASTE.                                 17
oeauty depends on the perception of utility,  gests that beauty may be the nmere oregatic
or of design, or fitness, or in tracing associa- delight of the eye or the ear; to whichi aftel
tions between its objects and the common stating very slightly the objection, that it
joys or emotions of our nature. Which of would be impossible to account upon this
these two classes of speculation, to one or ground for the beauty of poetry or eloquence
other of which, we believe, all theories of he proceeds to rear up a more refined and
beauty may be reduced, is the most philo-  eiaelorate refutation, upon such grounds as
sophical in itself, we imagine can admit cf these:-If beauty be the proper name of that
no question; and we hope in the sequel to which is naturally agreeable to the sight and
leave it as little doubtful, which is to be con- hearing. it is plain, that the objects to which
sidered as most consistent with the fact. In it is ascribed must possess some common and
the mean time, we must give a short account distinguishable property, besides that of being
of some of the theories themselves.       agreeable, in consequence of which they are
The most ancient of which it seems neces- separated and set apart from objects that are
sary to take any notice, is that which may be agreeable to our other senses and faculties,
traced in the Dialogues of,2lato —though we and, at the same time, classed together under
are very far from pretending that it is possible the common appellation of beautiful. Now,
to give any intelligible or consistent account we are not only quite unable to discover what
of its tenor. It should never be forgotten, this property is, but it is manifest, that objects
however, that it is to this subtle and inge- which make themselves known to the ear,
nious spirit that we owe the suggestion, that can have no property as such, in common
it is w(dA 1P;nLQ hat is beautiful; and that, with objects that make themselves known to
in perceiving beauty, it only contemplates the eye; it being impossible that an object
the shadow of its own affections;-a doctrine which is beautiful by its colour, can be beau.
which, however mystically unfolded in his tiful, from the same quality, with another
writings, or however combined with extrava- which is beautiful by its sound. From all
gant or absurd speculations, unquestionably which it is inferred, that as beauty is admitted
carries in it the the germ of all the truth that to be something real, it cannot be merely what
has since been revealed on the subject. By is agreeable to the organs of sight or hearing.
far the largest dissertation, however, that this   There is no practical wisdom, we admit, in
great philosopher has left upon the nature of those fine-drawn speculations; nor any of that
beauty, is to be found in the dialogue entitled spirit of patient observation by which alone
The Greater Hippias, which is entirely de- any sound view of such objects can ever
voted to that inquiry.  We do not learn a be attained. There are also many marks
great deal of the author's own opinion, in- of that singular incapacity to distinguish
deed, from this performance; for it is one of between' what is absolutely puerile and
the dialogues which have been termed Ana- foolish, and what is plausible, at least, and
treptic. or confuting —in which nothing is ingeniouns which may be reckoned among
concluded' in the affirmative, but a series of the characteristics of "the divine philoso.
sophistical suggestions or hypotheses are suc- pher2'' and in some degree of all the philosocessively exposed. The plan of it is to lead phers of antiquity: but they show clearly
on Hippias, a shallow and confident sophist, enough the subtle and abstract character of
to make a variety of dogmatical assertions as Greek speculation and prove at how early
to the nature of beauty, and then to make a period, and to how great an extent, the
him  retract and abandon them, upon the inherent difficulties of the subject were felt1
statement of some obvious objections. So- and produced their appropriate effects.
crates and he agree at first in the notable   There are some hints on these subjects in
proposition, "that beauty is that by which the works of Xenophon; and some scattered
all beautiful things are beautiful;7 and then, observations in those of Cicero; who was the
atter a great number of suggestions, by far first, we believe, to observe, that the sense
too childish and absurd to be worthy of any of beauty is peculiar to man; but nothing
notice-such as, that the beautiful may per- else, we believe, in classical antiquity, which;
adventure be gold, or a fine woman, or a requires tobe analysed or explained. It aphandsome mare-they at last get to some pears that St. Augustin composed a large.
suppositions, which show that almost all the treatise on beauty; and it is to be lamented,
theories that have since been propounded on that the speculations of that acute and ardent 
this interesting subject had occurred thus genius on such a subject have been lost. Weo
early to the active and original mind of this discover, from incidental notices in other parts
keen and curious inquirer. Thus, Socrates of his writings, that he conceived the beauty
first suggests that beauty may consist in the of all objects' to depend on their unit  or on
fitne      abless of any object to the the perception of that principleo-r esign
place it occupies;  ana afterwards, more gen- which fixed the relations of their various
erally and directly, that it may consist in parts, and presented them to the intellect or
utility-a notion which is ultimately reject- imagination as' one harmonious whole. It
ed, however, upon the subtle consideration would not be fair to deal very strictly with,,
that the useful is that which produces good, a theory with which we are so imperfectly
and that the producer and the product being acquainted: but it may be observed, that.
ne:eessarily different, it would follow, upon I while the author is so far in the right'as tor
that supposition, that beauty could not be make beauty consist in a relation to mind,.
good, nor good beautiful. Finally, h.'sug- and not in any physical quality. he has takein




1()                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
far too narrow and circumscribed a view of ingenious author that these qualities of urn.
the matter, and one which seems almost ex- formity and variety were not of themselves
e.usively applicable to works of human art; agreeable to any of our known senses or faculy being plain enough, we think, that a beau- ties, except when considered as symbols of
tiful landscape, or a beautiful horse, has no utility or design, and therefore could not inmore unity, and no more traces of design, telligibly account for the very lively emotions
than one which is not beautiful.           which we often experience from the percepWe do not pretend to know  what the tion of beauty, where the notion of design or
schoolmen taught upon this subject during the utility is not at all suggested. He was condark ages; but the discussion does not seem  strained, therefore, either to abandon this view
to have been resumed for long after the re- of the nature of beauty altogether, or to imavival of letters. The followers of Leibnitz gine a new sense or faculty, whose only funcwere pleased to maintain that beauty con- tion it should be to receive delight from the
sisted in perfection; but what constituted combinations of uniformity and variety, withperfection (in this respect) they did not at-  ut any consideration of their being significant
tempt to define. M. Crouzas wrote a long of things agreeable to our other faculties; and
essay. to show that beauty depended on these this being accomplished by the mere force
Afilve elements, variety, unity, regularity, order, of the definition, there was no room for farther
and proportion; and the PWre Andre, a still dispute or difficulty in the matter.
longer one to prove, that, admitting these to   Some of Hucheson's followers, such as Gebe the true foundations of beauty, it was still rard and others, who were a little startled at
most important to consider, that the beauty the notion of a separate faculty, and yet
which results from them is either  nialJ  wished to retain the doctrine of beauty deQr natural,or artifiil —and that it may be pending on variety and uniformity, endeagreater or less, according as the character- voured, accordingly, to show that these qualiistics of each of these classes are combined ties were naturally agreeable to the mind, and
or set in opposition.                      were recommended by consideratjins arising
Among ourselves, we are not aware of any from its most familiar properties. | Uniformity
considerable publication on the subject till or simplicity, they observed, renders our conthe appearance of Lord Shafte's Charac- ception of objects easy, and saves the mind
teristicsj in which a sort of rapturous  atonic from all fatigue and distraction in the condocr'i~'e is delivered as to the existence of a sideration of them; whilst variety, if circumprimitive and Supreme Good and Beauty, and scribed and limited byan ultimate uniformity,
of a certain internal sTTense; 7 c;_U'"   wff   both gives it a pleasing exercise and excitement,
beauty and moral merit are distinguished. land keeps its energies in a state of pleasurAddison published several ingenious papers| able activity. Now, this appears to us to be
in The Spectator, on the pleasures of the mere trifling. The varied and lively emotions
imagination, and was the first,' we believe. which we receive from  the perception of
who referred them to the specific sources of beauty, obviously have no sort of resemblance
beauty, sublimity, and novelty. He did not to the pleasure of moderate intellectual exerenter much, however, into the metaphysical tion Jnor can any thing be conceived more
discussion of the nature of beauty itself; and utte~  dissimilar than the gratification we
the first philosophical treatise of note that ap- have in gazing on the form of a lovely woman,
p eared on the subject, may be said to have and the satisfaction we receive from working
been the Inquir of Dr. Hucheson, first pub- an easy problem in arithmetic or geometry.
tlished, wi ]. in 1735.                 If a triangle is more beautiful than a regulaI
In this wor-, he notion of a peculiar in- polygon, as those authors maintain, merely betternal sense. by which  we are made sensible cause its figure is more easily comprehended,
pf the existence of beauty. is very boldly pro- the number four should be more beautiful
Imulgated, and maintained by many ingenious than the number 327, and the form of a gibbet
arguments: Yet nothing, we conceive, can be far more agreeable than that of a branching!more extravagant than such a proposition; oak. The radical error, in short, consists in
Bnd nothing but the radical faults of the other fixing upon properties that are not interesting
parts of his theory could possibly have driven in'themselves, and can never be conceived,
the learned author to its adoption.  Even therefore, to excite any emotion, as the foun-;aafter the existence of the sixth sense was as- tain-spring of all our emotions of beauty: and
aumrled, he felt that it was still necessary that it is an absurdity that must infallibly lead to'he should explain what were the qualities by others-whether these take the shape of a,which it was gratified; and these, he was violent attempt to disguise the truly different
pleased to allege, were nothing but the com- nature of the properties so selected, or of the
lbinations of variety with uniformity; all ob- bolder expedient of creating a peculiar faculty,
Sects, as he has himself expressed it, which whose office it is to find them interesting.
sre equally uniform, being beautiful in pro-   The next remarkable theory was that pro.
portion  to their variety-and all objects posed by Edmund Burke, in his Treatise of
equally various being beautiful in proportion the Sublime and Beautiful. But of this, in
/ to t'hir uniformity. Now, not to insist upon spite of the great name of the author, we can>sS', the obvious and radical objection that this is not persuade ourselves that it is necessary to
N    not true in fact, as to flowers, landscapes, or say much. His explanation is founded upon
indeed of any thing but architecture, if it be a species of materialism-not much to have
true of that-it could not fail to strike the been expected from the general character of




ALISON ON TASTE.                                 1i
hit; genius, or the strain of his other specula- i therefore, to be just as beautiful, if the serise
tions —lor it all resolves into this-that all of beauty consisted in the perception of relaobjects appear beautiful, whici have the tions. In the next place, it seems to be suffi.
power of producing a peculiar relaxation of ciently certain, from the experience and 4om,
our nerves and fibres, and thus inducing a mon feelings of all men, that the perception of
certain degree of bodily languor and sinking. relations among objects is not in itself accomo
Of alle s       i   the suppositio een at any panied by any pleasure whatever; and in par.
time hazarded to explain the phenomena of tictular has no conceivable resemblance to the
beauty, this, we think, is the most unfortu- emotion we receive from the perception of'nately imagined, and the most weakly sup- beauty. When we perceive one ugly old
ported. There is no philosophy in the doctrine woman sitting exactly opposite to two other
-and the fundamental assumption is in-every ugly old women, and observe, at the same
way contradicted by the most familiar expe- moment, that the first is as big as the other two
rience. There is no relaxation of the fibres taken together, we humbly conceive, that this
in the perception of beauty-and there is no clear perception of the relations in which these
pleasure in the relaxation of the fibres. If three Graces stand to each other, cannot well
there were, It would follow, that a warm bath be mistaken for a sense of beauty, and that it
would be by far the most beautiful thing in does not in the least abate or interfere with our
the world-and that the brilliant lights, and sense of their ugliness. Finally. we may ob#
bracing airs of a fine autumn morning, would serve, that the sense of beauty results instantas
be the very reverse of beautiful. Accordingly, neously from the perception of the object;
thou'h the treatise alluded to will always be whereas the discovery of its relations to other
valuable on account of the many fine and just objects must necessarilybe a work of time and
remarks it contains, we are not aware that reflection, in the course of which the beauty of
there is any accurate inquirer into the subject the object, so far from being created or brought
(with the exception, perhaps, of Mr. Price, in into notice, must, in fact, be lost sight of and
whose hands, however, the doctrine assumes forgotten.
a new character) by whom the fundamental   Anothermore plausible and ingenious theory
principle of the theory has not been expli- was suggested by the Pere Buffier, and aftercitly abandoned.                          wards adopted and illustrated with great talent
A yet more extravagant doctrine was soon in the Discourses of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Acafterwards inculcated; and in a tone of great cording to this doctrine, beauty consists, as
authority, in a long article from the brilliant Aristotle held virtue to do, in miocritv  or
pen of Diderot, in the French Encyclopedie; conformity to that which is mostTusua. Thus
and one which exemplifies, in a very striking a beautiful nose, to make use of Dr. Smith's
manner, the nature of the difficulties with very apt, though homely, illustration of this
which the discussion is embarrassed. This doctrine, is one that is neither very long nor
ingenious person, perceiving at once; that the very short-very straight nor very much
beauty which we ascribe to a particular class bent-but of an ordinary form and proportion,
of objects, could not be referred to any pecu- compared with all the extremes. It is the
liar and inherent quality in the objects them- form, in short, which nature seems to have
selves, but depended upon their power of aimed at in all cases, though she has more
exciting certain sentiments in our minds; and frequently deviated from it than hit it; but
being, at the same time, at a loss to discover deviating from it in all directions, all her dewhat common power could belong to so vast viations come nearer to it than they ever do
a variety of objects as pass under the general to each other. Thus the most beautiful in
appellation of beautiful, or by what tie all the every species of creatures bears the greatest
various emotions which are excited by the resemblance to the whole species, while monperception of beauty could be united, was at sters are so denominated because they beat
last driven, by the necessity of keeping his the least; and thus the beautiful, though in
definition sufficiently wide and comprehen- one sense the rarest, as the eXact medium is
sive, to hazard the strange assertion, that all but seldom hit. is invariably  co
objects were beautiful which excite in us the because it is the central'point from which all
idea of relation; that our sense of beauty con- the deviations are the least remote. This
sisted in tracing out the relations which the view of the matter is adopted by Sir Joshua in
object possessing it might have to other ob- its full extent, and is even carried so far by
jects; and that its actual beauty was in pro- this great artist, that he does not scruple tc
portion to the number and clearness of the conclude, " That if we were more used to derelations thus suggested and perceived. It is formity than beauty, deformity would then
scarcely necessary, we presume, to expose by lose the idea that is now annexed to it, and
any arguments the manifest fallacy, or rather take that of beauty; —just as we approve and
the palpable absurdity, of such a theory as admire fashions in dress, for no other reason
this. In the first place, we conceive it to be than that we are used to them."
obvious, that all objects whatever have an   Now, not to dwell upon the very startling,infinite, and consequently, an equal number conclusion to which these principles must
of relations, and are equally likely to suggest lead, viz. that things are beautiful in proporthem to those to whom they are presented;-  tion as they are ordinary, and that it is
or, at all events, it is certain, that ugly and merely their familiarity which constitutes
disagreeable objects have just as many rela- their beauty, we would observe, in the first
tions as those that are agreeable, and ought, place, that the whole theory seems to have




o-                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
been suggested by a consideration of animal  quence of the fallacy which lurks i;. the vague
folms) or perhaps of the human figure exclu- and general proposition of those things being
sively. In these forms, it is quite true that beautiful which are neither too big nor too lit
great and monstrous deviations from the usual tle, too massive nor too slender, &c. from
proportions are extremely disagreeable. But I which it was concluded, that beauty must conthis, we have no doubt, arises entirely from  sist inl mediocrity: —not considering that the
some idea of pain or disaster attached to their particle too merely denotes those degrees
existence; or from their obvious unfitness for which are exclusive of beauty, without in any
the filnctions they have to perform. In vege- way fixing what those degrees are. For the
table forms, accordingly, these irregularities plain meaning of these phrases is, that the reexcite no such disgust; it being, in fact. jected objects are too massive or too slender
the great object of culture, in almost all the to be beautiful; and, therefore, to say that an
more beautiful kinds, to produce what may object is beautiful which is neither too big nor
be called ionstroitiJs. And, in mineral sub- too little, &c. is really saying nothing more
stances wlerre the idea of suffering is still than that beautiful objects are such as are not
more completely excluded, it is notorious that, in any degree ugly or disagreeable. The ilso far from the more ordinary configurations lustration as to the effects of use or custom in
being thought the most beautiful, this epithet the article of dress is singularly inaccurate
is scarcely ever employed but to denote some and delusive; the fact being, that we never
rare and unusual combination ofveiss, colours, admire the dress which we are most accusor dimensions. As to landscapes, again, and tomed to see -which is that of the common
almost all the works of art, without exception, people-but the dress of the few who are disthe theory is plainly altogether incapable of tinguished by rank or opulence; and that we
application. In what sense, for example, can require no more custom or habit to make us
it be said that the beauty of natural scenery admire this dress, whatever it may be, than is
consists in mediocrity; or that those landscapes necessary to associate it in our thoughts with
are the most beautiful that are the most com- the wealth, and dignity, and graceful manners
mon? or what meaning can we attach to the of those who wear it.
proposition, that the most beautiful building    We need say nothing in this place of the
or picture, or poem, is that which bears the opinions expressed on the subject of beauty by
nearest resemblance to all the individuals of Dr. Gerard, Dr. Blair, and a whole herd of rheits class, and is, upon the whole, the most toricians; because none of them pretend to
ordinary and common.           have any new or original notions with regard
To a doctrine which is liable to these obvi- to it, and, in general, have been at no pains to
ous and radical objections, it is not perhaps reconcile or render consistent the various acnecessary to make any other; but we must counts of the matter, which they have con.
remark farther, first, that it necessarily sup- tented themselves with assembling and laying
poses that our sense of beauty is, in all cases, before their readers all together, as affording
preceded by such a large comparison between among them the best explanation that could
various individuals of the same species, as be offered of the question. Thus they do not
may enable us to ascertain that average or scruple to say, that the sense of beauty is
mean form in which beauty is supposed to sometimes produced by the mere organic afconsist; and, consequently, that we could fection of the senses of sight or hearing; at
never discover any object to be beautiful an- other times, by a perception of a kind of retecedent to such a comparison; and, secondly, gular variety: and in other instances by the
that. even if we were to allow that this theory association of interesting conceptions; —thus
afforded some explanation of the superior abandoning altogether any attempt to answer
beauty of any one object, compared with the radical question-how  the feeling  of
others of the same class, it plainly furnishes beauty should be excited by such opposite
no explanation whatever of the superior causes —and confoundingtogether, without any
beauty of one class of objects compared with attempt at discrimination, those theories whlch
another. We may believe, if we please, that imply the existence of a separate sense-or
one peacock is handsomer than another, be- faculty, and those which resolve our sense
cause it approaches more nearly to the ave- of beauty into other more simple or familiar
rage or mean form of peacocks in general; emotions.
but this reason will avail us nothing whatever   Of late years, however, we have had three
in explaining why any peacock is handsomer publications on the subject of a far higher
than any pelican or penguin. We may say, character-we mean, Mr. Alison's Essays on
without manifest absurdity, that the most the Nature and Principles of Taste-Mr. Payne
beautiful pig is that which has least of the Knight's Analytical Inquiry into the same subextreme qualities that sometimes occur in the jects-and Mr. Dugal Stewart's Dissertations,
tribe; but it would be palpably absurd to give on the Beautiful and on Taste, in his volume
-this reason, or any thing like it, for the superior of Philosophical Essays. All these works posbeauty of the tribe of antelopes or spaniels.  sess an infinite deal of merit, and have among
The notion, in short, seems to have been them disclosed almost all the truth that is to be:
IWstily adopted by the ingenious persons who known on the subject; though, as it seems to'
have maintained it, partly upon the narrow  us, with some little admixture of error, frond
ground of the disgust produced by monsters which it will not, however, be difficult to sepal
in the animal creation, which has been already rate it.
su:ffiently explained —and partly in conse-   Mr. Alison maintains, that all beauty, or at




ALISON ON TASTE.                                   z~
least that,ll the beauty of material objects, the beauty of the object which first saggest.
depends on the associations that may have ed them depended on its having produced a
connected them with the ordinary affections series of ideas of emotion, oreven of agreea.
or emotions of our nature; and in this, which ble emotions, there seems)o be no good rea.
is the fundamental point of his theory, we son for doubting, that ugoly objects may thus
conceive him to be no less clearly right, than be as beautiful as any   her, and that beauty
he is convincing and judicious in the copious and ugliness may be/dne and the same thing.
and beautiful illustrations by which he has Such is the danger,'as it appears to us, of de.
sought to establish its truth. When he pro- serting the object, itself, or going beyond its
ceeds, however, to assert, that our sense of immediate effect and impression, in order to
rbeauty consists not merely in the suggestion discover the sources of its beauty. Our view
If ideas of emotion, but in the contemplation of the matter is safer, we think, and far more
Df a connected series or train of such ideas. and simple. We conceive the object to be assoindicates a state of mind in which the facul- ciated either in our past experience, or by'ties, half active and half passive, are given up some universal analogy, with pleasures, or. to a sort of reverie or musing, in which they emotions that upon the whole are pleasant;
may wander, though among kindred  impres- and that these associated pleasures are instansions, far enough from the immediate object taneously suggested, as soon as the object is
of perception; we will confess that he not only presented, and by the first glimpse of its physeemns to us to advance a very questionable sical properties, with which. indeed, they are
proposition, but very essentially to endanger consubstantiated and confounded in our senthe evidence, as well as the consistency, of sations.
his general doctrine. We are far fro  deny-   The work of Mr. Knight is more lively, vaing, that, in minds of sensibility and4o reflect- rious, and discursive, than Mr. Alison's-but
igc habits, the contemplation of beauiul ob- not so systematic or conclusive. It is the
jects will be apt, especially in    i  of cleverer book of the two-but not the most
leisure, and when the mind is vacant to give philosophical discussion of the subject. He
rise to such trains of thought, and to such pro- agrees with Mr. Alison in holding the most
tracted meditations; but we cannot possibly important and, indeed, the only considerable
~dmit that their existence is necessary to the part of beauty. to depend upon association;
perception of beauty, or that it is in this state and has illustrated this opinion with a great
of mind exclusively that the sense of beauty variety of just and original observations. But
exists. The perception of beauty, on the con- he maintains, and maintains stoutly, that there
trary, we hold to be, in most cases, quite in- is a beauty independent of association-prior
stantaneous, and altogether as immediate a  to it, and more original and fundamental-the
tpereption of the external qualities of the primitive and natural beauty of colours and
object to which it isascribed. Indeed, it seems sounds. Now,  this we look upon to be a'
only necessary to recollect, that it is to a pre- heresy; and a heresy inconsistent with the
sent material object that we actually ascribe very first principles of Catholic philosophy.
and refer this beauty, and that the only thing We shall not stop at present to give our reato be explained is, how this object comes to sons for this opinion, which we shall illustrate
appear beautiful. In the long train of inter- at large before we bring this article to a close;
esting meditations, however, to which Mr. -but we beg leave merely to suggest at preAlison refers-in the delightful reveries in sent, that if our sense of beauty be confess
which he would make  th"n Tet  eauty  edly, in most cases, the mere image or reflec
consist-it is obvious that we must soon lose tion of pleasures or emotions that have been
sight of the external object which gave the associated with objects in themselves indifferfirst impulse to our thoughts; and though we ent, it cannot fail to appear strange that it
may afterwards reflect upon it, with increased should also on some few occasions be a mere
interest and gratitude, as the parent of so organic or sensual gratification of these parmany charming images, it is impossible, we ticular organs.  Language, it is believed,
conceive, that the perception of its beautycan affords no other example of so whimsical a
ever depend upon a long series of various and combination of different objects under one apshifting emotions.                         pellation: or of the confounding of a direct
It likewise occurs to us to observe, that if physical sensation with the suggestion of a
every thing was beautiful, which was the oc- social or sympathetic moral feeling.  We
casion of a train of ideas of emotion, it is not would observe also, that while Mr. Knight
easy to see why objects that are called ugly stickles so violently for this alloy of the senses
should not be entitled to that appellation. If in the constitution of beauty, he admits, unthey are sufficiently ugly not to be viewed equivocally, that sublimity is, in every inl
with indifference, they too will give rise to stance, and in all cases, the effect of associaideas of emotion, and those ideas are just as tion alone. Yet sublimity and beauty, in any
likely to run into trains and series, as those of just or large sense, and with a view to the
a more agreeable description. Nay, as con- philosophy of either, are manifestly one and
trast itself is one of the principles of associa- the same; nor is it conceivable to us, that, if
tion, it is not at all unlikely, that, in the train sublimity be always the result of an associaof impressive ideas which the sight of ugly tion with ideas of power or danger, beauty
objects may excite, a transition may be ulti- can possibly be, in any case, the result of a
mately made to such as are connected with mere pleasurable impulse on the nerves cf the
pleasure; and, therefore, if the perception of eye or the ear. We shall return, however, to




22                       LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
this discussion hereafter. Of Mr. Knight we i just as much as a fine composition of music.
have only further to observe, that we think These things, however, are never called beauht is not less heretical in maintaining, that tiful, and are felt, indeed, to afford a gratifica
we have no pleasure in sympathising with tion of quite a different nature. It is no doubt
distress or suffering, but only with mental true, as Mr. Stewart has observed, that beauty
energy; and that, in contemplating the sub- is not one thing, but many-and  does not
lime, we are moved only with a sense of produce one uniform emotion, but an infinite
power and grandeur, and never with any feel- variety of emotions. But this, we conceive,
ing of terror or awe.-These errors, however, is not merely because many pleasant things
are less intimately connected with the subject may be intimated to us by the same sense,
of our present discussion.                 but because the things that are called beautiWith Mr. Stewart we have less occasion for ful may be associated with an infinite variety
quarrel: chiefly, perhaps, because he has of agreeable emotions of the specific character
made fewer positive assertions, and entered of which their beauty will consequently parless into the matter of controversy. His Essay take. Nor does it follow, from the fact of this
on the Beautiful is rather philological than great variety, that there can be no other prillmetaphysical. The object of it is to show by ciple of union among these agreeable emowhat gradual and successive extensions of tions, but that of a name, extended to them all
meaning the word, though at first appropri- upon the very slight ground of their coming
ated to denote the pleasing effect of colours through the same organ; since, upon our thealone, might naturally come to signify all the ory, and indeed upon Mr. Stewart's, in a vast
other pleasing things to which it is now ap- majority of instances, there is the remarkable
plied. In this investigation he makes many circumstance of their being all suggested by
admirable remarks, and touches, with the association with some present sensation, and
hand of a master, upon many of the disputa- all modified and confounded, to our feelings,
ble parts of the question; but he evades the by an actual and direct perception.
particular point at issue between us and Mr.   It is unnecessary, however, to pursue these
Knight, by stating, that it is quite immaterial criticisms, or, indeed, this hasty review of the
to his purpose, whether the beauty of colours speculation of other writers, any farther. The
be supposed to depend on their organic effect few observations we have already made, will
on the eye, or on some association between enable the intelligent reader, both to underthem and other agreeable emotions-it being stand in a general way what has been already
enough for his purpose that this was probably done on the subject, and in some degree prethe first sort of beauty that was observed, and pare him  to appreciate the merits of that
that to which the name was at first exclusively theory, substantially the same with Mr. Aliapplied. It is evident to us, however, thathe son's, which we shall now proceed to illusleans to the opinion of Mr. Knight, as to this trate somewhat more in detail.
beauty being truly sensual or organic. In ob-   The basis of it is, that the beauty which,
serving, too, that beauty is not now the name we impute to outward objects, is nothing!
of any one thing or quality, but of very many more than the reflection of our own inward
different qualities-and that it is applied to emotions, and is made up entirely of certain
them all, merely because they are often united little portions of love, pity, or other affections,
in the same objects, or perceived at the same which have been connected with these obtime and by the same organs-it appears to us jects, and still adhere as it were to them, and
that he carries his philology a little too far, move us anew whenever they are presented to
and disregards other principles of reasoning of our observation. Before proceeding to bring
far higher authority. To give the name of any proof of the truth of this proposition,
beauty, for example, to every thing that in- there are two things that it may be proper to
terests or pleases us through the channel of explain a little more distinctly. ItFirst, What
sight, including in this category the mere irn- are the primary affections, by the suggestion
pulse of light that is pleasant to the organ, of which we think the sense of beauty is
and the presentment of objects whose whole produced? And, secondly, What is the nacharm consists in awakening the memory of ture of the connection by which we suppose
social emotions, seems to us to be confound- that the objects we call beautiful are enabled
ing things together that must always be sepa- to suggest these affections 2?.
rate in our feelings, and giving a far greater   With regard to the first of these points, it forimportance to the mere identitv of the organ tunatelyisnotnecessaryeither to enter into any
by which they are perceivedthai is wrrant- tedious details, or to have recourse to any nice
ed either by the ordinary language or ordinary distinctions. All sensations that are not abexperience of men. Upon the same principle solutely indifferent, and are. at the same time,
we should give this name of beautiful, and no either agreeable, when experienced by ourother, to all acts of kindness or magnanimity, selves, or attractive when contemplated in
and, indeed, to every interesting occurrence others, may form the foundation of the eniowhich took place in our sight, or came to our tions of sublimity or beauty. The love of
knowledge by means of the eye:-nay, as the sensation seems to be the ruling appetite of
ear is also allowed to be a channel for impres- human nature; and many sensations, in which
&ions of beauty, the same name should be the painful may be thought to predominate.
given to any interesting or pleasant thing that are consequently sought for with avidity, and
we hear-and good news read to us from the recollected with interest. even in our own
gazette  should be denominated beautifil, persons. In the persons of others; emotions




ALISON ON TASTE.                                  23
still more painful are contemplated with e;-  which are sometimes excited by the spectacle
ge.mess and delight: and therefore we must Iof beauty.
not be surprised to find;, that many of the   Of the feelings, by their connection with
pleasing sensations of beauty or sublimity re- which external objects become beautiful, we
solve themselves ultimately into recollections do not think it necessary to speak more miof feelings that may appear to have a very nutely; —and, therefore, it only remains, under
opposite character. The sum of the whole this preliminary view of the subject, to exis, that every feeling which it is agreeable to plain the nature of that connection by which
experience, to recal; or to witness, may be- we conceive this effect to be produced. Here,
come the source of beauty in external objects, also, there is but little need for minuteness,
when it is so connected with them as that or fulness of enumeration. Almost every tie,
their appearance reminds us of that feeling. by which two objects can be bbund together
Now, in real life, and from daily experience in the imagination, in such a manner as that
and observation, we know that it is agreeable, the presentment of the one shall recal the
in the first place, to recollect our own pleasur- memory of the other — or, in other words,
able sensations, or to be enabled to form a almost every possible relation which can
lively conception of the pleasures of other subsist between such objects, may serve to
men, or even of sentient beings of any de- connect the things we call sublime and beauscription. We know likewise, from the same tiful, with feelings that are interesting or desure authority, that there is a certain delight lightful. It may be useful, however. to class
in the remembrance of our past, or the con- these bonds of association between mind and
ception of our future emotions, even though matter in a rude and general way.
attended with great pain, provided the pain   It appears to us, then, that objects are
be not forced too rudely on the mind, and be sublime or beautiful, first, when they are the
softened by the accompaniment of any milder natural signs, and perpetual concomitants of
feeling. And finally, we know, in the same pleasurable sensations, or, at any rate, of some
manner, that the spectacle or conception of lively feeling or emotion in ourselves or in
the emotions of others, even when in a high some other sentient beings; or, secondly, when
degree painful, is extremely interesting and they are the arbitrary or accidental concomiattractive, and draws us away, not only from  tants of such feelings; or, thirdly, when they
the consideration of indifferent objects, but bear some analogy or fanciful resemblance to
even from the pursuit of light or frivolous things with which these emotions are necesenjoyments. All these are plain and familiar sarily connected.  In endeavouring to illusfacts; of the existence of which, however trate the nature of these several relations, we
they may be explained, no one can entertain shall be led to lay before our readers some
the slightest doubt-and into which, there- proofs that appear to us satisfactory of the
fore, we shall have made no inconsiderable truth of the general theory.
progress, if we can resolve the more myste-   The most obvious, and the strongest assorious fact, of the emotions we receive from  ciation that can be established between inthe contemplation of sublimity or beauty.    ward feelings and external objects is, where
Our proposition then is, that these emotions the object is necessarily and universally conare not original emotions, nor produced di- nected with the feeling by the law of nature,
rectly by any material qualities in the objects so that it is always presented to the senses
which excite them; but are reflections, or when the feeling is impressed upon the mind
images, of the more radical and familiar -as the sight or the sound of laughter, with
emotions to which we have already alluded; the feeling of gaiety —of weeping; with disand are occasioned, not by any inherent virtue tress-of the sound of thunder, with ideas
in the objects before us, but bythe accidents, of danger and power. Let us dwell for a
if we may so express ourselves, by which moment on the last instance. —Nothing, perthese may have been enabled to suggest or haps, in the whole range of nature, is more
recallto us our own past sensations or sympa- strikingly and universally sublime than the
thies. We might almost venture. indeed, to sound we have just mentioned; yet it seems
lay it down as an axiom, that, except in the obvious, that the sense of sublimity is proplain and palpable case of bodily pain or duced, not by any quality that is perceived
pleasure, we can never be interested in any by the ear, but altogether by the impression
~thing but the fortunes of sentient beings; —  of power and of danger that is necessarily
('and that every thing partaking of the nature of made upon the mind, whenever that sound is;
mental emotion, must have for its object the heard. That it is not produced by any pecu\feelings, past, present, or possible, of something liarity in the sound itself, is certain, from the
blof saton.  Indeen denthere  mistakes that are frequently made with re-.
of all evilden. and w    lth  l e  p   any gard to it. The noise of a cart rattling over
Pex      n we should have been apt to con- the stones, is often mistaken for thunder; and:
elude, that the emotions of beauty and sub- as long as the mistake lasts, this very vulgar
limity must have for their objects the suffer- and insignificant noise is actually felt to be
ilngs or enjoyments of sentient beings;-and prodigiously sublime. It is so felt, however,
to reject, as intrinsically absurd and incredi- it is perfectly plain, merely because it is then.ble, the supposition, that material objects, associated with ideas of prodigious power a ll
which obviously do neither hurt nor delight undefined danger;-and the sublimity is oa
the body, should yet excite, by their mere cordingly destroyed, the moment the atso..;,hysical qualities, the very powerful emotions ciation is dissolved, though the sound itself




24                       LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
and its effect on the organ, continue exactly i of a youthful face, to the richly fretted and
the same. This, therefore, is an instance in variegated countenance of a pimpled drunkwhich sublimity is distinctly proved to con- ard!  
sist, rot in any physical quality of the object   Such, we conceive. would be the inevita.
to which it is ascribed, but in its necessary ble effect of dissolving the subsistingconnectconnection with that vast and uncontrolled ion between the animating ideas of hope and
Power which is the natural object of awe and enjoyment, and those* visible appearances
veneration.                               which are now significant of those emotionrl
We may now take an example a little less and derive their whole beauty from  that
plain and elementary. The most beautiful signification. But the effect would be stll]
object in nature, perhaps, is the countenance stronger, if we could suppose the moral exof a young and beautiful woman; —and we pression of those appearances to be reversed
are apt at first to imagine, that, independent in the same manner. If the smile, which
of all associations, the form and colours which now enchants us, as the expression of innoit displays are, in themselves, lovely and en- cence and affection, were the sign attached
gaging; and would appear charming to all by nature to guilt and malignity-if the blush
beholders, with whatever other qualities or which expresses delicacy, and the glance that
impressions they might happen to be con- speaksiintelligence, vivacity, and softness, had
nected. A  very little reflection, however, always been found united with brutal passion
will probal ly be sufficient to convince us of or idiot moodiness; is it not certain, that the
the fallacy of this impression: and to satisfy whole of their beauty would be extinguished,
us, that what we admire is not a combination and that our emotions from the sight of them
of forms and colours, (which could never ex- would be exactly the reverse of' what they
cite any mental emotion,) but a collection of now are?
signs and tokens of certain mental feelings   That the beauty of a living and sentient
and affections, which are universally recog- creature should depend, in a great degrees
nised as the proper objects of love and sym- upon qualities peculiar to such a creature,
pathy. Laying aside the emotions arising rather than upon the mere physical attributes
from difference of sex; and supposing female which it may possess in common with the
beauty to be contemplated by the pure and inert matter around it, cannot indeed appear
unenvying eye of a female, it seems quite a very improbable supposition to any one.
obvious, that, among its ingredients, we should But it may be more difficult for some persons
trace the signs of two different sets of quali- to understand how the beauty of mere dead
ties; that are neither of them the ob' ta  matter should be derived from the feelings
ightbut of a far higher faculty;-iin he first and sympathies of sentient beings. It is ab5pte,~ o}dyouth and health; and in the second solutely necessary, therefore, that we should
place, of innocence, gaiety, sensibility, intel- give an instance or two of this derivation
ligence, delicacy or vivacity. Now, without also.
enlarging upon the natural effect of these   It is easy enough to understand how the
suggestions, we shall just suppose that the sight of a picture or statue should affect us
appearances, which must be admitted at nearly in the same way as the sight of the
all events to be actually significant of the original: nor is it much more difficult to con.
qualities we have enumerated, had been by ceive. how the sight of a cottage should give
the law of nature attached to the very oppo- us something of the same feeling as the sight
site qualities; —that the smooth forehead, the of a peasant's family; and the aspect of a town
firm cheek, and the full lip, which are now  raise many of the same ideas as the appearso distinctly expressive to us of the gay and ance of a multitude of persons. We may
vigorous periods of youth-and the clear and begin; therefore, with an example a little
blooming complexion, which indicates health more complicated. Take, for instance, the
and activity, had been in fact the forms and case of a common English landscape-green
colours.by which old age and sickness were meadows with grazing and ruminating cattle
characterised; and that, insteadof being found -canals or navigable rivers-well fenced,
united to those sources and seasons of enjoy- well cultivated fields-neat, clean, scattered
ment, they had been the badges by which cottages —humble antique churches, with
nature pointed out that state of suffering and church-yard elms, and crossing hedgerows —
decay which is now signified to us by the all seen under bright skies, and in good wea..ivid and emaciated face of sickness, or the ther: —There is much beauty, as every one
xrrinkled front, the quivering lip, and hollow  will acknowledge, in such a scene. But in
cheek of age; —If this were the familiar law  what does the beauty consist? Not-certainly
of our nature, can it be doubted that we should in the mere mixture of colours and forms; for
look upon these appearances, not with rapture, colours more pleasing, and   mi'ins/"iore gracebut with aversion-and consider it as abso-  ful, (according to any theory of grace that
lutely ludicrous or disgusting, to speak of the may be preferred,) might be spread upon a
beauty of what was interpreted by every one board, or a painter's pallet, without engaging
as the lamented sign of pain and decrepitude? the eye to a second glance, or raising the
Mr. Knight himself, though a firm believer in least emotion in the mind; but in the picture
the intrinsic beauty of colours, is so much of of human happiness that is presented to our
this opinion, that he thinks it entirely owing imaginations and affections-in the visible
to those associations that we prefer the tame and unequivocal signs of comfort, and cheer.
smoothness, and comparatively poor colours fnl and peaceful enjoyment-and of that se.




ALISON ON TASTE.                                   25
cure and b accessful industry that ensures its with the monuments of ancient magnifhicence
continuance-and of the piety by which it is and extinguished hostility-the feuds, and
exalted-and of the simplicity by which it is the combats, and the triumphs of its wild and
contrasted with the guilt and the fever of a primitive  inhabitants, contrasted with the
city life; —in the images of health and ternm- stillness and desolation of the scenes where
perance and plenty which it exhibits to every they lie interred; —and the romantic ideas
eye-and in the glimpses which it affords to attached to their ancient traditions, and the
warmer imaginations, of those primitive or peculiarities of the actual life of their desfabulous times, when man was uncorrupted cendants-their wild and enthusiastic poetry
by luxury and ambition, and of those humble -their gloomy superstitions-theii attachretreats in which we still delight to imagine ment to their chiefs-the dangers, and the
that love and philosophy may find an unpol- hardships and enjoyments of their lonely
luted asylum. At all events, however, it is huntings and fishings-their pastoral shielings
human feeling that excites our sympathy, and on the mountains in summer —and the tales
forms the true object of our emotions. It is and the sports that amuse the little groups
man, and man alone; that we see in the beau- that are frozen into their vast and trackless
ties of the earth which he inhabits; —or, if a valleys in the winter. Add to all this, the
more sensitive and extended sympathy con- traces of vast and obscure antiquity that are
Ilect us with the lower families of animated impressed on the language and the habits of
nature, and make us rejoice with the lambs the people, and on the cliffs, and caves. and
that bleat on the uplands, or the cattle that gulfy torrents of the land; and the solemn
repose in the valley, or even with the living arid touching reflection, perpetually recurring,
plants that drink the bright sun and the of the weakness and insignificance of perishbalmy air beside them, it is still the idea of able man, whose generations thus pass away
enjoyment —of feelings that animate the ex- into oblivion, with all their toils and. ambiistence of sentient beings-that calls forth all tion; while nature holds on her unvarying
our emotions, and is the parent of all the course. and pours out her streams, and rebeauty with which we proceed to invest the news her forests, with undecaying activity,
inanimate creation around us.              regardless of the fate of her proud and perish
Instead of this quiet and tame English able sovereign.
landscape, let us now take a Welch or a   We have said enough, we believe, to lei
Highland scene; and see whether its beau- our readers understand what we mean by
ties will admit of being explained on the external objects' being the natural signs or
same principle. Here, we shall have lofty concomitants of human sympathies or emo,
mountains, and rocky and lonely recesses-  tions. Yet we cannot refiain from  addirng
tufted woods hung over precipices-lakes one other illustration. and asking on what
intersected with castled promontories-am- other principle we can account for the beauty
pie solitudes of unploughed and untrodden of Spring? Winter has shades as deep, and
valleys-nameless and gigantic ruins-and colours as brilliant; and the great forms of
mountain echoes repeating the scream of the nature are substantially the same through all
eagle and the roar of the cataract. This, the revolutions of the year. We shall seek
too, is beautiful; —and, to those who can in vain, therefore. in the accidents of mere
interpret the language it speaks, far more organic matter, for the sources of that "verbeautiful than the prosperous scene with nal delight and joy," which subject all finer
which we have contrasted it. Yet, lonely as spirits to an annual intoxication. and strike
it is, it is to the recollection of man and the home the sense of beauty even to hearts that
suggestion of human feelii le  h is':isij   seem proof against it under all other aspects.
also is owiig.  The me re Torms ai d colours And it is not amorig the Dead but among the
that compose its visible appearance, are no Living, that this beauty originates. It is the
more capable of exciting any emotion in the renovation of life an(l of joy to all animated
mind, than the forms and colours of a Turkey beings, that constitutes this great jubilee of
~arpet. It is sympathy with' the present or nature;-the young of animals bursting into
the past, or the imaginary inhabitants of such existence-the simple and universal pleasures
a region, that alone gives it either interest or which are diffused by the mere temperature
beauty; and the delight of those who behold of the air, and the profusion of sustenanceit, will always be found to be in exact pro- the pairing of birds-the cheerful resumption
portion to the force of their imaginations, and of rustic toils-the great alleviation of all the
the warmth of their social affections. The miseries of poverty and sickness-our symleading impressions; here, are those of ro- pathy with the young life, and the promise
mantic seclusion, and primeval simplicity; and the hazards of the vegetable creationlovers sequestered in these blissful solitudes. the solemn, yet cheering, impression of the
"from towns and toils remote " —and rustic constancy of nature to her great periods of
poets anid philosophers communing with na- renovation —and the hopes that dart spontature, antd at a distance from the low pursuits neously forward into the new circle of exerand selfish malignity of ordinary mortals;-  tions and enjoyments that is opened up by her
then there is the sublime impression of the hand and her example. Such are some of
Mighty Power which piled the massive cliffs the conceptions that are forced upon us by
upin each other, and rent the -mountains the appearancesof returning spring; anld that
asuader, and scattered their giant fragments seem  lo account foi the emotions of delight
at their base;-and all the images connected with which these aprearances are hailed, by




26                        LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
every mind endowed with any degree of sen- sympathies or emotions, and external objects,
sibility, somewhat better than the brightness may be either such as occur to whole classes
of the colours, or the agreeableness of the of men, or are confined to particular indismells that are then presented to our senses; viduals.  Among the former, those that ap
They are kindred conceptions that consti- ply to different nations or races of men, are
tute all the beauty of childhood. The forms the most important and remarkable; and con"and colours that are peculiar to that age, are stitute the basis of those peculiarities by
not necessarily or absolutely beautiful in which national tastes are distinguished.themselves; for, in a grown person, the same Take again, for example, the instance of feforms and colours would be either ludicrous male beauty-and think what different and
or disgusting. It is their indestructible con- inconsistent standards would be fixed for it
nection with the engaging ideas of innocence in the different regions of the world; —in
-of careless gaiety —of unsuspecting confi- Africa, in Asia, and in Europe; —in Tartary
dence; —made still more tender and attract- and in Greece; in Lap]and, Patagonia, and
ive by the recollection of helplessness, and Circassia.  If there was any thing absolutely
blameless and happy ignorance-of the anx- or intrinsically beautiful, in any of the forms
ious affection that watches over all their ways thus distinguished, it is inconceivable that
-and of the hopes and fears that seek to men should differ so outrageously in their
pierce fiturity, for those who have neither conceptions of it: if beauty were a real and
fears nor cares nor anxieties for themselves.  independent quality, it seems impossible that
These few illustrations will probably be it should be distinctly and clearly felt by one
sufficient to give our readers a general con- set of persons: where another set. altogether
ception of the character and the grounds of as sensitive, could see nothing but its oppothat theory of beauty which we think affords site; and if it were actually and inseparably
the only true or consistent account of its na- attached to certain forms, colours, or proporture. They are all examples, it will be ob- tions, it must appear utterly inexplicable that
served, of the First and most important con- it should be felt and perceived in the most
nection which we think may be shown to opposite forms and proportion, in objects of
exist between external objects and the senti- the same description.  On the other hand. if
ments or emotions of the mind; or cases, in all beauty consist in reminding us of certain
which the visible phenomena are the natural natural sympathies and objects of emotion,
and universal accompaniments of the emo- with which they have been habitually contion, and are consequently capable of reviving nected, it is easy to perceive how the most
that emotion, in some degree, in the breast different forms should be felt to be equally
of every beholder. If the tenor.of those beautiful. If female beauty, for instance,
illustrations has been such as to make any consist in the visible signs and expressions
impression in favour of the general theory, of youth and health, and of gentleness, viwe conceive that it must be very greatly con- vacity, and kindness; then it will necessarily
firmed by the slightest consideration of the happen, that the forms, and colours and proSecond class of cases, or those in which the portions which nature may have connected
external object is not the natural and neces- with those qualities, in the different climates
sary, but only the occasional or accidental or regions of the world, will all appear equally
concomitant of the emotion which it recals.- beautiful to those who have been accustomed
In the former instances, some conception of to recognise them as the signs of such qualibeauty seems to be inseparable from the ap- ties; while they will be respectively indifpearance of the objects; and being impressed, ferent to those who have not learned to interin some degree, upon all persons to whom  pret them  in this sense, and displeasing to
they are presented, there is evidently room  those whom experience has led to consider
for insinuating that it is an independent and them as the signs of opposite qualities.
intrinsic quality of their nature, and does not   The case is the same, though, perhaps to a
arise from association with any thing else. smaller degree. as to the peculiarity of national
In the instances, however, to which we are taste in other particulars. The style of dress
now to allude, this perception of beauty is and architecture in every nation, if not adopted
not universal, but entirely dependent upon from mere want of skill, or penury of matethe opportunities which each individual has rials, always appears beautiful to the natives,
had to associate ideas of emotion with the and  somewhat monstrous and absurd to
object to which it is ascribed: —the same foreigners; —and the general character and
thing appearing beautiful to those who have aspect of their landscape, in like manner, if
been exposed to the influence of such asso- not associated with substantial evils and incitions, and indifferent to those who have conveniences, always appears more beautiful,ot. S-uch instances, therefore, really afford and enchanting than the scenery of any other
an experimentum crucis as to the truth of the region. The fact is still more striking, perheory in question; nor is it easy to conceive haps, in the case of music; —in the effects of
any more complete evidence, both that there those national airs, with which even the most
is no such thing as absolute or intrinsic beauty. uncultivated imaginations have connected so
and that it depends altogether on those asso- many interesting recollections; and in the (leciations with which it is thus found to come light with which all persons of sensibility
and to disappear.                          catch the strains of their native melodies in
The accidental or arbitrary relations that strange or in distant lands. It is owing chiefly
may thus be established between natural to the same sort of arbitrary and national as,




ALISON ON TASTE.                                  27
wciation, that white is thought a gay colour l history of this great people, open at once bein Europe, where it is used at weddings — fore his imagination, and present him with a
and a dismal colour in China, where it is used field of high and solemn imagery, which can,or mourning;-that we think yew-trees never be exhausted. Take from him these
gloomy, because they are planted in church-  associations-conceal from him that it is
yards-and large masses of powdered horse- Rome that he sees, and how different would
hair majestic, because we see them on the be his emotion!"
heads of judges and bishops.                The influences of the same studies may be
Next to those curious instances of arbitrary traced, indeed, through almost all our impresor limited associations that are exemplified in sions of beauty-and especially in the feelings
the diversities of national taste, are those that which we receive from the contemplation of
are produced by the differences of instruction rural scenery; where the images and recolor education. If external objects were sublime lections which have been associated with such
and beautiful in themselves, it is plain, that objects, in the enchanting strains of the poets,
they would appear equally so to those who are perpetually recalled by their appearance,
were acquainted with their origin, and to those and give an interest and a beauty to the prosto whom it was unknown. Yet it is not easy, peat, of which the uninstructed cannot have
perhaps, to calculate the degree to which our the slightest perception. Upon this subject,
notions of beauty and sublimity are now influ- also, Mr. Alison has expressed himself with
enced, over all Europe, by the study of clas- his usual warmth and elegance. After obsical literature; or the number of impressions serving, that, in childhood, the beauties of
of this sort which the well-educated conse- nature have scarcely any existence for those
quently receive, from objects that are utterly who have as yet but little general sympathy
indifferent to uninstructed persons of the same with mankind, he proceeds to state, that they
natural sensibility. We gladly avail ourselves, are usually first recommended to notice by
upon this subject, of the beautiful expressions the poets, to whom we are introduced in the
of Mr. Alison.                             course of education; and who, in a manner,
"The delight which most men of education create them for us, by the associations which
receive from the consideration of antiquity, they enable us to form with their visible ajland the beauty that they discover in every pearance.
object which is connected with ancient times,   " How different, from this period, become
is, in a great measure, to be ascribed to the the sentiments with which the scenery of
same cause. The antiquarian, in his cabinet, nature is contemplated, by those who have
surrounded by the relics of former ages, seems any imagination! The beautiful forms of anto himself to be removed to periods that are cient mythology, with which the fancy of
long since past, and indulges in the imagina- poets peopled every element, are now ready
tion of living in a world, which, by a very to appear to their minds, upon the prospect
-natural kind of prejudice, we are always wil- of every scene. The descriptions of ancient
ling to believe was both wiser and better than authors, so long admired, and so deserving of
the present. All that is venerable or laudable admiration, occur to them at every momenta
in the history of these times, present them- and with them, all those enthusiastic ideas of
selves to his memory. The gallantry, the ancient genius and glory, which the study of
heroism, the patriotism of antiquity, rise again so many years of youth so naturally leads
before his view, softened by the obscurity in them to form. Or, if the study of modern
which they are involved, and rendered more poetry has succeeded to that of the ancient, a
seducing to the imagination by that obscurity thousand other beautiful associations are acitself, which, while it mingles a sentiment of quired, which. instead of destroying, serve
regret amid his pursuits, serves at the same easily to unite with the former, and to afford
time to stimulate his fancy to fill up, by its a new source of delight. The awful forms
own creation, those long intervals of time of of Gothic superstition, the wild and romantic
which history has preserved no record.    imagery, which the turbulence of the middle
"And what is it that constitutes that emotion ages, the Crusades, and the institution of
of sublime delight, which every man of com- chivalry have spread over every country of
mon sensibility feelsupon the fist prospect of Europe, arise to the imagination in every
Rome? It is not the scene of destruction which scene; accompanied with all those pleasing
is before him. It is not the Tiber, diminished recollections of prowess, and adventure, and
in his imagination to a paltry stream, flowing courteous manners. which distinguished those
amid the ruins of that magnificence which it memorable times. With such images in their
once adorned. It is not the triumph of super- minds, it is not common nature that appears
stition over the wreck of human greatness, to surround them. It is nature embellished
and its monuments erected upon the very and made sacred by the memory of Theocritus
spot where the first honours of humanity have and Virgil, and Milton and Tasso; their gebeen gained. It is ancient Rome which fills nius seems still to linger among the scenes
his imagination. It is the country of Caesar, which inspired it, and to irradiate every object
and Cicero, and Virgil, which is before him. where it dwells; and the creation of their
It is the Mistress of the world which he sees, fancy seem the fit inhabitants of that nature)
and who seems to him to rise again from her which their descriptions have clothed with
tomb, to give laws to the universe. All that beauty."
*he labours of his youth, or the studies of his  It is needless, for the purpose of mere illusmaturer age have acquired, with regard to the tration, to pursue this subject of arbitrary or




28                       LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
accidental association through all the divisions and that the forms, and colours, and materials
of which it is susceptible; and, indeed, the that are, we may say, universally and very
task woula be endless; since there is scarcely I strongly felt to be beautiful while they are
any class in society which may not be shown in fashion, are sure to lose all their beauty as
to have peculiar associations of interest and soon as the fashion has passed away. Now
emotion with objects which are not so con- the forms, and colours, and combinations renected in the minds of any other class. The main exactly as they were; and, therefore
young and the old-the rich and the poor-  it seems indisputable, that the source of their
the artist and the man of science-the in- successive beauty and ugliness must be sought
habitant of the city and the inhabitant of the in something extrinsic and can only be found
country —the man of business and the man in the associatlo —hi iich once exalted, and
of pleasure-the domestic and the dissipated, ultimately degraded them in our estimation.
-nay, even the followers of almost every While they were in fashion, they were the
different study or profession, have perceptions forms and colours which distinguished the
of beauty, because they have associations rich and the noble-the eminent, the envied,
with external objects, which are peculiar to the observed in society. They were the forms
themselves, and have no existence for any and the colours in which all that was beautiother persons. But, though the detail of such ful, and admired, and exalted, were habitually
instances could not fail to show, in the clear- arrayed. They were associated, therefore
est and most convincing manner, how directly with ideas of opulence, and elegance, and
the notion of beauty is derived front some gaiety, and all that is captivating and bewitchmore radical and familiar emotion, and how  ing, in manners, fortune, and situation-and
many and various are the channels by which derived the whole of their beauty from those
such emotions are transmitted, enough, per- associations. By and bye, however, they were
haps, has been already said, to put our readers deserted by the beautiful, the rich, and the
in possession of the principles and general elegant, and descended to the vulgar and debearings of an argument which we must not pendent, or were only seen in combination
think of exhausting.                      with the antiquated airs of faded beauties or.
Before entirely leaving this branch of the obsolete beaux. They thus came to be asso-i
subject, however, let us pause for a moment ciated with ideas of vulgarity and derision,!
on the familiar but very striking and decisive and with the images of old and decayed perinstance of our varying and contradictory sons, whom it is difficult for their juniors to
judgments,; s to the beauty of the successive believe ever to have been young or attractive;
fashions of dress that have existed within our -and the associations being thus reversed, in
own remembrance.  All persons who still which all their beauty consisted, the beauty
continue to find amusement in society, and itself naturally disappeared.
are not old enough to enjoy only the recollec-   The operation of the same causes is distions of their youth, think the prevailing tinctly visible in all the other apparent irregfashions becoming and graceful, and the ularities of our judgments as to this descripfashions of twenty or twenty-five years old tion of beauty.  Old people have in general
intolerably ugly and ridiculous. The younger but little toleration for the obsolete fashions
they are, and the more they mix in society, of their later or middle years; but will geuethis impression is the stronger; and the fact rally stickle for the intrinsic elegance of those
is worth noticing; because there is really no which were prevalent in the bright days of
one thing as to which persons judging merely their early youth-as being still associated
from their feelings, and therefore less likely in their recollections, with the beauty with
to be misled by any systems or theories are which they were first enchanted, and the gay
so very positive and decided, as that estab- spirits with which they were then inspired.
lished fashions are beautiful in themselves; In the same way, while we laugh at the fashand that exploded fashions are intrinsically ions of which fine ladies and gentlemen were
and beyond all question preposterous and proud in the days of our childhood. because
ugly. We have never yet met a young lady i they are now associated only with images of
or gentleman, who spoke from their hearts decrepitude and decay, we look with some
and without reserve, who had the least doubt feelings of veneration on the habits of more
on the subject; or could conceive how any remote generations, the individuals of which
person could be so stupid as not to see the are only known to us as historical persons;
intrinsic elegance of the reigning mode, or and with unmingled respect and admiration
not to.be struck with the ludicrous awkward- on those still more ancient habiliments which
ness of the habits in which their mothers remind us either of the heroism of the feudal
were disguised. Yet there can be no doubt, chivalry, or the virtue and nobleness of clasthat if these ingenuous critics had been born, sical antiquity. The iron mail of the Gothic
with the same natural sensibility to beauty, knight, or the clumsy shield and naked arms
but twenty years earlier, they would have of the Roman warrior, strike us as majestic
joined in admiring what they now laugh at; and graceful, merely because they are asso.
as certainly as those who succeed them twenty ciated with nothing but tales of romantic dar
years hereafter will laugh at them. It is plain  ing or patriotic prowess-while the full-bot.
then, and we think scarcely disputed, out of tomed periwigs that were added to the sol.
the circles to which we have alluded, that dier's equipment in the days of Lewis XIV
there is, in the general case, no intrinsic and King William-and no doubt had a no.
beauty or deformity in any of those fashions; I ble effect in the eyes of that generation



ALISON ON TASTE.                                  29
now appea,  us equally ridiculous and un - consequence of a sort of resemblance or ar.
becoming; merely because such appendages alogy which they seem to have to their natuare no longer to be seen, but upon the heads ral and appropriate objects. The language
of sober and sedentary lawyers, or in the pic- of Poetry is founded, in a great degree, upon
tures of antiquated esquires.             this analogy; and all language, indeed, is full
We cannot afford, however, to enlarge any of it; and attests, by its structure, both the
farther upon these considerations, and are in- extent to which it is spontaneously pursued,
cdined indeed to think, that what has been and the effects that are produced by its sugalready said on the subject of associations, gestion. We take a familiar instance from
which, though not universal, are common to the elegant writer to whom we have already
whole classes of persons, will make it unne- referred.
cessary to enlarge on those that are peculiar   " What, for instance, is the leading impresto each individual. It is almost enough, in- sion we receive from the scenery of spring 
deed, to transcribe the following short pas- The soft and gentle green with which the
sage from Mr. Alison.                     earth is spread, the feeble texture of the'"There is no man, who has not some inter- plants and flowers, and the remains of winter
esting associations with particular scenes, or yet lingering among the woods and hillsairs, or books; and who does not feel their all conspire to infuse into our minds some-,
beauty or sublimity enhanced to him by such what of that fearful tenderness with n hich
connections. The view of the house where infancy is usually beheld. With such a senone was born, of the school where one was timent, how innumerable are the ideas which
educated, and where the gay years of infancy present themselves to our imagination! ideas,
were passed, is indifferent to no man. There it is apparent, by no means confined to the
are songs also, which we have heard in our scene before our eyes, or to the possible desoinfancy, which. when brought to our remem- lation which may yet await its infant beauty,
brance in after years, raise emotions for which but which almost involuntarily extend themwe cannot well account; and which, though selves to analogies with the life of man! and
perhaps very indifferent in themselves, still bring before us all those images of hope or
continue from this association, and from the fear, which. according to our peculiar situavariety of conceptions which they kindle in tions, have the dominion of our hearts! The
our minds, to be our favourites through life. beauty of autumn is accompanied with a
The scenes which have been distinguished similar exercise of thought: the leaves begin
by the residence of any person, whose mem- then Rb drop from the trees; the flowers and
ory we'admire, produce a similar effect. shrubs, with which the fields were adorned
Mlhovemur enim, nescio quo pacto, locis ipsis, in in the summer months, decay; the woods
quibus eorum, quos diltgimus, aut admiramur and groves are silent; the sun himself seems
adsunt vestigia. The scenes themselves may gradually to withdraw his light, or to become
be little beautiful; but the delight with which enfeebled in his power. Who is there, who,
we recollect the traces of their lives, blends at this season, does not feel his mind impresitself insensibly with the emotions which the sed with a sentiment of melancholy? or who
scenery excites; and the admiration which is able to resist that current of thought,
these recollections afford, seems to give a kind which, from such appearances of decay,- so
of sanctity to the place where they dwelt, and naturally leads him  to the solemn imaginaconverts every thing into beauty which ap- tion of that inevitable fate. which is to bring
pears to have been connected with them."'  on alike the decay of life, of empire) and of natw
There are similar impressions-as to the tlure itself?"                         Ii
sort of scenery to which we have been long   A thousand such analogies, indeed, are sugaccustomed-as to the style of personal beau- gested to us by the most familiar aspects of
ty by which we were first enchanted —and nature. The morning and the evening preeven as to the dialect. or the form of versifi- sent the same ready picture of youth and of
ation which we first began to admire, that closing life, as the various vicissitudes of the
bestow a secret and adventitious charm upon year. The withering of flowers images out
all these objects, and enable us to discover to us the langour of beauty, or the sickness of
in them a beauty which is invisible, because childhood. The loud roar of troubled waters
it is non-existent to every other eye.    seems to bear some resemblance to the voice
In all the cases we have hitherto consid- of lamentation or violence; and the softer
ered, the external object is supposed to have murmur of brighter streams, to be expressive
acquired its beauty by being actually connec- of cheerfulness and innocence. The purity
ted with the causes of our natural emotions, and transparency of water or of air, indeed,
either as a constant sign of their existence, is universally itself felt to be expressive of
or as being casually present on the ordinary mental purity and gaiety; and their darkness
occasions of their excitement. There is a re- or turbulence, of mental gloom and dejection.
lation, however, of another kind, to which The genial warmth of autumn suggests to us
also it is necessary to attend, both to eluci- the feeling of mild benevolence; —the sunny
date the general grounds of the theory, and gleams and fitful showers of early spring, reto explain several appearances that might mind us of the waywardness of infancy;otherwise expose it to objections. This is the flowers waving on their slender stems, imrelation which external objects may bear to press us with the notion of flexibility and
our internal feelings, and the power they may lightness of temper. All fine and delicate
consequently acquire of suggesting them, in forms are typical of delicacy and gentleness




30                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
p character; and almost all forms, bounded the poet has connected with human emotions~
by waving or flowing lines, suggest ideas of a variety of objects, to which common minds
jeasy movement, social pliability, and ele- could not discover such a relation. What the
fgance. Rapid and impetuous motion seems poet does for his readers, however. by his
to be emblematical of violence and passion; original similes and metaphors, in these high-slow and steady motion, of deliberation, er cases. even the dullest of those readers do,
dignity, and resolution;-fluttering motion, of in some degree, every day, for themselves;
inconstancy or terror;-and waving motion, and the beauty which is perceived, when
according as it is slow or swift, of sadness or natural objects are unexpectedly vivified b3
playfulness. A lofty tower, or a massive the glowing fancy of the former, is precisely
building, gives us at once the idea of firm- of the same kind that is felt when the close.
ness and elevation of character; —a rock bat- ness of the analogy enables them to force hutered by the waves, of fortitude in adversity. man feelings upon the recollection of all manStillness and calmness, in the water or the air, kind. As the poet sees more of beauty in
seem  to shadow out tenderness, indolence, nature than ordinary mortals, just because
and placidity;-moonlight we call pensive he perceives more of these analogies and
-and gentle;-and the unclouded sun gives us relations to social emotion, in which all
an impression of exulting vigour, and domi- beauty consists; so other men see more or
neering ambition and glory.               less of this beauty, exactly as they hapIt is not difficult, with the assistance which pen to possess that fancy, or those habits,
language affords us, to trace the origin of all which enable them readily to trace out these
these, and a thousand other associations. In relations.
many instances, the qualities which thus sug-   From all these sources of evidence, tlen,
gest mental emotions, do actually resemble we think it is pretty well made out, that the
their constant concomitants in human nature; beauty or sublimity of external objects is noas is obviously the case with the forms and thing but the reflection of emotions excited
motions which are sublime and beautiful: by the feelings or condition of sentient beand, in some their effects and relations bear ings; and is produced altogether by certain
so obvious an analogy to those of human con- little portions, as it were, of love, joy. pity
duct or feeling, as to force itself upon the no- veneration, or terror, that adhere to the obtice of the most careless beholder. But, what- jects that were present on the occasions of
ever may have been their original, the very such emotions.-Nor, after what we have alstructure of language attests the vast Extent ready said, does it seem necessary to reply
to which they have been carried. and the na- to more than one of the objections' to which
ture of the suggestions to which they are in- we are aware that this theory is liable.-If
debted for their interest or beauty. Since we beauty be nothing more than a reflection of
all speak familiarly of the sparkling of wit — love, pity, or veneration how comes it, it may
and the darkness of melancholy-can it be be asked, to be distilguished from these senany way difficult to conceive that bright light timents? They are never confounded with
may be agreeable, because it reminds us of each other, either in our feelings or our langaiety-and darkness oppressive, because it guage: —Why, then, should they all be conis felt to be emblematical of sorrow? It is founded under the common name of beauty?
very remarkable, indeed that, while almost and why should beauty, in all cases, affect us
all the words by which the affections of the in a way so different from the love or commind are expressed, seem to have been bor- passion of which it is said to be merely the
rowed originally from the qualities of matter, reflection?
the epithets by which we learn afterwards to   Now, to these questions, we are somewhat
distinguish such material objects as are felt tempted to answer, after the manner of our
to be sublime or beautiful, are all of them  country, by asking, in our turn, whether it be
epithets that had been previously appropri- really true, that beauty always affects us in:ated to express some quality or emotion of one and the same manner, and always in a
mind. Colours are thus familiarly said to be different manner from the simple and elegay or grave-motions to be lively, or delib- mentary affections which it is its office to
erate, or capricious-forms to be delicate or recal to us?  In very many cases, it appear
modest-sounds to be animated or mournful to us, that the sensations which we receive
— prospects to be cheerful or melancholy-  from objects that are felt to be beautiful, and
rocks to be bold-waters to be tranquil-and that in the highest degree, do not differ at all
a thousand other phrases of the same import; from the direct movements of tenderness or
all indicating, most unequivocally, the sources pity towards sentient beings. If the epithet
from which our interest in matter is derived, of beauty be correctly (as it is universally) ap.
and proving, that it is necessary, in all cases, plied to many of the most admired anid ento confer mind and feeling upon it, before it chanting passages in poetry, which consist
can be conceived as either sublime or beauti- entirely in the expression of affecting sentiful. The great charm, indeed, and the great ments, the question would be speedily desecret of poetical diction, consists in thus cided; and it is a fact, at all events. too
lending life and emotion to all the objects it remarkable to be omitted, that some of the
embraces; and the enchanting beauty which most powerful and delightful emotions that
we sometimes recognise in descriptions of are uniformly classed under this name, arise
very ordinary phenomena, will be found to altogether from the direct influence of such
arise from the force of imagination, by which pathetic emotions, without the intervention




ALISON ON TASTE.                                  dl
of any material imagery. We 6 e not wish, suggests or recals to' us the ordinary causes
however, to dwell upon an argument, which or proper objects of these emotions, it is evicertainly is not applicable to all parts of the dent that our fancy is kindled by a sudden
question; and, admitting that, on many oc- flash of recollection; and that the effect is
casions, the feelings which we experience produced by means of a certain poetical creafrom beauty, are sensibly different from the tion that is instantly conjured up in the mind.
primary emotions in which we think they It is this active and heated state of the imaoriginate, we shall endeavour in a very few  gination, and this divided and busy occupawords. to give an explanation of this differ- tion of the mind, that constitute the great
ence, which seems to be perfectly consist- peculiarity of the emotions we experience
ent with the theory we have undertaken to from the perception of beauty.
illustrate.                                 F a, ad this is perhaps the most imIn the first place, it should make some dif- portant consideration of the whole, it should
ference on the primary affections to which be recollected, that, along with the shadow or
(we have alluded, that, in the cases alluded to, suggestion of associated emotions, there is
they are reflected from material objects, and always present a real and direct perception,.not directly excited by their natural causes. which not only gives a force and liveliness to
The light of the moon has a very different all the images which it suggests, but seems
complexion from that of the sun; —though it to impart to them  some share of its own
is in substance the sun's light: and glimpses reality. That there is an illusion of this kind
of interesting, or even of familiar objects, in the case, is sufficiently demonstrated by
caught unexpectedly from a mirror placed at the fact, that we invariably ascribe the intera distance from these objects, will affect us, est, which we think has been proved to arise
like sudden allusions in poetry, very differ- wholly from these associations, to the object
ently from the natural perception of those ob- itself, as one of its actual and inherent quali-I
jects in their ordinary relations. In the next ties; and consider its beauty as no less a propplace, the emotion, when suggested in the erty belonging to it, than any of its physical
shape of beauty, comes upon us, for the most attributes. The associated interest, therepart, disencumbered of all those accompani- fore, is beyond all doubt confounded withthbe;ments which frequently give it a peculiar and present perception of the object itself; and a
less satisfactory character, when it arises from  livelier and more instant impressionYi accorddirect intercourse with its living objects. he  ingly made upon the mind, than if the intercompassion, for example, that is suggested I;  estilng conceptions had been merely excited
beauty of a gentle and winning description, is in the memory by the usual operation of renot attended with any of that disgust and un- flection or voluntary meditation. Something.easiness which frequently accompany the analogous to this is familiarly known to occur
spectacle of real distress; nor with that im- in other cases. When we merely think of an
portunate suggestion of the duty of relieving absent friend, our emotions are incomparably
it, from which it is almost inseparable. N   less lively than when the recollection of him
does the temporary delight which we receive is suddenly suggested by the unexpected
from beauty of a gay and animating charac- sight of his picture, of the house where he
ter, call upon us for any such expenditure of dwelt, or the spot on which we last parted
spirits, or active demonstrations of sympathy, from him-and all these objects seem for the
as are sometimes demanded by the turbu- moment to wear the colours of our own assolen,'e of real joy. In the thjd place, the ciated affections. When Captain Cook's cornemotion of beauty, being partlyTTounded upon panions found, in the remotest corner of the
illusion, is far more transitory in its own na- habitable globe, a broken spoon with the word
ture, and is both more apt to fluctuate and London stamped upon it —and burst into tears
vary in its character, and more capable of at the sight!-they proved how differently we
being dismissed at pleasure, than any of the may be moved by emotions thus connected
primary affections, whose shadow and repre- with the real presence of an actual percepsentative it is. In the fourth place, the per- tion, than by the mere recollection of the obception of beauty implies a..certaierci e jects on which those emotions depend. Every
of the imagination that is not required in the one of them had probably thought of London
-case o'"fi/:TeT-c n. eand is sufficient, of it- every day since he left it; and many of them
self, both to give a new character to every might have been talking of it with tranquilli.
emotion that is suggested by the intervention ty, but a moment before this more effectual
of such an exercise, and to account for our appeal was made to their sensibility.
classing all the various emotions that are so   If we add to all this, that there is necessa..
suggested under the same denomination of rily something of vagueness and variableness
beauty. When we are injured, we feel in- in the emotions most generally excited by the
dignation —when we are wounded, we feel perception of beauty, and that the mind wanpain-when we see suffering, we feel com- ders with the eye, over the different oblects
passion-and when we witness any splendid which may supply these emotions, with a
act of heroism or generosity. we feel admira- degree of unsteadiness. and half voluntary
tion-without any effort of the imagination, half involuntary fluctuation, we may come to
or the intervention of any picture or vision in understand how the effect not only should be
the mind. But when we feel indignation or essentially different from that of the simple
pity, or admiration, in consequence of seeing presentment of any one interesting concepsome piece of inanimate matter that merely tion, but should acquire a peculiarity which




2                         L;LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHIentitles it to a different denomination.  Most human comfort, ingenuity, and fortune  All
of the associations of which we have been last these, indeed, obviously resolve themselves
speaking, as being founded on the analogies into the great object of sympathy-human
or fanciful resemblances that are-felt to exist enjoyment. Convenience and comfort is but
between physical objects and qualities, and another name for a lower, but very indispenthe interesting affections of mind, are intrin- sable ingredient of that emotion. Skill and
isically of this vague and wavering descrip- ingenuity readily present thenmselves as means
ition-and -when we look at a fine landscape, by which enjoyment may be promoted: and
\or any other scene of complicated beauty. a high fortune, and opulence, and splendour,
great variety of such images are suddenly pass, at least at a distance  for its certain
presented to the fancy, and as suddenly sue- causes and attendlants. The beauty of fitness
zeeded by others, as the eye ranges over the and adaptation of parts, even in the works of
different features of which it is composed, and nature, is derived from the same fountainfeeds upon the charms which it discloses. partly by means of its obvious analogy to
Now, the direct perception, in all such cases, works of human skill, and partly by suogesnot only perpetually accompanies the asso- tions of that Creative power andl wisdom. to
ciated  emotions, but is inextricably con- which all human destiny is subjected. The
founded with them  in our feelings, and is feelings, therefore, associated with all those
even recognised upon reflection as the cause, qualities, though scarcely rising to the height
not merely of their unusual strength, but of of emotion, are obviously in a certain degree
the several peculiarities by whichl"we have pleasing or interesting.; and whenl several of
shown that they are distinguished. It is not them happen to be united in one object, may
wonderful, therefore, either that emotions so accumulate to a very great degree of beauty,
circumstanced should not be classed along It is needless. we think, to pursue these genewith similar affections, excited under different ral propositions through all the details to
circumstances, or that the perception of pre- which they so obviously lea(l. We shall consent existence, thus mixed up, and indissolu- fine ourselves, therefore. to a very few remarks
bly confounded with interesting conceptions, upon the beauty of architecture-and chiefly
should between them produce a sensation of as an illustration of our general position.
so distinct a nature as naturally to be distin-   There'are few things, about which men of
guished by a peculiar name-or that the virti are more apt to rave, than the merits of
beauty which results from this combination the Grecian architecture; and most of those
should, in or(linary language, be ascribed to who affect an uncommon purity and delicacy
the objects themselves-the presence and of taste, talk of the intrinsic beauty of its properception of which is a necessary condition portions as a thing not to be disputed, except
of its existence.                           by barbarian ignorance and stupidity. Mr.
What we have now said is enough. we be- Alison, we think, was the first who gave a
lieve, to give an attentive reader that general full and convincing refutation of this mysteconception of the theory before us, which is rious dogma; and, while he admits, in the
all that we can hope to give in the narrow  most ample terms, the actual beauty of the
limits to which we are confined. It may be objects in question, has shown, we thinlk, in
observed, however, that we have spoken only the clearest manner, that it arises entirely
of those sorts of beauty which we think capa- from the combination of the following assoble of being resolved into some passion, or ciations:-lst, The association of utility, conemotion, or pretty lively sentiment of our na- venience, or fitness for the purposes of the
ture; and though these are undoubtedly the building; 2d, Of security and stability, with a
highest and most decided kinds of beauty, it view to the nature of ihe materials; 3d, Of
is certain that there are many things called the skill and power requisite to mould such
beautiful which cannot claim  so lofty a con- materials inlto forms so commodious; 4th. Cf
nection. It is necessary, therefore, to observe, magnificence. aild splendour, and expe;.se;
that, though every thing that excites any feel- 5th, Of antiquity; and., 6thly, Of Roman and
iing worthy to be called an emotion, by its Grecian greatness. His observations are sum-beauty or sublimity, will be found to be re- med up in the following short sentence.
lated to the natural objects of human passions   a The proportions,7 he observes, "of these
or affections, there are many things which are orders, it is to be remembered, are'distinct
pleasing or agreeable enough to be called subjects of beauty, from the ornaments with
beautiful, in consequence of their relation which they are embellished, from the magnimerely to human convenience and comfort;- ficence with which they are executed. fiom
many others that please by suggesting ideas the purposes of elegance they are intended to
of human skill and ingenuity; —and many serve, or the scenes of grandeur they are des.
that obtain the name of beautiful, by being tined to adorn. It is in such scenes, however,
associated with human fortune, vanity, or and with such additions, that we are accus.
splendour. After what has been already said, tomed to observe them; and, while we feel
it will not be necessary either to exemplify or the effect of all these accidental associations,
explain these subordinate phenomena. It is we are seldom willing to examine what are
enough merely to suggest, that they all please the causes of the complex emotion we feel,
upon the same great principle of sympathy with and readily attribute to the nature of the ar-'human feelings; and are explained by the chitecture itself, the whole pleasure which we
simple and indisputable fact, that we are enjoy. But, besides these, there are other
3leased with the direct contemplation of associations we have with these forms, that




ALISON ON TASTE.                                  33
still more lowerfully serve to command our   Agreeing as he does with Mr. Alison. and
admiration; for they are the GRECIAN orders; all modern inquirers, that the whole beauty
they derive their origin from those times, and of objects consists, in the far greater number
were the ornament of those countries which of instances, in the associations to which we
are most hallowed in our imaginations; and it have alluded, he still maintains, that some
is difficult for us to see them, even in their few visible objects affect us with a sense of
modern copies, without feeling them operate beauty in consequence of the pleasurable im.
upon our minds as relies of those polished pression they make upon the sense-and that
nations where they first arose, and of that our perception of beauty is, in these instances
greater people by whomthey were afterwards a mere organic sensation. Now, we have
borrowed."                                already stated, that it would be something
This analysis is to us perfectly satisfactory. quite unexampled in the history either of
But, indeed, we cannot conceive any more mind or of langulage, if certain physical and
complete refutation of the notion of an in- bodily sensations should thus be confounded
trinsic and inherent beauty in the proportions with moral and social feelings with which
of the Grecian architecture, than the fact of they had no connection, and pass familiarly
the admitted beauty of such very opposite under one and the same name. Beauty conproportions in the Gothic. Opposite as they sists confessedly, in almost all cases, in the
are, however, the great elements of beauty suggestion of moral or social emotions. mixed
are the same in this style as in the other-  up and modified by a present sensation or
the impressions of religious awe and of chi- perception; and it is this suggestion. and this
valrous recollections, coming here in place of identification with a present object, that conthe classical associations which constitute so stitutes its essence, and gives a common
great a share of the interest of the former. It character to the whole class of feelings it
is well observed too by Mr. Alison, that the produces, sufficient to justify their being degreat durability and costliness of the produc- signated by a common appellation. If the
tions of this art, have had the effect, in almost word beauty, in short, must mean something,
all regions of the world, of rendering their and if this be very clearly what it means, in
Fashion permanent, after it had once attained all the remarkable instances of its occurrence,
such a degree of perfection as to fulfil its it is difficult to. conceive, that it should occasubstantial purposes.                     sionally mean something quite different, and
"Buildings." he observes, "may last, and denote a mere sensual or physical gratifica.
are intended to last for centuries. The life tion; unaccompanied by the suggestioteof any
of man is very inadequate to the duration of  lor.motioa.       According to Mr.
such productions; and the present period of Knight, however, and, indeed, to many other
the world, though old with respect to those writers. this is the case with regard to the
arts which are employed upon perishable sub- beauty of colours; which depends altogether,
jects, is yet young in relation to an art, which they say, upon the delight which the eye
is employedt upon so durable materials as naturally takes in their contemplation —this
those of architecture. Instead of a few years, delight being just as primitive and sensual as
therefore, centuries must probably pass before that which the palate receives from the consuch productions demand to be renewed; tact of agreeable flavours.
and, long before that period is elapsed, the   It must be admitted, we think, in the first
sacredness of antiquity is acquired by the place, that such an allegation is in itself exsubject itself, and a new motive given for the tremely improbable, and contrary to all analpreservation of similar forms. In every coun- ogy, and all experience of the structure of
try, accordingly. the same effect has taken language, or of the laws of thought. It is
place: and the same causes which have thus farther to be considered, too, that if the pleaserved to produce among us, for so many sures of the senses are ever to be considered
years, an uniformity of taste with regard to as beautiful, those pleasures which are the
the style of Grecian architecture, have pro- most lively and important would be the most
duced also among the nations of the East, for likely to usurp this denomination, and to take
a much longer course of time, a similar uni- rank with the higher gratifications that result
formity of taste with regard to their orna- from the perception of beauty. Now, it ad.
mental style of architecture; and have per- mits of no dispute, that the mere organic
petuated among them the same forms which pleasures of the eye (if indeed they have any
were in use among their forefathers, before existence) are far inferior to those of the
the Grecian orders were invented."        palate, the touch, and indeed almost all the
It is not necessary, we think, to carry these other senses-none of which, however, are in'Ilustrations any farther: as the theory they any case confounded with the sense of beauty.
are intended to explain, is now, we believe, In the next place, it should follow, that if
universally adopted, though with some limita- what affords organic pleasure to the, eye be
tiona, which we see no reason to retain. Those properly called beautiful, what offends or
suggested by Mr. Alison, we have already en- gives pain to it, should be called ugly. Now,
deavoured to dispose of in the few remarks excessive or dazzling'ght is offensive to the
we have made upon his publication; and it eye-but, considered'  itself; it is never
only remains to say a word or two more upon called ugly, but only painful of disagreeable.
Mr. Knight's doctrine as to the primitive and The moderate excitement'of light, on the
independent beauty of colours, upon which other hands oi the soothin'  of certain bright
we have aL;eady hazarded some remarks.    but temperate colours,  when considered ia
3




14                       LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
this primary aspect, are not called beautiful, which seem to possess the same power of
but only agreeable or refreshing. So far as pleasing, are found, upon examination, to owe
the direct offence or comfort of the organ, in it entirely to the principle of association?
short, is referred to, the language which we   The only reason that can be assigned, or
nise relates strictly to physical or bodily sensa- that actually exists for this distinction, is, that
tion, and is not confounded with that which it has been supposed more difficult to acc munt
relates to mental emotion; and we really see for the beauty of colours, upon the principles
no ground for supposing that there is any ex- which have accounted for other beauties, or
ception to this rule.                      to specify the particular associations by virtue
It is very remarkable, indeed, that the of which they could acquire this quality.
sense whose organic gratification is here sup- Now, it appears to us that there is no such
posed to constitute the primary feeling of difficulty; and that there is no reason whatbeauty, should be one, in the first place, ever for holding that one colour, or combinlawhose direct organic gratifications are of very tion of colours, is more pleasing than another,
little force or intensity — and, in the next except upon the same grounds of association
place, one whose office it is, almost exclu- which recommend particular forms, motions,
sively, to make us acquainted with the exist- or proportions. It appears to us, that the or-:ence and properties of those external objects ganic pleasures of the eye are extremely few
which are naturally interesting to our inward and insignificant. It is hurt, no doubt, by an
feelings and affections.  This peculiarity excessive glare of light; and it is in some demakes it (at the very least) extremely proba- gree gratified, perhaps; by a moderate degree
ble, that ideas of emotion should be associated of it. But it is only by the quantity or inwith the perceptions of this sense; but ex- tensity of the light. we think, that it is so
k tremely improbable, that its naked and unas- affected. The colour of it, we take it, is, in
sociated sensations should in any case be all cases, absolutely indifferent. But it is the
classed with such emotions. If the name of colour only that is called beautiful or otherbeauty were given to what directly gratifies wise; and these qualities we think it very
any sense, such as that of tasting or smelling, plainly derives from the common fountain of
which does-njt make us acquainted with the association.
nature or relations of outward objects, there   In the first place, we would ask, whether
would be less room for such an explanation. there is any colour that is beautiful in all
But when it is the business of a particular situations? and, in the next place, whether
sense or organ to introduce to our knowledge there is any colour that is not beautiful in
those objects which are naturally connected some situation? With regard to the first, take
with ideas of emotion, it is easy to understand  the colours that are most commonly referred
how its perceptions should be associated with to as intrinsically beautiful —bright and soft
these em6tions, and an interest and impor- green-clear blue-bright pink, or vermilion.
tance thus extended to them, that belong to The first is unquestionably beautiful in vernal
the intimationsof no other bodily organ. But, woods and  summer meadows; —and, weo
-or those very reasons, we should be prepared humbly conceive, is beautiful, because it is
~to suspect, that all the interest they possess the natural sign and concomitant of those
is derived from thisason       and to dis- scenes and seasons of enjoyment. Blue, again,
truest the accuracy of any o'vations that is beautiful in the vernal sky; —and, as we bemight lead us to conclude that its mere or- lieve, for the sake of the pleasures of which
ganic impulses ever produced anly thing akin  such skies are prolific; and pink is beautiful
to those associated emotions, or entitled to on the cheeks of a young woman or the leaves:pass under their name. This caution will of a rose, for reasons too obvious to be stated.
appear still more reasonable, when it is con- We nave associations enough, therefore, to
sidered, that all the other qualities of visible recommend all those colours, in the situations
objects, ~except only their colours, are now  in which they are beautiful: But, strong as
admitted to be perfectly indifferent in them- these associations are, they are unable to
selves. and to possess no other beauty than   ake them universally beautiful-or beauti.;they may derive from their associations with' ul indeed. in any other situations. Green
our ordinary affections. Th e    "rinoif orms,  ould not be beautiful in the sky-nor blue.for example, even in Mr. Knight's opinion,    the cheek-nor vermilion on the grass. It'that have any intrinsic beauty, or any power   ay be said, indeed, that, though they are
-of pleasing or affecting us, except through  aways recognised as beautiful in themselves,
~their associations, or affinities to mental affec-  heir obvious unfitness in such situations countions; either as expressive of fitness and utility,  eracts the effect of their beauty, and make
or as types and symbols of certain moral or an opposite impression, as of something monintellectual qualities, in which the sources of strous and unnatural; and that, accordingly,,our interest are obvious. Yet the form of an they are all beautiful in indifferent situations,
object is as conspicuous an ingredient of its where there is no such antagonist principle-..t eauty as its colour; and a property, too, in furniture, dress, and ornaments. Now the'vhich seems at first view to be as intrinsic- fact, in the first place, is not so;-these bright
ally and independently pleasing. Why, then, colours being but seldom and sparingly ad~should we persist in holding that colours, or mitted in ornaments or works of art; and no
combinations of colours, please from  being man, for example, choosing to have a blue
naturaVy agreeable to the organ of sight, when house, or a green ceiling, or a pink coat. But,
it is admitted that other visible qualities, in the second place, if the facts were admitted




ALISON ON TASTE.                                   35
w e'think it obvious, that the general beauty of used without reference to the practical diffi.
those colours would be sufficiently accounted culties of the art, which must go for nothing
for by the very interesting and powerful asso- in the present question, really mean little more
cliations under which all of them are s"tr-f- than the true and natural appearance of co.
qffeittly presented by the hand of Nature. loured objects, seen through the same tinted
The interest we take in female beauty,-in or partially obscure medium that commonly
vernal delights,-in unclouded skies,-is far constitutes the atmosphere: and for the actual
too lively and too constantly recurring, not to optical effects of which but few artists know
stamp a kindred interest upon the colours how to make the proper allowance. In na.
that are naturally associated with such ob- ture, we know of no discordant or offensive
jects; and to make us regard with some affec- colouring, except what may be referred to
tion and delight those hues that remind us of some accident or disaster that spoils the mcral
them, although we should only meet them  or sentimental expression of the scene, and
upon a fan, or a dressing-box, the lining of a disturbs the associations upon which all its
curtain, or the back of a screen. Finally, we beauty, whether of forms or of hues, seems
beg leave to observe, that all bright and clear to us very plainly dependent. We are per/colours are naturally typical of cheerfulness fectly aware, that ingenious persons have been;and purity of mind, and are hailed as em- disposed to dogmatize and to speculate very
blems of moral qualities to which no one can confidently upon these subjects; and have
be indifferent.                            had the benefit of seeing vari(us learned treaWith regard to ugly colours again, we really tises upon the natural gamut of colours, and
are not aware of any to which that epithet the inherent congruity of those that are called
can be safely applied. Dull and dingy hues complementary, with reference to the prisare usually mentioned as in themselves the matic spectrum.  But we confess we have no
least pleasing. Yet these are the prevailing faith in any of those fancies- and believe
tints in many beautiful landscapes, and many that, if all these colours' airly arranged
admired pictures. They are also the most on a plain board, according to the most rigid
common colours that are chosen for dress rules of this supposed harmony, nobody, but
(male dress at least),-for building,-for fur- the author of the theory, would perceive the
niture,-where the consideration of beauty is smallest beauty in the exhibition, or be the
the only motive for the choice. In fact, the least offended by reversing their collocation.
shaded parts of all coloured objects pass into   We do not mean, however, to dispute, that
tints of this description:-nor can we at pre- the laws of colouring, insisted on by learned
sent recollect any one colour, which we could artists, will produ(e a more pleasing effect i
specify as in itself disagreeable, without run- upon trained judges of the art, than a neglect
ning counter to the feelings and the practice of of these laws; because we have little doubt
the great mass of mankind. If the fact, how- that these combinations of colour are recomever, were otherwise, and if certain muddy mended by certain associations, which render'
and dull colours were universally allowed to them generally pleasing to persons so trained
be disagreeable, we should think there could and educated;-all that we maintain is, that
be no difficulty in referring these, too, to na- there are no combinations that are originally
tural associations. Darkness, and all that ap- and universally pleasing or displeasing to the
proaches it, is naturally associated with ideas eye, independent of such associations; and, it
of melancholy,-of helplessness, and danger; seems to us an irresistible proof of this, that
— and the gloomy hues that remind us of it, these laws of harmonious colouring are per.
or seem to draw upon it, must share in the petually and deliberately violated by great
same associations. Lurid skies, too, it should multitudes of persons, who not only have the
be observed, and turbid waters, and unfruitful perfect use of their sight, but are actually beswamps, and dreary morasses, are the natural stowing great pains and expense in providing
and most common wearers of these dismal for its gratification, in the very act of this violiveries. It is from these that we first become lation. The Dutch trader, who paints over the
acquainted with them; and it is needless, outside of his country-house with as many
therefore, to say, that such objects are neces- bright colours as are to be found in his tulipsarily associated with ideas of discomfort, and bed, and garnishes his green shutters with
sadness, and danger; and that the colours that blue facings, and his purple roof with lilac
remind us of them, can scarcely fail to recal ridges, not only sees as well as the studied cosome of the same disagreeable sensations.   lourist, who shudders at the exhibition, but
Enough, however, and more than enough, actually receives as much pleasure, and as
has been said about the supposed primitive strong an impression of beauty, from the finand independant beauty of separate colours. ished lusthaus, as the artist does from one of
It is chiefly upon the intrinsic beauty of their his best pictures. It is impossible, then, that
mixture or combinations that Mr. Knight and these combinations of colours can be naturally
his adherents have insisted; -and it is no or intrinsicaliy offensive to the organ of sight;
doubt quite true, that, among painters and and their beauty or ugliness must depend uponconnoisseurs, we hear a great deal about the the associations which different individual'
harmony and composition of tints, and the may  val ed  to form with regard to
charms and difficulties of a judicious colour- them.  We contend, however, for nothing
ing. In all this, however, we cannot help sus- more; and are quite willing to allow that the
pecting that there is no little pedantry, and no associations which recommend his staring
little jargon; and that these phrases, when tawdriness to the burgomaster, are such as




5f6                       LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
could not easily have been formed in the mind in a picture; because cons idered as mere
of a diligent and extensive observer of nature. objects of sight, they may often present beauand that they would probably be reversed by tiful effects of colouring and shadow; and
habits of reflection and study. But the same these are preserved or heightened in the imithing, it is obvious, may be said of the notions tation, disjointed from all their offensive, acof beauty of any other description that pre- companiments. Now, if the tints and shad es
vail among the rude, the inexperienced, and were the exclusive sources of our gratification,
uninstructed;-though, in all other instances, and if this gratification was diminished, in
xwe take it for granted, that the beauty which stead of being heightened, by the suggestion
is perceived depends altogether upon associa- which, however transiently, must still intrude,tion, and in no degree on its power of giving itself, that they appeared in an imitation of'a pleasurable impulse to the organ to which disgusting objects, it must certainly follow,
it addresses itself. If any considerable num- that the pleasure and the beauty would be
ber of persons, with the perfect use of sight, much enhanced if there was no imitation of.
actually take pleasure in certain combinations any thing whatever, and if the canvas merely
of colours-that is complete proof that such presented the tints and shades, unaccompa —
combinations are not naturally offensive to the nied with the representation of any particular
organ of sight, and that the pleasure of such object. It is perfectly obvious, however, that
persons,, exactly like that of those who disa- it would be absurd to call such a collection of
gree with them, is derived not from the sense, coloured spots a beautiful picture; and that a
but from associations with its perceptions.    man would be laughed at who should hang
With regard, again, to the effect of broken up such a piece of stained canvas among the
masses of light and shadow, it is proper, in works of the great artists. Again, if it were
thle first place, to remember, that by the eye really possible for any one, but a student of
we see colour only; and that lights and sha- art, to confine the attention to the mere codows, as far as the mere organ is concerned, louring and shadowing of any picture, there.::mean nothing but variations of tint. It is is nothing so disgusting but what might form
very true, no doubt, that we soon learn to refer the subject of a beautiful imitation. A piece
many of those variations to light and shade,  of putrid veal, or a cancerous ulcer, or the
and that they thus become signs to us of rags that are taken from it, may display the
depth, and distance, and relief. But, is not most brilliant tints, and the finest distribution
this, of itself. sufficient to refute the idea of of light and shadow. Does MVIr. Knight, howtheir affording any primitive or organic plea- ever, seriously think, that either of these exsure?  In so far as they are mere variations periments would succeed? -Or are there, in
of tints, they may be imitated by unmeaning reality, no other qualities in the pictures in
daubs of paint on a pallet; —in so far as they question, to which their beauty can be asire signs, it is to the mind that they address cribed, but the organic effect of their colours?
fthemselves, and not to the organ. They are We humbly conceive that there are; and that
signs, too, it should be recollected, and the far less ingenuity than his might have been
only signs we have, by which we can receive able to detect them.
any correct knowledge of the existence and    There is, in the first place, the pleasing ascondition of all external objects at a distance sociation of the skill and power of the artist
from us, whether interesting or not interest- -a skill and power which we know may be
ing.: Without the assistance of variety of tint, employed to produce unmingled  delight;
and of lights and shadows, we could never whatever may be the character of the partidistinguish one object from another, except by cular effort before us: and with the pride of
the touch. These appearances, therefore, are whose possessors we sympathise. But, in the
the perpetual vehicles of almost all our inter- second place, we do humbly conceive that
esting perceptions; and are consequently as- there are many interesting associations consociated with all the emotions we receive from  nected with the subjects which have been revisible objects. It is pleasant to see many presented as purely disgusting. The aspect
things in one prospect because some of them  of human wretchedness and decay is not, %
are probably agreeable; and it is pleasant to all events, an indifferent spectacle; and, if
know the relations of those things, because presented to us without actual offence to our
the qualities or associations, by means of senses, or any call on our active beneficence,
wuiech they interest us, generally depend upon may excite a sympathetic emotion, which is'that knowledge. The mixture of colours and known to be far from undelightful. Many an
shades, however, is necessary to this enjoy- attractive poem has been written on the mise
ment, and consequently is a sign of it, and a ries of beggars; and why should painting be
source of associated interest or beauty.   supposed more fastidious?  Besides, it will
Mr. Knight, however, goes much farther be observed, that the beggars of the painter
than this; and maintains, that the beauty are generally among the most interesting of
which is so distinctly felt in many pictures of that interesting order; —either young and
objects in themselves disagreeable, is to be lovely children, whose health and gaiety, and
ascribed entirely to the effect of the brilliant sweet expression, form an affecting contrast
and harmonious tints, and the masses of light with their squalid garments, and the neglect
and shadow that may be employed in the re- and misery to which they seem to be destin.
presentation. The filthy and tattered rags of ed-or old and venerable persons, mingling
a beggar, he observes, and the putrifying con- something of the dignity and reverence of aga
taets of a dunghill, may form beautiful objects with the broken spirit of their condition, and




ALISON ON TASTE.                                  37
seeming to reproach mankind for exposing whatever may be thought of tr:e prof er i ame
aeads so old and white to the pelting of the of this singular gratification; of a musical ear,
pitiless storm. While such pictures suggest it seems to be quite certain, that all that rises
images so pathetic, it looks almost like a wil- to the dignity of an emotion in the pleasure we
ful perversity, to ascribe their beauty entirely receive from sounds, is as clearly the gift of
o the mixture of colours which they display, association, as in the case of visible beauty,and to the forgetfulness of these images. of association with the passionate tones and
Even for the dunghill, we think it is possible modulations of the human voice,-with the
to say something,-though, we confess, we scenes to which the interesting sounds are
have never happened to see any picture, of native,-with the poetry to which they have
which that useful compound formed the pe- been married,-or even with the skill and
cul ar subject. There is the display of the genius of the artist by whom they have been
painter's art and power here also; and the arranged.
dunghill is not only useful, but is associated   Hitherto we have spoken of the beauty of
with many pleasing images of rustic toil and external objects only. But the whole diffioccupation, and of the simplicity, and comfort, culty of the theory consists in its application
and innocence of agricultural life. We do not to them. If that be once adjusted, the beauty
know that a dunghill is at all a disagreeable of immaterial objects can occasion no perobject to look at, even in plain reality-pro- plexity. Poems and other compositions* in 
vided it be so far off as not to annoy us with words, are beautiful in proportion as they are 3
its odour, or to soil us with its effusions. In conversant with beautiful objects-or as they
a picture, however, we are safe from any of suggest to us, in a more direct way, the moral
these disasters; and, considering that it is and social emotions on which the beauty of 
usually combined, in such delineations, with all objects depends. Theorems and demonother more pleasing and touching remem- strations again are beautiful, according as they
brancers of humble happiness and content- excite in us emotions of admiration for the
ment, we really do not see that it was at all genius and intellectual power of their inventnecessary to impute any mysterious or intrin- ors, and images of the magnificent and benesic beauty to its complexion. in order to ac- ficial ends to which such discoveries may be
count for the satisfaction with which we can applied;-and mechanical contrivances are
then bear to behold it.                   beautiful when they remind us of similar
Having said so much with a view to reduce talents and ingenuity, and at the same time
to its just value, as an ingredient of beauty, impress us with a more direct sense of their
o'the mere organical delight which the eye vast utility to mankindi and of the great adis supposed to derive from colours, we really ditional conveniences with which life is conhave no patience to apply the same consider- sequently adorned. In all cases, therefore,>
ations to the alleged beauty of Sounds that are there is the suggestion of some interesting
supposed to be insignificant. Beautiful sounds, conception or emotion associated with a prein general, we think, are beautiful from as- sent perception, in which it is apparently(
sociation only,-from  their resembling the confounded and embodied-and this, accordnatural tones of various passions and affec- ing to the whole of the preceding deduction,
tions,-or from their being originally and most is the distinguishing characteristic of beauty.
frequently presented to us in scenes or on   Having now explained, as fully as we think,,
occasions of natural interest or emotion. With necessary, the grounds of that opinion as to
regard, again, to successive or coexistent the nature of beauty which appears to be most
sounds, we do not, of course, mean to dispute, conformable to the truth —we have only to
that there are such things as melody and har- add a word or two as to the necessary consemony; and that most men are offended or quences of its adoption upon several other
gratified by the violation or observance of controversies of a kindred description.
those laws upon which they depend. This,   In the first place, then, we conceive that it
iowever, it should be observed, is a faculty establishes the substantial identity of the
quite unique, and unlike anything else in our Sublime, the Beautiful, and the Picturesque;
constitution; by no means universal, as the and, consequently, puts an end to all controsense of beauty is, even in cultivated societies; versy that is not purely verbal, as to the difand apparently withheld from whole commu- ference of those several qualities.  Every
nities of quick-eared savages and barbarians. material object that interests us, without acWhether the kind of gratification, which re- tually hurting or gratifying our bodily feelings,
su.ts from the mere musical arrangement of must do so, according to this theory, in one
sounds, would be felt to be beautiful, or would and the same manner,-that is, by suggesting
pass under that name; if it could be presented or recalling some emotion or affection of ourientirely detached from any associated emo- selves. or some other sentient being, and preitions, appears to us to be exceedingly doubtful. senting, to our imagination at least, some
Even with the benefit of such combinations, natural object of love, pity, admiration, or awe.
we do not find, that every arrangement which The interest of  ater   cts thereforeis
merely preserves inviolate the rules of com-lwaythe sam e; and arises, in every case,
position, is considered as beautiful; and we nt fro   ysical qualities they may
do not think that it would be consonant, either possess, but rom their association with sonte
with the common feeling or common language idea of emotion. But, though material objects
of mankind, to bestow this epithet upon pieces have but one means of exciting emotion, the
that had no other merit. At all events, and emotions they do excite are infinite. They




~88                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
are mirrors that may reflect all shades and all Beautiful, already referred to, has o served,
colours; and, in point of fact; do seldom reflect not only that there appears to himn to be nd
the same hues twice. No two interesting inconsistency or impropriety in such express
objects, perhaps, whether known by the name sions as the sublime beauties of nature, or of
of Beautiful, Sublime, or Picturesque, ever the sacred Scriptures; —but has added, in exproduced exactly the same emotion in the press ternis, that, "to oppose the beautiful to
oeholder; and no one object, it is most pro- the sublime, or to the picturesque, strikes him
bable, ever moved any two persons to the as something analogous to a contrast between
very same conceptions. As they may be as- the beautiful and the comic-the beautiful
sociated with all the feelings and affections and the tragic-the beautiful and the pathetic
of which the human mind is susceptible, so -or the beautiful and the romantic."
they may suggest those feelings in all their   The only other advantage which we shall
variety, and, in fact, do daily excite all sorts specify as likely to result from the general
of emotions-running through everygradation, adoption of the theory we have been endeafrom  extreme gaiety and elevation, to the vouring to illustrate is, that it seems calcuborders of horror and disgust.             lated to put an end to all these perplexing
Now, it is certainly true, that all the variety and vexatious questions about the standard
of emotions raised in this way, on the single of taste. which have given occasion to so
basis of association, may be classed in a rude much impertinent and so much elaborate dispvay, under the denominations of sublime, cussion. If things are not beautiful in thempeautiful, and picturesque, according as they selves, but only as they serve to suggest inpartake of awe, tenderness, or admiration:' teresting conceptions to the mind, then every
and we have no other objection to this nomefn" thing which does in point of fact suggest such
clature, except its extreme imperfection, and a conception to any individual, is beautiful to
the delusions to which we know that it- has that individual; and it is not only quite true
given occasion. If objects that interest by that there is no room  for disputing about
their association with ideas of power, and tastes, but that all tastes are equally just and
danger; and terror, are to be distinguished by correct, in so far as each individual speaks
the peculiar name of sublime, why should onlyof his own emotions. When a man calls
there not be a separate name also for objects a thing beautiful, however, he may indeed
that interest by associations of mirth and mean to make two very different assertions;
gaiety-another for those that please by sug- -he may mean that it gives him pleasure by
gestions of softness and melancholy-another suggesting to him  some interesting emotion;
for such as are connected with impressions and, in this sense, there can be no doubt that,
of comfort and tranquillity-and another for if he merely speak truth, the thing is beautithose that are related to pity, and admiration, ful; and that it pleases him precisely in the
and love, and regret, and all the other distinct same way that all other things please those
emotions and affections of our nature? These to whom they appear beautiful. But if he
are not in reality less distinguishable from  mean farther toq say that the thing possesses
each other, than from the emotions of awe some quality Which should make it appear
and veneration that confer the title of sublime beautiful to every other person, and that it is
on their representatives; and while all the owing to some prejudice or defect in them if
former are confounded under the comprehen- it appear otherwise, then he is as unreasonasive appellation of beauty, this partial attempt ble and absurd as he would think those who
at distinction is only apt to mislead us into an should attempt to convince him that he felt
erroneous opinion of our accuracy, and to no emotion of beauty.
make us believe, both that there is a greater   All tastes, then, are equally just and true,
conformity among the things that pass under in so far as concerns the individual whose
the same name, and a greater difference be- taste is in question; and what a man feels
tween those that pass under different names, distinctly to be beautifyl, is beautiful to him,
than is really the case. We have seen already, whatever other people inay think of it. All
that the radical error of almost all preceding this follows clearly fromn the theory now in
inquirers, has lain in supposing that every question: but it does not follow, from it, that.hing that passed under the name of beautiful, all tastes are equally good or desirable, ox
uiust have some real and inherent quality in that there is any difficulty in describing tha:
colnmon with every thing else that obtained  which is really the best, and the most to bg
that name: And it is scarcely necessary for envied. The only use of the faculty of taste
us to observe, that it has been almost as gene- is to afford an innocent delight, and to assist; ral an opinion, that sublimity was not only in the. cultivation of a finer morajt.; and that
isomething radically different from  beauty, man certa"'irywf]Thhavet',iOSri y t delight from
but actually opposite to it; whereas the fact this faculty, who has the most numerous and
-is, that it is far more nearly related to some the most powerful perceptions of beauty.
sorts of beauty, than many sorts of beauty are But, if beauty consist in the reflection of our
to each other; and that both are founded ex- affections and sympathies, it is plain that he
actly upon the same principle of suggesting will always see the most beauty whose affecsome past or possible emotion of some sentient tions are the warmest and most exercisedbeing.                                     whose imagination is the most powerful, and
Upon this important point, we are happy to who has most accustomed himself to attend to
find our opinions confirmed by the authority the objects by which he is surrounded. In so
of Mr Stewart, who, in his Essay on the far as mere feeling and enjoyment are con.




ALISON ON TASTE.                                  35
eerned, therefore, it seems evident, that the of theirs that the public would be astonished
best taste must be that which belongs to the or offended. if they were called upon to join
best affections, the most active fancy, and the in that admiration.  So long as no such call
most attentive habits of observation. It will is made, this anticipated discrepancy of feelfollow pretty exactly too, that all men's per- ing need give them no uneasiness; and the
ceptions of beauty Xill be nearly in proportion suspicion of it should produce no contempt in
to the degree of their sensibility and social any other persons. It is a strange aberration
sympathies; and that those who have no af- indeed of vanity that makes us despise perfectionts towards sentient beings, will be as sons for being happy-for having sources of
certainly insensible to beauty ill external ob- enjoyment in which we cannot share:-and
cts. as he who cannot hear the sound of yet this is the true source of the ridicule,
his frienud's voice, must be (leaf to its echo.  which is so generally poured upon in(lividulals
In so far as the seise of beauty is regarded who seek only to enjoy their peculiar tastes
as a mere source of enljoyment, this seems to unmolested:-for, if there be any truth in the
be the only distinction that deserves to be theory we have been expounding, no taste is
attended to; aind the only cultivation that bat  for any other reasonl than because it is
taste should ever receive, with a view to the peculiar-as the objects in which it delights
gratification  of the iiidividual, should  be must actually serve to suggest to the indithrough the indirect channel of cultivatinlg  vidual those common emotions and( universal
the affections and powers of observation. If affections upon which the sense of beauty is
we aspire, however, to be creators: as well as every where founded.  The misfortune is,
observers of beauty, alnd place any part of however, that we are apt to consider all perour happiness in millisteriiing to the gratifica- sons who make known their peculiar relishes,
tion of others-as artists, or poets, or authors and especially all ewho create any objects for
of any sort-then, indeed, a new (listinlction their gratification, as in some measure (licof tastes, anl  a fart more laborious system of tatinll to the public, and setting up an idol for
cultivation, will be necessary.  A man who gelleral adoration; anti hence this intolerant
pursues only his own delight, Awill be as much interference with almost all peculiar percepcrharmed with objects that suggest powerful tions of beauty, an(l the unsparing derision
\-emotioils in consequence of lpersonal and ac- that pursues all deviations from acknowledged
icideiltal associations. as with those that inltlo- standards. This intolerance, we admit, is often
dluce similar emotions by means of associa- provoked by something of a spirit of proselyt/ tions that are universal and inldestructible. isim and arrogance, in those who mistake their
I To him, all objects of the former class are own casual associations for natural or univerreally as beautiful as those of the latter-and sal relations; andt the consequence is, that
for his own gratification, the creation of.that mortified vanity ultimately dries up, even for
sort of beauty is just as important an occupa- them, the fountain of their peculiar enjoy'
tion: but if he conceive the ambition of cre- ment; and disenchants, by a new association
at:ng beauties for the admiration of others, he of general contempt or ridicule, the scenes
mutst be cautious to employ only such objects that had been consecrated by some innocent
as are the natural signs, or the inseparable but accidental emotion.
concomitants of emotions, of whick the greater   As all men must have some peculiar assopart of mankind are susceptible; and his ciations, all men must have some peculiar
taste will then deserve to be called bad and notions of beauty, and, of course, to a certain
false, if he obtrude upon the public, as beau- extent, a taste that the public would be entiful, objects that are not likely to be associa- titled to consider as false or. vitiated. For
ted in common minds with any interesting those who make no demands on public admiimrpressions.                              ration, however, it is hard to be obliged to
For a man himself, then, there is no taste sacrifice this source of enjoyment; and, even
that is either bad or false; and the only dif- for those who labour for applause, the wisest
ference worthy of being attended to is that course, perhaps if it were only practicable,
between a great deal and a very little. Some would be, to have two tastes-one to enjoy,
who have cold affections, sluggish imagina- and one to work by-c-ne founded upon unitions, and no habits of observation, can with versal associations, according to which they
difficulty discern beauty in any thing; while finished those performances for which they
others, who are full of kindness and sensi- challenged universal paise —andanotherguid.
bility; and who have been accustomed to at- ed by all casual and individual associations
tend to all the objects around them, feel it through which they might still look fondly
almost in every thing. It is no matter what upon nature, and upon the objects of tilie
other people may think of the objects of their Ievt admiration.
admiration; nor ought it tb be any concern




LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
(Noxem ber, 1812.)
De la Littcrature consideree dans ses Rapports avec les Institutins Sociles. Par MAD. rlw
STAEL-HoLsTEIN. Avec un Pr6cis de la Vie et les Ecrits de l'Auteur. 2 tomes.  12mo.
pp. 600. London: 1812.*
WHEN we say that Madame de Staci is de- I and manners; or who has thrown so strong a
cidedly the most eminent literary female of i light upon the capricious and apparently unher age, we do not mean to deny that there accountable diversities of national taste, gemay be others whose writings are of more di- nius, and morality-by connecting them with
rect and indisputable utility-who are distin- the political structure of society, the accidents
guished by greater justness and sobriety of of climate and external relation, and the va
thinking, and may pretend to have conferred riety of creeds and superstitions. In her lighter
more practical benefits on the existing genera- works, this spirit is indicated chiefly by the
tion. But it is impossible, we think, to deny, force and comprehensiveness of those general
that she has pursued a more lofty as well as observations with which they abound; and
a mro.e dangerous career;-that she has treat- which strike at once, by their justness and
ed Of subjects of far greater difficulty, and far novelty, and by the great extent of their apmore extensive interest; and, even in her plication. They prove also in how remarkfailures, has frequently given indication of able a degree she possesses the rare talent
greater powers, than have sufficed for the of embodying in one luminous proposition
success of her more prudent contemporaries.  those sentiments and impressions which float
While other female writers have contented unquestioned and undefined over many an
themselves, for the most part, with embel- understanding, and give a colour to the chalishing or explaining the truths which the racter, and a bias to the conduct, of multitudes,
more robust, intellect of the other sex had who are not so much as aware of their existpreviously established-in making knowledge ence.  Besides all this. her novels bear
more familiar, or virtue more engaging-or, testimony to the extraordinary accuracy and
at most, in multiplying the finer distinctions minuteness of her observation of human chawhich may be detected about the boundaries racter, and to her thorough knowledge of
of taste or of morality-and in illustrating the those dark and secret workings of the heart,
importance of the minor virtues to the general by which misery is so often elaborated from
happiness of life —this distinguished person the pure element of the affections.  Her
has not only aimed at extending the bounda- knowledge, however, we must say, seems to
ries of knowledge, and rectifying the errors of be more of evil than of good: For the prereceived opinions upon subjects of the greatest dominating sentiment in her fictions is, despaii
importance, but has vigorously, applied her- of human happiness and human virtue; and
self: to trace out the operation of general their interest is founded almost entirely on
causes, and, by combining the past with the the inherent and almost inevitable heartlesspresent, and pointing out the connection and ness of polished man. The impression which
reciprocal action of all coexistent phenomena, they leave upon the mind. therefore, though
to develope the harmonious system which ac- powerfully pathetic, is both painful and hutually prevails in the apparent chaos of human miliating; at the same time that it proceeds,
affairs; and to gain something like an assur- we are inclined to believe, upon the double
ance as to the complexion of that futurity to- error of supposing that the bulk of intelligent
wards which our thoughts are so anxiously people are as selfish as those splendid victims
driven, by the selfish as well as the generous of fashion and philosophy from whom her chaprinciples of our nature.                  racters are selected; and that a sensibility to
We are not acquainted, indeed, with any unkindness can long survive the extinction
writer who has made such bold and vigorous of all kindly emotions. The work. before
attempts to carry the generalizing spirit of us, however, exhibits the fairest specimen
true philosophy into the history of literature which we have yet seen of the systematizing
spirit of the author, as well as of the moral
* I reprint this paper as containing a more cor- enthusiasm by which she seems to be posprehensive view of the progress of Literature, es. sessed.
pecially in the ancient world, than any other from    The professed object of this work is to show
which I could make the selection; and also, in that all the peculiarities in the literature of
some degree, for the sake of the general discussion different ages and countries may be explained
on P     ier itiily, which I still think satisfactorly 
conducted. I regret that, in the body of the article, by a reference to the condition of society, and
the portions that are taken from Madame de StaiI the political and religious institutions of each
are not better discriminated from those for which I -and at the same time, to point out in what
only am responsible. The reader, however, will way the progress of letters has in its turn
not go far wrong, if he attribute to that distinguished moiified and affected the government and
person the greater part of what may strike him as
bold, imaginative, and original; and leave to me religion                          ey
the humbier province of the sober, corrective, and i have flourished. All this, however, is botdistrustful.                              j tomed upon the more fundamental and fa-,




MADAME DE STAjEL HOLSTEIN.                                  41
yourite proposition, that there is a progress, to    There is a very eloquent and high-toned
produce these effects-that letters and intelli- Introduction. illustrating, in a general way
gence are in a state of constant, universal, and  the influence of literature on the morals, the
irresistible advancement-in other words, that glory, the freedom, and the enjoyments of the
human nature is tending, by a slow and inter- people among whom it flourishes.  It is full
minable progression, to a state of perfection. of brilliant thoughts and profound observaThis fascinating idea seems to have been kept tions; but we are most struck with those
constantly in view by Madame de Stadl, from  sentiments of mingled triumph and mortifithe beginning to the end of the work before cation by which she connects these magnifius; —and though we conceive it to have been  cent speculations with the tumultuous aspect
pursued with far too sanguine and assured a of the times in which they were nourished.
spirit, and to have led in this way to most of
what is rash and questionable in her conclu-    " Que ne puis-je rappeler tous les esprits 6clairsj
sions, it is impossible to doubt that it has also  a lajouissance des m6ditations philosophiques! Le
h e  to m y e aats *     ht - a~ ~coneinpora. ls d'une Revolution perdent souvent
helped her to many explanations that are tout interet a la recherche de la verit6. Tant d'6vbe
equally solid and ingenious, and thrown a nemens decid6s par la force, tant de crimes absous
light upon many phenomena that would other- par le succes, tant de vertus flitries par le blame,
wise have appeared very dark and unac-  tant d'infortunes insultdes par le pouvoir, taut de
countable.                                   sentimens genereux devenus l'objet de la moquerie,
In the range which she here takes, indeed, tant de vils calculs philosophiquement comment6s;,     tout lasse de l'espdrance les hommes les plus fideles
she has need of all the lights and all the aids au culte de la raison. Naninoins ils doivent se
that can present themselves; —for her work  ranimner en observant, dans i'histoire de l'esprit
contains a critique and a theory of all the humain, qu'il n'a existe ni une pensee utile, ni une
literature and philosophy in the world, from  verit6 plofonde qui n'ait trotve son sicle et ses
the days of Homer to the tenth year of the admirateurs. C'est sans doute un triste effort que
de transporter son int6ret, de reposer son attente, a
French revolution. She begins with the early travers l'avenir, sur nos successeurs, str ]es 6tranlearning and philosophy of Greece; and after gers bien loin de nous, sur les inconnus, sur tous
characterizing the national taste and genius les hommes enfin dont le souvenir et l'image ne
of that illustrious people, in all its depart- peuvent se retracer ii notre esprit. Mais. hWlas! si
ments, and in the different stages of their I'on en excepte quelques amis inaltdrables, la pluprogress, she proceeds to a similar investi- part de ceux qu'on se rappelle apres dix annees de
revolution, contristent votre ceur, 6touffent vos
gation of the literature and science of the mouvemens, en imposent a votre talent mmem, non
Romans; and then, after a hasty sketch of par leur sup6rioritY, mais par cette malveillance qui
the decline of arts and letters in the later ne cause de la douleur qu'aux ames douces, et ne
days of the empire, and of the actual progress fait souffrir que ceux qui ne la m6ritent pas." —Tom.
of the human mind during the dark ages, i. p. 27, 28.
when it is supposed to have slumbered in    The connection between good morals and
complete inactivity, she enters upon a more that improved  state of intelligence which
detailed examination of the peculiarities, and Madame de StaOl considers as synonymous
the causes of the peculiarities, of all the dif- with the cultivation of literature, is too obviferent aspects of national taste and genius that ous to require any great exertion of her talents
characterize the literature of Italy, Spain, for its elucidation.  She observes, with great
England, Germany, and France-entering, as truth, that much of the guilt and the misery
to each, into a pretty minute exposition of its which are vulgarly imputed to great talents,
general merits and defects —and not only of really arise from not having talent enoughthe circumstances in the situation of the coun- and that the only certain cure for the errors
try that have produced those characteristics, which are produced by superficial thinking,
but even of the authors and productions, in is to be found in thinking more deeply:-At
which they are chiefly exemplified.  To go the same time it ought not to be forgotten,
through all this with tolerable success, and that all men have not the capacity of thinkwithout committing any very gross or ridicu- inlg deeply-and that the most general cultilous blunders, evidently required, in the first vation of literature will not invest every one
place, a greater allowance of learning than with talents of the first order.  If there be a
as often -fallen to the lot of persons of the degree of intelligence, therefore, that is more
learned gender, who lay a pretty bold claim  unfavourable to the interests of morality and
to distinction upon the ground of their learn- just opinion, than an utter want of intelliing alone; and, in the next place, an extent gence, it may be presumed, that, in very e:nof general knowledge, and a power and com- lightened times, this will be the portion of
prehensiveness of thinking, that has still more the greater multitude-or at least that nations
rarely been the ornament of great scholars. and individuals will have to pass through this
Madame de Stadl may be surpassed, perhaps, troubled and daigerous sphere, in their way
in scholarship (so far as relates to accuracy at to the loftier and purer regions of perfect unleast, if not extent,) by some-and in sound derstanding.  The better answer therefore
philosophy by others.  But there are few in- probably is, that' it is not intelligence that
deed who can boast of having so much of does the mischief in any case whatsoever,
both; and no one, so far as we know, who but the presumption that sometimes accomhas applied the one to the elucidation of the panies the lower degrees of it; and which is
other with so much boldness and success. best disjoined from  them, by making the
But it is time to give a little more particular higher degrees more attainable. It is quite
account of her lucubrations.                 true, as Madame de SaPil observes, that the




42                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
power of public opinion, which is the only lofty aims which connect us with a long
sure and ultimate guardian either of freedom  futurity.
or of virtue, is greater or less exactly as the   The introduction ends with an eloquent
public is more or less enlightened; and that profession of the author's unshaken faith in
this public can never be trained to the habit the philosophical creed of Perfectibility:of just and commanding sentiments, except upon which, as it does not happen to be our
under the influence of a sound and progressive creed, and is very frequently brought into
literature.  The abuse of power, and the notice in the course of the work, we must
abuse of the means of enjoyment, are the here be indulged with a few preliminary
great sources of misery and depravity in an observations.
advanced stage of society. Both originate   This splendid illusion, which seems to have
with those who stand on the highest stages succeeded that of Optimism in the favour of
of human fortune; and the cure is to be found, philosophical enthusiasts, and rests, like it,
in both cases, only in the enlightened opinion upon the notion that the whole scheme of a
of those who stand a little lower.       beneficent Providence is to be developed in
Liberty, it will not be disputed, is still this world, is supported by Madame de Sta6l
more clearly dependent on intelligence than upon a variety of grounds: and as, like most
morality itself. When the governors are ig- other illusions, it has a considerable admixnorant, they are naturally tyrannical. Force ture of truth, it is supported, in many points,
is the obvious resource of those who are inca- upon grounds that are both solid and ingenipable of convincing; and the more unworthy ous. She relies chiefly, of course, upon the
any one is of the power with' which he is in- experience of the past; and, in particular
vested, the more rigorously will he exercise upon the marked and decided superiority o?
that power. But it is in the intelligence of the moderns in respect of thought and refiecthe people themselves that the chief bulwark tion —their more profound knowledge of huof their freedom will be found to consist, and man feelings, and more comprehensive views
all the principles of political amelioration to of human affairs. She ascribes less importoriginate. This is true, however, as Madame ance than is usually done to our attainments
de Sta6l observes, only of what she terms in mere science, and the arts that relate to
"la haute littgrature;" or the general cultiva- matter; and augurs less confidently as to the
tion of philosophy, eloquence. history, and future fortune of the species, from the exploits
those other departments of learning which of Newton, Watt, and Davy, than from those
refer chiefly to the heart and the understand- of Bacon, Bossuet, Locke, Hume, and Voltaire.
ing, and depend upon a knowledge of human In eloquence, too, and in taste and fancy, she
nature. and an attentive study of all that admits that there has been a less conspicuous
contributes to its actual enjoyments. What advancement; because, in these things, there
is merely for. delight, again, and addresses is a natural limit or point of perfection, which
itself exclusively to the imagination, has has been already attained: But there are no
neither so noble a genealogy, nor half so boundaries to the increase of human knowillustrious a progeny. Poetry and works of ledge, or to the discovery of the means of hugaiety and amusement, together with music man happiness; and every step that is gained
and the sister arts of painting and sculpture, in those higher walks, is gained, she conceives
have a much slighter connection either with for posterity, and for ever.
virtue or with freedom. Though among their   The great objection derived from the signal
most graceful ornaments, they may yet flour- check which the arts and civility of life reish under tyrants; and be relished in the midst ceived from the inroads of the northern barof the greatest and most debasing corruption barians on the decline of the Roman power,
of manners. It is a fine and a just remark and the long period of darkness and degradatoo, of Madame de Sta]l, that the pursuits tion which ensued, she endeavours to obviate,
which minister to mere delight, and give to by a very bold and ingenious speculation. It
life its charm and voluptuousness, generally is her object here to show that the invasion
produce a great indifference about dying. of the northern tribes not only promoted their
They supersede and displace all the stronger own civilization more effectually than any
passions and affections, by which alone we thing else could have done, but actually imare bound very closely to existence; and, parted to the genius of the vanquished, a
while they habituate the mind to transitory character of energy, solidity, and seriousness,
and passive impressions, seem naturally con- which could never have sprung up of itself
nected with those images of indolence and in the volatile regions of the South. The
intoxication and slumber, to which the idea amalgamation of the two races, she thinks,
of death is so readily assimilated, in charac- has produced a mighty improvement on both;
ters of this description. When life, in short, and the vivacity, the elegance and versatility
is considered. as nothing more than an amuse- of the warmer latitudes, been mingled, inment, its termination is contemplated with finitely to their mutual advantage, with the
far less emotion, and its course, upon the majestic melancholy, the profound thought,
whole, is overshadowed with deeper clouds and the sterner morality of the North. This
of ennui. than when it is presented as a scene combination, again, she conceives, could have
of high duties and honourable labours, and been effected in no way so happily as by the
holds out to us at every turn-not the perish- siuccessful invasion of the ruder people; and
able pastimes of the passing hour, but the the conciliating influence of that common
fixed and distant objects of those serious and faith, which at once repressed the frivolous,




MADAME DE STAEL HOLSTEIN.                                4
and mollified the feroclous tendendies of our people; and are every day extending then
nature. The temporary disappearance there- empire, and multiplying their progeny. Ma
fore of literature and politeness, upon the first dame de Sta0l sees no reason to doubt, there.
shock of this mighty collision, was but the fore, that they will one day inherit the whole
subsidence of the sacred flame under the earth; and, under their reign; she takes it to
heaps of fuel which were thus profusely be clear, that war, and poverty, and all the
provided for its increase; and the seeming misery that arises from vice and ignorance
waste and sterility that ensued, was but the will disappear from the face of society; aiid
first aspect of the fertilizing flood and accu- that men, universally convinced that justice
mulated manure under which vegetation was and benevolence are the true sources of enburied for a while, that it might break out joyment, will seek their own happiness in a
at last with a richer and more indestructible constant endeavour to promote that of their
luxuriance. The human intellect was neither neighbours.
dead nor inactive, she contends, during that   It would be very agreeable to believe all
long slumber, in which it was collecting vig- this-in spite of the grudging which would
our for unprecedented exertions; and the necessarily arise, from the reflection that we
occupations to which it was devoted, though ourselves were born so much too soorn for vir.
not of the most brilliant or attractive descrip- tue and enjoyment in this world. But it is
tion, were perhaps the best fitted for its ul- really impossible to overlook the manifold
timate and substantial improvement. The imperfections of the reasoning on which this
subtle distinctions, the refined casuistry, and splendid anticipation is founded; —though it
ingenious logic of the school divines, were may be worth while to ascertain, if possible,
all favourable to habits of careful and accu- in what degree it is founded in truth.
rate thinking; and led insensibly to a far   The first thing that occurs to a sober-mindmore thorough and profound knowledge of ed listener to this dream of perfectibility, is
human nature-the limits of its faculties and the extreme narrowness of the induction from
the grounds of its duties-than had been which these sweeping conclusions are so conattained by the more careless inquirers of fidently deduced. A progress that is in its
antiquity. When men, therefore, began again own nature infinite and. irresistible, must
to reason upon human affairs, they were found necessarily have been both universal and
to have made an immense progress during the unremitting; and yet the evidence of its experiod when all appeared to be either retro- istence is founded, if we do not deceive ourgrade or stationary; and Shakspeare, Bacon, selves, upon the history of a very small porMachiavel, Montaigne, and Galileo, who ap- tion of the human race, for a very small numpeared almost at the same time, in the most ber of generations. The proposition is, that
distant countries of Europe, each displayed a the human species is advancing, and has alreach of thought and a power of reasoning ways been advancing, to a state of perfection
which we should look for in vain in the elo- by a law of their nature, of the existence of
quent dissertaions of the classical ages. To which their past history and present state
them succeeded such men as Jeremy Taylor, leave no room to doubt. But when we cast
Moliere, Pascal, Locke, and La Bruyere-all a glance upon this high destined species,
of them observers of a character, to which we find this necessary and eternal progress
there is nothing at all parallel in antiquity; scarcely begun, even now, in the old inhabiand yet only preparing the way, in the sue- ted continent of Africa —stationary, as far
ceedfiig age, for Montesquieu, Hume, Voltaire. back aA our information reaches, in ChinaSmith, Burke, Bentham, Malthus, and so many and retrograde, for a period of at least twelve
others; who have made the world familiar centuries, and up to this day, in Egypt, India,
with truths, which, however important and Persia, and Greece. Even in our own Europe,
demonstrable at all times, certainly never which contains probably less than one tenth
entered into the conception of the earlier in- part of our kind, it is admitted, that, for upha:~itants of the world. Those truths, and wards of a thousand years, this gre,.t work of
others still more important, of which they moral nature not only stood still, but went
are destined to be the parents, have already, visibly backwards, over its fairest regions;
according to Madame de Stael, produced a and though there has been a prodigious proprodigious alteration, and an incalculable im- gress in England and France and Germany
provement on the condition of.human nature. during the last two hundred years, it may be
Through their influence, assisted no doubt by doubted whether any thing of this sort can
that of the. Gospel, slavery has been abolished, be said of Spain or Italy; or various other
trade and industry set free from restriction, portions, even of this favoured quarter of the
and war disarmed of half its horrors; while, world. It may be very natural for Madame
m private life, women have been restored to de Sta/l, or for us. looking only to what has
their just rank in society; sentiments of jus- happened in our own world, and in our own
tice and humanity have been universally cul- times, to indulge in those dazzling views of
tivated, and public opinion been armed with the unbounded and universal improvement
a power which renders every other both safe of the whole human race; but such specuand salutary.                             lations would appear rather wild, we suspect,
Many of these truths, which were once the to those whose lot it is to philosophize among
doubtful or derided discoveries of men of the unchanging nations of Asia; and would
original genius, are now admitted as elemen- probably carry even something of ridicule
tary principles in the reasonings of ordinary with them, if propounded upon the ruins of




44                       LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
Thebes or Babylon, or even among the pro- expedient for one individual, might be just
faned relics of Athens or Rome.           the reverse for another. Ease and obscurity
We are not inclined, however to push this are the summum bonum of one description of
very far. The world is certainly something men; while others have an irresistible vocathe wiser forits past experience; —and there is tion to strenuous enterprise, and a positive
an accumulation of useful knowledge, which delight in contention and danger. Nor is the
we think likely to increase. The invention magnitude of our virtues and vices referable
of printing and fire-arms, and the perfect to a more invariable standard. Intemperance
communication that is established over all is less a vice in the robust, and dishonesty
Europe, insures us, we think, against any less foolish in those who care but little for
considerable falling back in respect of the the scorn of society. Some men find their
sciences; or the arts and attainments that chief happiness in relieving sorrow-some in
minister to the conveniences of ordinary life. sympathizing with mirth. Some, again, deWe have no idea that any'of the important rive most of their enjoyment from the exerdiscoveries of modern times will ever again cise of their reasoning faculties-others from
be lost or forgotten; or that any future gene- that of their imagination;-while a third sort
ration will be put to the trouble of inventing, attend to little but the gratification of their
for a second time, the art of making gunpow- senses, and a fourth to that of their vanity.
der or telescopes-the astronomy of Newton, One delights in crowds, and another in solior the mechanics of Watt. All knowledge tude; —one thinks of nothing but glory. and
which admits of demonstration will advance, another of comfort;-and so on, though all
we have no doubt, and extend itself; and all the infinite variety, and infinite combinations,
processes will be improved, that do not inter- of human tastes, temperaments, and habits.
fere with the passions of human nature, or Now, it is plain; that each of those persons
the apparent interests of its ruling classes. not only will, but plainly ought to pursue a
But with regard to every thing depending on different road to the common object of happrobable reasoning, or susceptible of debate, piness; and that they must clash and conseand especially with regard to every thing quently often jostle with each other, even if
touching morality and enjoyment, we really each were fully aware of the peculiarity of
are not sanguine enough to reckon on any his own notions, and of the consequences of
considerable improvement; and suspect that all that he did in obedience to their impulses.
men will go on blundering in speculation, It is altogether impossible, therefore. we
and transgressing in practice, pretty nearly as humbly conceive, that men should ever setthey do at present, to the latest period of their tle the point as to what is, on the whole, the
history.                                  wisest course of conduct, or the best dispoIn the nature of things, indeed, there can sition of mind; or consequently take even
be no end to disputes upon probable, or what the first step towards that perfection of moral
is called moral evidence; nor to the contra- science, or that cordial concert and co-operadictory conduct and consequent hostility and tion in their common pursuit of happiness
oppression, which must result from the oppo- which is the only alternative to their fatal
site views that are taken of such subjects;-  opposition.
and this, partly, because the elements that   This impossibility will become more appaenter into the calculation are so vast and nu- rent when it is considered, that the only inmerous, that many of the most material must strument by which it is pretended that this
always be overlooked by persons of ordinary moral perfection is to be attained, is such a
talent and information; and partly because general illumination of the intellect as to make
there not only is no standard by which the all men fully aware of the consequences of
value of those elements can be ascertained their actions; while the fact is, that it is not,
and made manifest, but that they actually in general, through ignorance of their consehave a different value for almost every dif- quences, that actions producing misery are
ferent individual. With regard to all nice  actually performed. When the misery is inand indeed all debateable questions of happi- flicted upon others, the actors most frequently
ness or morals, therefore, there never can be'disregard it, upon a fair enough comparison
any agreement among men; because, in re- of its amount with the pain they should inality, there is no truth in which they can flict on themselves by forbearance; and even
agree. All questions of this kind turn upon when it falls on their own heads, they will
a comparison of the opposite advantages and generally be found rather to have been undisadvantages of any particuliar course of con- lucky in the game, than to have been truly
duct or habit of mind: but these are really unacquainted with its hazards; and to have
of very different magnitude and importance to ventured with as full a knowledge of the
different persons; and their decision, there- risks, as the fortunes of others can ever imfore, even if they all saw  the whole con- press on the enterprizing. There are many
sequences, or even the same set of conse- men, it should always be recollected, to whom
quences, must be irreconcileably diverse. If the happiness of others gives very little satisthe matter in deliberation, for example, be, faction, and their sufferings very little pain,
whether it is better to live without toil or ex- -and who would rather eat a luxurious meal
ertion, but, at the same time, without wealth by themselves, than scatter plenty and gratior glory, or to venture for both upon a scene tude over twenty famishing cottages.  No
vf labour and hazard-it is easy to see, that enlightening of the understanding will make
the determination which would be wise and such men the instruments of general happi




MADAME DE STAEL HOLSTEIN.                               40
Zless; and wherever there is a competition- powerful interest, those feelings of onnui
wherever the question is stirred as to whose which steal upon every condition from which
claims shall be renounced or asserted, we are hazard and anxiety are excluded, and drive
all suchi men, we fear, in a greater or a less us into danger and suffering as a relief. While
degree. There are others, again, who pre- human nature continues to be distinguished by
sume upon their own good fortune, with a de. those attributes, we do not see any chance of
gree of confidence that no exposition of the wnar being superseded by the increase cf vwis
chances of failure can ever repress; and in dom and morality.
all cases where failure is possible, there must   We should be pretty well advanced in the
be a risk of suffering from its occurrence, career of perfectibility, if all the inhabitants
however prudent the venture might have ap- of Europe were as intelligent, and upright;
peared. These, however, are the chief sources and considerate, as Sir John Moore, or Lord
of all the unhappiness which results from the Nelson, or Lord Collingwood, or Lord Welconduct of man; —and they are sources which lington-but we should not have the less
we do not see that the improved intellect, or war, we take it, with all its attendant miseadded experience of the species, is likely to ries. The more wealth and intelligence, and
close or diminish.                        liberty, there is in a country indeed, the
Take the case, for example, of War —by greater love we fear there will always be for
far the most prolific and extensive pest of the war; —for a gentleman is uniformly a more
human race, whether we consider the suffer- pugnacious animal than a plebeian, and a free
ings it inflicts, or the happiness it prevents-  man than a slave. The case is the same,
and see whether it is likely to be arrested by with the minor contentions that agitate civil
the progress of intelligence and civilization. life, and shed abroad the bitter waters of poIn the first place, it is manifest, that instead litical; animosity, and grow up into the ranof becoming less frequent or destructive, in cours and atrocities of faction and cabal. The
proportion to the rapidity of that progress, leading actors in those scenes are not the
our European wars have, in point of fact, been lowest or most debased characters in the
incomparably more constant, and more san- country-but, almost without exception, of
guinary, since Europe became signally en- the very opposite description. It would be
lightened and humanized-and that they too romantic to suppose, that the whole popuhave uniformly been most obstinate and most lation of any country should ever be raised to
popular, in its most polished countries. The the level of our Fox and Pitt, Burke, Windbrutish Laplanders, and bigoted and profli- ham, or Grattan; and yet if that miraculous
gate Italians, have had long intervals of re- improvement were to take plvee, we know
pose; but France and England are now pretty that they would be at least as far from agreeregularly at war, for about fourscore years out ing, as they are at present; and may fairly
of every century. In the second place, the conclude, that that they would contend with far
lovers and conductors of war are by no means greater warmth and animosity.
the most ferocious or stupid of their species   For that great class of evils, therefore,
-but for the most part the very contrary;-  which arise from contention, emulation, and
and their delight in it, notwithstanding their diversity of opinion upon points which admit
compassion for human suffering, and their of no demonstrative solution, it is evident that
complete knowledge of its tendency to pro- the general increase of intelligence would
duce suffering, seems to us sufficient almost afford no remedy; and there even seems to
of itself to discredit the confident prediction be reason for thinking that it would increase
of those who assure us, that when men have their amount. If we turn to the other great
attained to a certain degree of intelligence, source of human suffering, the abuse of power
war must necessarily cease among all the and wealth, and the other means of enjoynations of the earth. There can be no better ment, we suspect we shall not find any ground
illustration indeed, than this, of the utter fu- for indulging in more sanguine expectations.
tility of all those dreams of perfectibility; Take the common case of youthful excess and
which are founded on a radical ignorance of imprudence, for example in which the evil
what it is that constitutes the real enjoyment commonly rests on the head of the transof human nature, and upon the play of how  gressor-the injury done to fortune, by
nmany principles and opposite stimuli that hap- thoughtless expense-to health and character,
piness depends, which, it is absurdly ima- by sensual indulgence, and to the whole feligined, would be found in the mere negation city of after life, by rash and unsorted marof suffering, or in a state of Quakerish pla- riages. The whole mischief and hazard of
cidity, dulness, and uniformity. Men delight such practices, we are persuaded, is just as
in war, in spite of the pains and miseries thoroughly known and understood at present
which they know it entails upon them  and as it will be when the world is five thousand
their fellows, because it exercises all the years older; and as much pains are now
talents, and calls out all the energies of their taken to impress the ardent spirits of youth
nature-because it holds them out conspicu- with the belief of those hazards, as can well
ously as objects of public sentiment and gene- be taken by the monitors who may discharge
ral sympathy-because it gratifies their pride that office in the most remote futurity. But
of art, and gives them a lofty sentiment of the truth is, that the offenders do not offend
their own power, worth and courage-but so much in ignorance, as in presumption.
principally because it sets the game of exist- They know very well, that men are oftener
ence upon a higher stake, and dispels, by its ruined than enriched at the gaming table;




46                       LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
and that love marriages clapt up under age, I within the reach, nor suited to the taste, of
are frequently followed by divorces: But any very great proportion of the sufferers
they know too, that this is not always the and that the cultivation of waste lands, and
case; and they flatter themselves that their the superintendence of tippling-houses and
good luck, and good judgment, will class them  charity schools, have not always been found
among the exceptions, and not among the such effectual and delightful remedies as the
ordinary examples of the rule. They are told inditers of godly romances have sometimea
well enough, for the most part, of the excess- represented. So that those whom  fortune
ive folly of acting upon such a presumption, has cruelly exempted from the necessity of
in matters of such importance:-But it is the doing any thing, have been led very generally
nature of youth, to despise much of the wis- to do evil of their own accord; and have
dom that is thus pressed upon them; and to fancied that they rather diminished thai
think well of their fortune and sagacity, till added to the sum of human misery, by en.
they have actually had experience of their gaging in intrigues and gaming-clubs, and
slipperiness. We really have no idea that establishing coteries for detraction or sentheir future teachers will be able to change suality
this nature: or to destroy the eternal distinc-   The real and radical difficulty is to find
tion between the character of early and mature some laudable pursuit that will permanently
life; and therefore it is, that we despair of interest-some worthy object that will conthe cure of the manifold evils that spring from  tinue to captivate and engross the faculties:
this source; and remain persuaded, that young and this, instead of becoming easier in promen will be nearly as foolish, and as incapa- portion as our intelligence increases, obvious.
ble of profiting by the experience of their ly becomes more difficult. It i's knowledge
seniors, ten thousand years hence, as they are that destroys enthusiasm, and dispels all those
at this moment.                           prejudices of admiration which people simWith regard to the other glittering curses pler minds with so many idols of enchantof life-the heartless dissipations-the cruel ment. It is knowledge that distracts by its
seductions-the selfish extravagance-the re- variety, and satiates by its abundance, and
jection of all interesting occupation or serious generates, by its communication, that dark
affection, which blast the splendid summit and cold spirit cf fastidiousness and derision
of human fortune with perpetual barrenness which revenges on those whom it possesses,
and discomfort-we can only say, that as the pangs which it inflicts on those on whom
they are miseries which now exist almost it is exerted. Yet it is to the increase of
exclusively among the most polished and in- knowledge and talents alone, that the prophets
telligent of the species, we do not think it of perfectibility look forward for the cure of
very probable, at least. that they will be eradi- all our vices and all our unhappiness!
cated by rendering the species in general   Even as to intellect, and the pleasures that
more polished and intelligent. They are not are to be derived from the exercise of a vigoroccasioned, we think, by ignorance or im- ous understanding, we doubt greatly whether
proper education; but by that eagerness for we ought to look forward to posterity with
strong emotion and engrossing occupation, any very lively feelings of envy or humiliawhich still proclaim it to be the irreversible tion. More knowledge they probably will
destiny of man to earn his bread by the sweat have-as we have undoubtedly more knowof his brows. It is a fact indeed rather per- ledge than our ancestors had two hundred
plexing and humiliating to the advocates of years ago; but for vigour of understanding,
perfectibility, that as soon as a man is de- or pleasure in the exercise of it, we must beg
livered from the necessity of subsisting him- leave to demur. The more there is already
self, and providing for his family, he gene- known, the less there remains to be discoverrally falls into a state of considerable unhap- ed; and the more time a man is obliged to
piness; and if some fortunate anxiety, or spend in ascertaining what his predecessors
necessity for exertion, does not come to his have already established, the less he will
relief, is commonly obliged to seek for a have to bestow in adding to its amount.slight and precarious distraction in vicious The time, however, is of less consequence;
and unsatisfactory pursuits. It is not for but the habits of mind that are formed by
want of knowing that they are unsatisfactory walking patiently, humbly, and passively in
that he persists in them, nor for want of the paths that have been traced by others,
being told of their folly and criminality; —for are the very habits that disqualify us for
moralists and divines have been occupied vigorous and independent excursions of our
with little else for the best part of a century; own. There is a certain degree of knowledge
and writers of all descriptions, indeed, have to be sure, that is but wholesome aliment to
charitably expended a good part of their own the understanding-materials for it to work
ennui in copious directions for the innocent upon-or instruments to facilitate its labours:
and effectual reduction of that common ene- -but a larger quantity is apt to oppress and
my. In spite of all this, however, the malady encumber it; and as industry, which is exhas increased with our wealth and refine- cited by the importation of the raw material,
ment; and has brought along with it the may be superseded and extinguished by the
increase of all those vices and follies in which introduction of the finished manufacture, so
its victims still find themselves constrained the minds which are stimulated to activity
to seek a temporary relief. The truth is, by a certain measure of instruction may,
that military and senatorial glory is neither unquestionably, be reduced to a state of pas



MADAME DE STAEL HOLSTEIN.                                 47
sive and languid acquiescence, by a more cannot fail to be struck with tie prodigious
profuse and redundant supply.              waste of time, and of labour, that is neces.
Madame de Stael, and the other advocates sary for the attainment of a very inconsiderof her system, talk a great deal of the pro- able portion of original knowledge. His prodigious advantage of having the results of the gress is as slow as that of a man who is
laborious discoveries of one generation made making a road, compared with that of those
matters of familiar and elementary know- who afterwards travel over it; and he feels,
ledge in another; and for practical utility, it that in order to make a very small advance
may be so: but nothing, we conceive, can in one department of study, he must consent
be so completely destructive of all intellec- to sacrifice very great attainments in others.
tual enterprise, and all force and originality He is disheartened, too, by the extreme in.
of thinking, as this very process, of the re- significance of any thing that he can expect
duction of knowledge to its results, or the to contribute, when compared with the great
multiplication of those summary and accessi- store that is already in possession of the pubble pieces of information in which the stu- lic; and is extremely apt to conclude, that it
dent is saved the whole trouble of investiga- is not only safer, but more profitable to fol.
tion, and put in possession of the prize, with- low, than to lead; and that it is fortunate for
out either the toils or the excitement of the the lovers of wisdom, that our ancestors have
contest. This, in the first place, necessarily accumulated enough of it for our use, as well
makes the prize much less a subject of ex- as for their own.
ultation or delight to him; for the chief plea-   But while the general diffusion of know
sure is in the chase itself, and not in the ob- ledge tends thus powerfully to repress all
ject which it pursues; and he who sits at original and independent speculation in indi.
home, and has the dead game brought to the viduals, it operates still more powerfully in
side of his chair, will be very apt, we be- rendering the public indifferent and unjust to
lieve, to regard it as nothing better than an their exertions. The treasures they have inunfragrant vermin, But, in the next place, it herited from their predecessors are so ample,
does him no good; for he misses altogether as not only to take away all disposition to
the invigorating exercise, and the invaluable labour for their farther increase, but to lead
training to habits of emulation and sagacity them  to undervalue and overlook any little
and courage; for the sake of which alone the addition that may be made to them by the
pursuit is deserving of applause. And, in voluntary offerings of individuals. The works
te last place, he not only fails in this way of the best models are perpetually before their
to acquire the qualities that may enable him  eyes, and their accumulated glory in their reto run down knowledge for himself, but nec- membrance; the very variety of the sorts of
essarily finds himself without taste or induce- excellence which are constantly obtruded on
ment for such exertions. He thinks, and in their notice, renders excellence itself cheap
one sense he thinks justly, that if the proper and vulgar in their estimation. As the mere
object of study be to acquire knowledge, he possessors or judges of such things, they are
can employ his time much more profitably apt to ascribe to themselves a character of
in implicitly listening to the discoveries of superiority, which renders any moderate perothers, than in a laborious attempt to discover formance unworthy of their regard; and their
something for himself. It is infinitely more cold and languid familiarity with what is best,
fatiguing to think, than to remember; and ultimately produces no other effect than to
incomparably shorter to be led to an object, render them insensible to its beauties, and at
than to explore our own way to it. It is in- the same time intolerant of all that appears to
conceivable what an obstruction this fur- fall short of it.
nishes to the original exercise of the under-   In such a condition of society, it is obvious
standing in a certain state of information; and that men must be peculiarly disinclined from
how effectually the general diffusion of easily indulging in those bold and original speculaaccessible knowledge operates as a bounty tions, for which their whole training had preupon indolence and mental imbecility. — viously disqualified them; and we appeal to
Where the quantity of approved and collected our readers, whether there are not, at this day,
knowledge is already very great in any coun- apparent symptoms of such a condition of sotry, it is naturally required of all well edu- ciety. A childish love of novelty may indeed
cated persons to possess a considerable share give a transient popularity to works of mere
of it; and where it has also been made very amusement; but the age of original genius,
accessible, by being reduced to its summary and of comprehensive and independent rea
and ultimate results, an astonishing variety soning, seems to be over. Instead of such
of those abstracts may be stowed away in works as those of Bacon, and Shakspeare, and
the memory, with scarcely any fatigue or Taylor, and Hooker, we have Encyclopmadias,
exercise to the other faculties. The whole and geographical compilations, and county
mass of attainable intelligence, however, must' histories, and new editions of black letter austill be beyond the reach of any individual; thors —and trashy biographies and posthumous
and he may go on, therefore, to the end of a letters-and disputations upon prosody —and
long and industrious life, constantly acquir- ravings about orthodoxy and methodism. Men
irng knowledge in this cheap and expeditious of general information and curiosity seldom
manner. But if in the course of these pas- think of adding to the knowledge that is
sive and humbie researches, he should be already in the world; and the inferior persons
tempted to inquire a little for himself, he, upon whom that task is consequently devolved,




48                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
carry it on, for the most part, by means of that and more instructed classes of society, —t
minute subdivision of labour which is the whom it is reasonable to suppose that the per.
(reat secret of the mechanical arts, but can fection of wisdom and happiness will come
never be introduced into literature without first, in their progress through the whole race
depriving its higher branches of all force, dig- of men; and we have seen what reason the e.lity, or importance. One man spends his life is to doubt of their near approach.  The
in improving a method of dyeing cotton red; lower orders, however, we think, have still
-another in adding a few insects to a cata- less good fortune to reckon on.  In the whole
Rogue which nobody reads; —a third in settling history of the species, there has been nothing'he metres of a few Greek Chorases; —a at all comparable to the improvement of Engrourth in decyphering illegible romances, or land within the last century; never anywhere
old grants of farms.;-a fifth in picking rotten was there such an increase of wealth and luxbones out of the earth;-a sixth in describing ury-so many admirable inventions in the
all the old walls and hillocks in his parish;- arts —so many works of learning and ingeand five hundred others in occupations equal- nuity —such a progress in cultivation-such
ly liberal and important: each of them being, an enlargement of commerce:-and yet, in
for the most part, profoundly ignorant of every that century, the number of paupers in Engthing out of his own narrow department, and land has increased fourfold, and is now rated
very generally and deservedly despised, by at one tenth of her whole population; and,
his competitors for the favour of that public-  notwithstanding the enormous sums that are
which despises and supports them all.   levied and given privately for their relief, and
Such, however, it appears to us, is the state the multitudes that are drained off by the
of mind that is naturally produced by the waste of war, the peace of the country is pergreat accumulation and general diffusion of petually threatened by the outrages of famvarious sorts of knowledge. Men learn, in- ishing multitudes. This fact of itself is decistead of reasoning. Instead of meditating, sive, we think, as to the effect of general
they remember; and, in place of the glow of refinement and intelligence on the condition
inventive genius, or the warmth of a generous of the lower orders; but it is not difficult to
admiration, nothing is to be met with, in so- trace the steps of its operation.
ciety, but timidity on the one hand, and fas-  Increasing refinement and ingenuity lead
tidiousness on the other —a paltry accuracy, naturally to the establishment of manufacand a more paltry derision-a sensibility to tures; and not only enable society to spare a
small faults, and an incapacity of great merits great proportion of its agricultural labourers
-a disposition to exaggerate the value of for this purpFse, but actually encourage the
knowledge that is not to be used, and to un- breeding of an additional population, to be
derrate the importance of powers which have maintained out of the profits of this new occeased to exist. If these, however are the cupation. For a time, too, this answers; and
consequences of accumulated and diffused the artisan shares in the conveniences to which
knowledge, it may well be questioned whether his labours have contributed to give birth;
the human intellect will gain in point of dig- but it is in the very nature of the manufacnity and energy by the only certain acquisi- turing system, to be liable to great fluctuation,
tions to which we are entitled to look forward. occasional check, and possible destruction;
For our own part, we will confess we have no and at all events, it has a tendency to produce
such expectations. There will be improve- a greater population than it can permanently
ments, we make no doubt, in all the mechani- support in comfort or prosperity. The average
cal and domestic arts;-better methods of rate of wages, for the last forty years, has
working metal, and preparing cloth;-more been insufficient to maintain a labourer with
commodious vehicles, and more efficient im- a tolerably large family;-and yet such have
plements of war. Geography will be made been the occasional fluctuations, and such the
more complete, and astronomy more precise; sanguine calculations of persons incapable of
-natural history will be enlarged and di- taking a comprehensive view of the whole,
gested; —and perhaps some little improve- that the manufacturing population has been
ment suggested in the forms of administering prodigiously increased in the same period. It
law. But as to any general enlargement of is the interest of the manufacturer to keep
the understanding, or more prevailing vigour this population in excess, as the only sure
of judgment, we will own, that the tendency means of keeping wages low; and wherever
seems to be all the other way; and that we the means of subsistence are uncertain, and
think strong sense, and extended views of liable to variation, it seems to be the general
human affairs, are more likely to be found, law of our nature, that the population should
and to be listened to at this moment, than be adapted to the highest, and not to the
two or three hundred years hereafter. The average rate of supply. In India, where a dry
truth is, we suspect, that the vast and endur- season used to produce a failure of the crop,
ing products of the virgin soil can no longer once in every ten or twelve years, the popu
be reared in that factitious mould to which lation was always up to the measure of the
cultivation has since given existence; and that greatest abundance; and in manufacturing
its forced and deciduous progeny will go on countries, the miscalculation is still more sandegenerating, till some new deluge shall re- guine and erroneous. Such countries, therestore the vigour of the glebe by a temporary fore are always overpeopled; and it seems to
destruction of all its generations.      be the necessary effect of increasing talent and
Hitherto we have spoken only of the higher refinement, to convert all countries into this




MADAME DE STAEL HOLSTEIN.                                49
denomination. China, the oldestmanufacturing always be considered as,ne of the least fornation in the world, and by far the greatest that tunate which Providence has assigned to any
ever existed with the use of little machinery. of the human race.
has always suffered from a redundant popula-   There is no end, however, we find, to these
tion, and has always kept the largest part of speculations; and we must here close our reits inhabitants in a state of the greatest poverty. marks on perfectibility, without touching upon
The effect then which is produced on the the Political changes which are likely to be
lower orders of society, by that increase of produced by a long course of progressive reindustry and refinement, and that multiplica- finements and scientific improvement-ithough
tion of conveniences which are commonly we are afraid that an enlightened anticipation
looked upon as the surest tests of increasing would not be much more cheering in this
prosperity, is to convert the peasants into view, than in any of those we have hitherto
manufacturers, and the manufacturers into considered. Luxury and refinement have a
paupers; while the chance of their ever tendency, we fear, to make men sensual and
emerging from this condition becomes con- selfish; and, in that state, increased talent
stantly less, the more complete and mature and intelligence is apt only to render them
the system is which had originally produced more mercenary and servile. Among the
it. When manufactures are long established, prejudices which this kind of philosophy roots
and thoroughly understood, it will always be out, that of patriotism, we fear, is generally
found, that persons possessed of a large capi- among the first to be surmounted;-and then,
tal, can carry them on upon lower profits than a dangerous opposition to power, and a sacripersons of any other description; and the fiee of interest to affection, speedily come to
natural tendency of this system, therefore, is be considered as romantic. Arts are discovto throw the whole business into the hands ered to palliate the encroachments of arbitrary
of great capitalists: and thus not only to render power; and a luxurious, patronizing, and
it next to impossible for a common workman vicious monarchy is firmly established amidst
to advance himself into the condition of a the adulations of a corrupt nation. But we
master, but to drive from the competition the must proceed at last to Madame de Stael's
greater part of those moderate dealers, by History of Literature.
whose prosperity alone the general happiness   Not knowing any thing of the Egyptians
of the nation can be promoted. The state of and Phcenicians, she takes the Greeks for the
the operative manufacturers, therefore. seems first inventors of literature-and  explains
every day more hopelessly stationary: and many of their peculiarities by that supposition.
that great body of the people, it appears to The first development of talent, she says, is
us, is likely to grow into a fixed and degraded in Poetry; and the first poetry consists in the
caste, out of which no person can hope to es- rapturous description of striking objects in nacape, who has once been enrolled among its ture, or of the actions and exploits that are
members. They cannot look up to the rank then thought of the greatest importance.
of master manufacturers; because, without There is little reflection-no nice development
considerable capital, it will every day be more of feeling or character-and no sustained,
impossible to engage in that occupation-and strain of tenderness or moral emotion in this
back they cannot go to the labours of agricul- primitive poetry; which charms almost enture, because there is no demand for their tirely by the freshness and brilliancy of its
services. The improved system of farming, colouring-the spirit and naturalness of its;
furnishes an increased produce with many representations-and the air of freedom and,
fewer hands than were formerly employed in facility with which every thing is executed.
procuringamuch smaller return; and besides This, was the age of Homer. After that
all this. the lower population has actually in- though at a long interval, came the age oft
creased to a far greater amount than ever was Pericles: —When human nature was a little
at any time employed in the cultivation of the more studied and regarded, and poetry re —
ground.                                   ceived accordingly a certain cast of thoughtTo remedy all these evils, which are likely, fulness, and an air of labour-eloquence began
as we conceive, to be aggravated, rather than to be artful, and therights and duties of menrelieved, by the general progress of refinement to be subjects of meditation and inquiry.
and intelligence, we have little to look to but This, therefore, was the era of the tragedians,.
the beneficial effects of this increasing intelli- the orators, and the first ethical philosophers.
gence upon the lower orders themselves -  Last came the age of Alexander, when science
and wve are far from undervaluing this influ- had superseded fancy, and all the talent of
ence. By the universal adoption of a good the country was turned to the pursuits of
system of education habits of foresight and philosophy. This, Madame de Stael thinks
self-control, and rigid economy, may in time is the natural progress of literature in all
no doubt be pretty generally introduced, in- countries; and that of the Greeks is only disstead of the improvidence and profligacy tinguished by their having b'een the first that
which too commonly characterize the larger pursued it, and by the peculiarities of their
assemblages of our manufacturing population; mythology, and their political relations. It is.
and if these lead, as they are likely to do, to not quite clear indeed that they were the first;
the general institution of Friendly Societies but Madame de Sta/l is very eloquent upon,
and banks for savings among the workmen, a that supposition.
great palliative will have tbeen provided for   The state of society, however, in those early:
the disadvantages of a situation, which must times, was certainly s,,ch as to impress ve'yi
4




so                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
strongly on the mind those objects and occur- more commendable: But the Greeks are wonrences which formed the first materials of derfully rational and moderate in all their
poetry. The intercourse with distant coun- works of imagination; and speak; for the most
tries being difficult and dangerous, the legends part, with a degree of justness and brevity,
of the traveller were naturally invested with which is only the more marvellous, when it is
more than the modern allowance of the mar- considered how much religion had to do in the
vellous. The smallness of the civilized states business. A better explanation, perhaps, of
connected every individual in them with its their superiority, may be derived from recolleaders, and made him personally a debtor for lecting that the sins of affectation, and injuthe protection which their prowess afforded dicious effort, really cannot be committed
from the robbers and wild beasts which then where there are no models to be at once coinfested the unsubdued earth. Gratitude and pied and avoided. The first writers naturally
terror, therefore, combined to excite the spirit took possession of what was most striking,
of enthusiasm; and the same ignorance which and most capable of producing effect, in naimputed to the direct agency of the gods, the ture and in incident. Their successors conmore rare and dreadful phenomena of nature, sequently found these occupied; and were
gave a character of supernatural greatness to obliged, for the credit of their originality, to
the reported exploits of their heroes. Philoso- produce something which should be different,
phy, which has led to the exact investigation at least, if not better, than their originals.
of causes, has robbed the world of much of They had not only to adhere to nature, thereits sublimity; and by preventing us from be- fore, but to avoid representing her exactly as
lieving much, and from wondering at any she had been represented by their predecesthing, has taken away half our enthusiasm, sors; and when they could not accomplish
and more than half our admiration.        both these objects, they contrived, at least, to
The purity of taste which characterizes the make sure of the last. The early Greeks had
very earliest poetry of the Greeks, seems to us but one task to perform: they were in no
more difficult to be accounted for. Madame danger of comparisons, or imputations of plade Stael ascribes it chiefly to the influence giarism; and wrote down whatever struck
of their copious mythology; and the eternal them as just and impressive, without fear of
presence of those Gods-which, though al- finding that they had been stealing from a
ways about men, were always above them, predecessor. The wide world, in short. was
and gave a tone of dignity or elegance to the before them, unappropriated and unmarked
whole scheme of their existence. Their tra- by any preceding footstep; and they took their
gedies were acted in temples-in the sup- way without hesitation, by the most airy
posed presence of the Gods, the fate of whose heights and sunny valleys; while those who
descendants they commemorated, and as a came after, found it so seamed and crossed
part of the religious solemnities instituted in with tracks in which they were forbidden to
their honour. Their legends, in like manner tread, that they were frequently driven to
related to the progeny of the immortals: and make the most fantastic circuits and abrupt
their feasts —their dwellings-their farming-  descents to avoid them.
their battles-and every incident and occupa-   The characteristic defects of the early
tion of their daily life being under the imme- Greek poetry are all to be traced to the same
diate sanction of some presiding deity, it was general causes,-the peculiar state of society,
scarcely possible to speak of them in a vulgar and that newness to which they were indebtor inelegant manner; and the nobleness of ed for its principal beauties. They describe
their style therefore appeared to result natu- every thing, because nothing had been prerally from the elegance of their mythology.  viously described; and incumber their whole
Now, even if we could pass over the ob- diction with epithets that convey no informavious objection, that this mythology was itself tion. There is no reach of thought, or finea creature of the same poetical imagination ness of sensibility, because reflection had not
~which it is here supposed to. have modified, yet awakened the deeper sympathies of their
it is impossible not to observe that though nature; and we are perpetually shocked with
rthe circumstances now alluded to may ac- the imperfections of their morality, and the
-count for the raised and lofty tone of the Gre- indelicacy of their affections, because society
e~cian poetry, and for the exclusion of low or had not subsisted long enough in peace and;familiar life from their dramatic representa- security to develop those finer sources of
tions, it will not explain the far more substan- emotion. These defects are most conspicuous
tial indications of pure taste afforded by the in every thing that relates to women. They
4absence of all that gross exaggeration, violent had absolutely no idea of that mixture of
incongruity, and tedious and childish extrava- friendship, veneration, and desire, which is
igance which are found to deform the primi- indicated by the word Love, in the modern
tive poetry of most other nations. The Hin- languages of Europe. The love of the Greek,dods, for example, have a mythology at least tragedians, is a species of insanity or frenzy,-:.as copious, and still more closely interwoven a blind and ungovernable impulse inflicted by;with every action of their lives: But their le- the Gods in their vengeance and leading its:gends are the very models of bad taste; and humiliated victim to the commission of all,unite all the detestable attributes of obscurity, sorts of enormities. Racine, in his Phadre,
puerility, insufferable tediousness, and the has ventured'to exhibit a love of this descriprnost revolting and abominable absurdity. tion on a mod'rn stage; but the softenings of,The poetry of the northern bards is not much delicate feeling —the tenderness and profound




MADAME DE STAEL HOLSTEIN.                               51
affliction which he has been forced to add to I the Chorus;-but the heroes themselves act
the fatal impulse of the original character, always by the order of the Gods. Accordshow, more strongly than any thing else, the ingly, the authors of the most atrocious actions
radical difference between the ancient and are seldom represented in the Greek tragedies
the modern conception of the passion.     as properly guilty, but only as piacular; —and
The Political institutions of Greece had also their general moral is rather, that the Gods
a remarkable effect on their literature; and are omnipotent, than that crimes should give
nothing can show this so strongly as the strik- rise to punishment and detestation.
ing contrast between Athens and Sparta-   A great part of the effect of these represenplaced under the same sky-with the same tations must have depended on the exclusive
language and religion-and yet so opposite in nationality of their subjects, and the extreme
their government and in their literary pur- nationality of their auditors; though it is a
suits. The ruling passion of the Athenians striking remark of Madame de Sta1l, that the
was that of amusement; for, though the Greeks, after all, were more national than reemulation of glory was more lively among publicani,-and were never actuated with that
them than among any other people, it was still profound hatred and scorn of tyranny which
subordinate to their rapturous admiration of afterwards exalted the Roman character. A1successful talent. Their law of ostracism is most all their tragic subjects, accordingly, are
a proof, how much they were afraid of their taken from the misfortunes of kings;-of kings
own propensity to idolize. They could not descended from the Gods, and upon whose
trust themselves in the presence of one who genealogy the nation still continued to pride
had become too popular.  This propensity itself. The fate of the Tarquins could never
also has had a sensible effect upon their have been regarded at Rome as a worthy ocpoetry; and it should never be forgotten, that casion either of pity or horror. Republican
it was not composed to be read and studied sentiments are occasionally introduced into
and criticized in the solitude of the closet, the Greek Choruses; —though we cannot agree
like the works that have been produced since with Madame de Stal in considering these muthe invention of printing; but to be recited to sical bodies as intended to represent the people.
music, before multitudes assembled at feasts  It is in their comedy, that the defects of the
and high solemnities, where every thing fa- Greek literature are most conspicuous. The
voured the kindling and diffusion of that en- world was then too young to supply its matethusiasm, of which the history now seems to rials. Society had not existed long enough,
us so incredible.                         either to develop the finer shades of character
There is a separate chapter on the Greek in real life, or to generate the talent of obdrama-which is full of brilliant and original serving, generalizing, and representing them.
observations;-though we have already antic- The national genius, and the form of governipated the substance of many of them. The ment, led them to delight in detraction and
great basis of its peculiarity, was the constant popular abuse; for though they admired and
interposition of the Gods.  Almost all the applauded their great men, they had not in
violent passions are represented as the irre- their hearts any great respect for them; and
sistible inspirations of a superior power --  the degradation or seclusion in which they
almost all their extraordinary actions as the kept their women, took away almost all intefulfilment of an oracle-the accomplishment rest or elegance from the intercourse of private
of an unrelenting destiny.  This probably life, and reduced its scenes of gaiety to those
added to the awfulness and terror of the rep- of coarse debauch, or broad and humourous deresentation, in an audience which believed rision. The extreme coarseness and vulgar'ly
implicitly in the reality of those dispensations. of Aristophanes, is apt to excite our wonder,
But it has impaired their dramatic excellence, when we first consider him as the contempoby dispensing them too much from the ne- rary of Euripides, and Socrates, and Plato;cessity of preparing their catastrophes by a but the truth is. that the Athenians. after all,
gradation of natural events —the exact de- were but an ordinary populace as to moral
lineation of character,-and the touching rep- delicacy and social refinement. Enthusiasm,
resentation of those preparatory struggles and especially the enthusiasm of superstition
which precede a resolution of horror. Orestes and nationality, is as much a passion of the
kills his mother, and Electra encourages him  vulgar, as a delight in ribaldry and low bufto the deed,-without the least indication, in foonery.  The one was gratified by their
either, of that poignant remorse which after- tragedy;-and the comedy of Aristophanes
wards avenges the parricide. No modern was exactly calculated to give delight to the
dramatist could possibly have omitted so im- other. In the end, however, their love of
portant and natural a part of the exhibition;-  buffoonery and detraction unfortunately proved
but the explanation of it is found at once in too strong for their nationality. When Philip
the ruling superstition of the age. Apollo had was at their gates. all the eloquence of Demoscommanded the murder —and Orestes could thenes could not rouse them from their thenot hesitate to obey. When it is committed, atrical dissipations. The great danger which
the Furies are commissioned to pursue him; they always apprehended to their liberties,
and the audience shudders with reverential was from the excessive power and popularity
awe at the torments they inflict on their victim. of one of their own great men; and, by a
Human sentiments, and human motives, have singular fatality, they perished, from a proflibut little to do in bringing about these catas- gate indifference and insensibility to the
%reophes. They are sometimes suggested by charms of patriotism and greatness.




LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
In philosophy, Madame de Stail does not of letters with philosophy; and the cause of
rank the Greeks very high. The greater part this peculiarity is very characteristic of the
of them  indeed, were orators and poets, nation. They had subsisted longer, and efrather than profound thinkers, or exact in- fected more, without literature~ than any other
quirers. They discoursed rhetorically upon people on record. They had become a great
vague and abstract ideas; and, up to the time state, wisely constituted and' skilfully adminof Aristotle, proceeded upon the radical error istered, long before any one of their citizens
of substituting hypothesis for observation. had ever appeared as. an author. The love
That eminent person first showed the use and of their country was the passion of each indi.
the necessity of analysis; and did'infinitely vidual-the greatness of the Roman name the
more for posterity than all the mystics that object of their pride and enthusiasm. Studies
went before him. As their states were small, which hadl no reference to political objects,
and their domestic life inelegant, men seem  therefore, could find no favour in their eyes,
to have been considered almost exclusively and it was from their subserviency to populai
in their relations to the public. There is, and senatorial oratory, and the aid which they
accordingly, a noble air of patriotism and de- promised to afford in the management of facvotedness to the common weal in all the mo- tions and national concerns, that they were
rality of the ancients; and though Socrates first led to listen to the lessons of the Greek
set the example of fixing the principles of' philosophers. Nothing else could have invirtue for private life, the ethics of Plato, and duced Cato to enter upon such a study at such
Xenophon, and Zeno, and most of the other an advanced period of life. Though the Rophilosophers, are little else than treatises of mans borrowed their philosophy from  the
political duties. In modern times, from the Greeks, however, they made much more use
prevalence of monarchical government, and of it than their masters. They carried into
the great extent of societies, men are very their practice much of what the others congenerally loosened from their relations with tented themselves with setting down in their
the public, and are but too much engrossed books; and thus came to attain much more
with their private interests and affections. precise notions of practical duty, than could
This may be venial, when they merely forget ever be invented by mere discoursers. The
the state, —by which they are forgotten; but philosophical writings of Cicero, though init is base and fatal, when they are guided by cumbered with the subtleties of his Athenthose interests in the few public functions they ian preceptors, contain a much more complete
have still to perform. After all, the morality code of morality than is to be found in all the
of the Greeks was very clumsy and imperfect. volumes of the Greeks-though it may be
In political science, the variety of their govern- doubted, whether his political information and.ments, and the perpetual play of war and nego- acuteness can be compared with that of Aristiation, had made them more expert. Their totle. It was the philosophy of the Stoics,
historians narrate with spirit and simplicity; however, that gained the hearts of the Ro.
and this is their merit. They make scarcely mans; for it was that which fell in with theii
any reflections; and are marvellously indiffer- national habits and dispositions.
ent as to vice or virtue. They record the most   The same character and the same national
atrocious and most heroic actions-the most institutions that led them to adopt the Greek
disgusting crimes and most exemplary gener- philosophy instead of their poetry, restrained
osity-with the same tranquil accuracy with them from the imitation of their theatrical
which they would describe the succession of excesses.  As their free government was
storms and sunshine. Thucydides is some- strictly aristocratical, it could never permit
what of a higher pitch; but the immense dif- its legitimate chiefs to be held up to mockery
ference between him  and* Tacitus proves, on the stage, as the democratical licence of
better perhaps than any general reasoning, the the Athenians held up the pretenders to theii
progress which had been made in the interim  favour. But, independently of this, the severer
m the powers of reflection and observation; dignity of the Roman character, and the deeper
and how near the Greeks, with all their respect and prouder affection they entertained
boasted attainments, should be placed to the for all that exalted the glory of their country,
intellectual infancy of the species. In all would at all events have interdicted such intheir productions, indeed, the fewness of their decorous and humiliating exhibitions. The
ideas is remarkable; and their most impres- comedy of Aristophanes never could have
sive writings may be compared to the music been tolerated at Rome; and though Plautus
of certain rude nations, which produces the and Terence were allowed to imitate, or rather
most astonishing effects by the combination to translate, the more inoffensive dramas of a
of not more than four or five simple notes.   later age, it is remarkable, that they seldom
Madame de Sta.l now proceeds to the Ro- ventured to subject even to that mitigated
mans-who will not detain us by any means and more general ridicule any one invested
so long.  Their literature was confessedly with the dignity of a Roman citizen. The man.
borrowed from that of Greece; for little is ners represented are almost entirely Greek
ever invented, where borrowing will serve the manners; and the ridiculous parts are almost
purpose: But it was marked with several dis- without any exception assigned to foreigners,
tincqtons, to which alone it is now necessary and to persons of a servile condition. Women
to attend; In the first place-and this is very were, from the beginning, of more account in
remarkable-the Romans, contrary to the the estimation of the Romans than of. the
custom of all other nations, began their career Greeks-though their province was still strict.




MADAME DE STAEL HOLSTEIN.                              53
by domestic, and did not extend to what, in repressed in a good degree by the remains of
modern tunes, is denominated society. With their national austerity, there is also a great
all the severity of their character, the Romans deal more tenderness of affection. In spite
nad much more real tenderness than the of the pathos of some scenes in Euripides,
Greeks,-though they repressed its external and the melancholy passion of some fragindications, as among those marks of weak- ments of Simonides and Sappho, there is no
ness which were unbecoming men intrusted thing at all like the fourth book of Virgil, the
with the interests and the honour of their Alcmene, and Baucis and Philemon of Ovid,
country.  Madame de Stael has drawn a and some of the elegies of Tibulliis. in the
pretty picture of the parting of Brutus and whole range of Greek literature. The memory
Portia.; and contrasted it, as a specimen of of their departed freedom, too, conspired to
national character, with the Grecian group of give an air of sadness to much of the Roman
Pericles pleading for Aspasia. The general poetry, and their feeling of the lateness of the
observation, we are. persuaded, is just; but age in which they were born. The Greeks
the examples are not quite fairly chosen. thought only of the present and the future;
Brutus is a little too good for an average of but the Romans had begun already to live in
Roman virtue. If she had chosen Mark An- the past, and to make pensive reflections on
tony, or Lepidus, the contrast would have the faded glory of mankind. The historians
been less brilliant. The self-control which of this classic age, though they have more of
their principles required of them-the law  a moral character than those of Greece, are still
which they had imposed on themselves, to but superficial teachers of wisdom.: Their
have no indulgence for suffering in them- narration is more animated, and more pleasselves or in others, excluded tragedy from  ingly dramatised, by the orations with which
the range of their literature. Pity was never it is interspersed;-but they have neither the
to be recognized by a Roman, but when it profound reflection of Tacitus, nor the power
came in the shape of a noble clemency to a of explaining great events by general causes,
vanquished foe; —and wailings and complaints which distinguishes the writers of moderl
were never to disgust the ears of men, who times.
knew how to act and to suffer in tranquillity.   The atrocious tyranny that darkened the
The very frequency of suicide in Rome, be- earlier ages of the empire, gave rise to the
longed to this characteristic. There was no third school of Roman literature. The sufferother alternative, but to endure firmly, or to ings to which men were subjected, turned
die; —nor were importunate lamentations to their thoughts inward on their own hearts;
be endured from one who was free to quit and that philosophy which had first been
life whenever he could not bear it without courted as the handmaid of a generous ambimurmuring.                               tion, was now sought as a shelter and conWhat has been said relates to the literature solation in misery. The maxims of the Stoics
of republican Rome. The usurpation of Au- were again revived,-not, indeed, to stimulate
gustus gave a new character to her genius; to noble exertion, but to harden against misand brought it back to those poetical studies fortune. Their lofty lessons of virtue were
with which most other nations have begun. again repeated-but with a bitter accent of
The cause of this, too, is obvious. While despair and reproach; and that indulgence, or
liberty survived, the study of philosophy and indifference towards vice. which had characoratory and history was but as an instrument terised the first philosophers, was now conin the hands of a liberal and patriotic ambi- verted, by the terrible experience of its evils,
tion, and naturally attracted the attention of into vehement and gloomy invective. Seneca,
all whose talents entitled them to aspire to Tacitus, Epictetus, all fall under this descripthe first dignities of the state. After an ab- tion; and the same spirit is discernible  in
solute government  was established) those Juvenal and Lucan. Much more profound
high prizes were taken out of the lottery of views of human nature, and a far greater molife; and the primitive uses of those noble ral sensibility characterise this age, — and show
instruments expired. There was no longer that even the unspeakable degradation to
any safe or worthy end to be gained, by in- which the abuse of power had then sunk the
fluencing the conduct, or fixing the principles mistress of the world, could not arrest altoof men. But it was still permitted to seek gether that intellectual progress which gathers
their applause by ministering to their delight; its treasures from all the varieties of human
and talent and ambition, when excluded from  fortune. Quintilian and the two Plinys afford
the nobler career of political activity, naturally further evidence of this progress; —for they
sought for a humbler harvest of glory in the are, in point of thought and accuracy, and
cultivation of poetry, and the arts of imagina- profound sense, conspicuously superior to any
tion. The poetry of the Romans, however, writers upon similar subjects in the days o
derived this advantage from the lateness of Augustus. Poetry and the fine arts langulsh[ts origin, that it was enriched by all that ed, indeed, under the rigours of this blasting
knowledge of the human heart, and those despotism; —and it is honourable, on the
habits of reflection, which had been generated whole, to the memory of their former greatby the previous study of philosophy. There is ness, that so few Roman poets should have
uniformly more thought, therefore and more sullied their pens by any traces of adulation
development, both of reason and of moral towards the monsters who then sat in the
feeling, in the poets of the Augustan age, than place of power.
in any of their Greek predecessors; and though   We pass over lMadame de Stail'a view of




54                          LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
the middle ages, and of the manner in which  la fin de l'existence, et laisser voir encore le mnmne
the mixture of the northern and southern races tableau sous le crepe funebre du temps.
ameliorated the intellect and the morality of    "Une sensibilite reveuse et profonde est un des
both.  One great cause of their mutual im-plus grands charmes de quelques ouvrages moboth. One great cause of their mutual im- dernes; et ce sont les femmes qui, ne connoissant
provement, howeverj she truly states to have  de la vie que la faculte d'aimer, ont fait passer la
been the general prevalence of Christianity; douceur de leurs impressions dans le style de quelwhich, by the abolition of domestic slavery, ques ecrivains.  En lisant les livres composes deremoved the chief cause, both of the corrup- puis la renaissance des lettres, l'on pourroit martion and the ferocity of ancient manners.  By  quer a chaque page, qu'elles sont le ides q'o
investing the conjugal union, too, with a sacred  n'avoit pas, avant qu'on efit accorde aux femmes
une sorte d'e'galit6 civile. La g6ndrosit6, la valeur,
character of equality, it at once redressed the  l'humanit6, ont pris a quelques 6gards une accep.
long injustice to which the female sex had  tion diff6rente.  Toutes les vertus des anciens
been subjected, and blessed and gladdened  6toient fondees sur l'amour de la patrie; les femmes
private life with a new progeny of joys, and a  exercent leurs qualit6s d'une maniere independante.
new fund of knowledge of the most interest- La piti6 pour la foiblesse, la sympathie pour le malnew fund of knowledge of theur une 6l6vation d'ame, sans autre but que la
ing description.  Upon a subject of this kind, jouissance meme de cette elevation, sont beaucoup
We naturally expect a woman to express her- plus dans leur nature que lesvertus politiques. Les
Belf with peculiar animation; and Madame  modernes, influences par les femmes, ount facile.
de Stael has done it ample justice in the fol- ment c6de aux liens de la philanthropie; et l'esprit
lowing, and in other passages.                   est devenue plus philosophiquement libre, en se
livrant moins a l'empire des associations exclusives."' C'est done alors que les femmes commencerent -pp. 212-215.
a etre de moitie dans l'association humaine. C'est
alors aussi que l'on connut veritablement le bonheur    It is principally to this cause that she
domestique. Trop de puissance d6prave la boniS,  ascribes the improved morality of modern
alt*ere toutes les jouissances de la ddlicatesse; les times.  The improvement of their intellect
vertus et les sentimens ne peuvent resister d'une she refers more generally to the accurnulapart a l'exercice du pouvoir, de l'atre a l'habitude tion of knowledge, and  the experience of
de la crainte. La f6licitd de l'homme s'accrut de which they have had the benefit. Instead
toute l'independance qu'obtint l'objet de sa ten- which               ad  the benefit.  Instead
dresse; il put se croire aim6; un gtre libre le of the eager spirit of emulation and the unchoisit; un ctre libre obeit a ses desirs. Les ap- weighed and rash enthusiasm which kindled
pergus de l'esprit; les nuances senties par le cccur the genius of antiquity into a sort of youthful
se multiplie'rent avec les id6ees et les impressions de or instinctive animations we have a spirit of
ces ames nouvelles, qui s'essayoient a l'xi      deep reflection  and  a feeling of mingled
morale, apr's avoir long-temps langui dans la vie.      econ
Les femmes n'ont point compose d'ouvrages veritmelancholy and philanthropy, inspired by a
ablement superieurs; mais elles n'en ont pas moins more intimate knowledge of the sufferings,
eminemment servi les progres de la litterature, the affections, and the frailties of human
par la foule de pensees qu'ont inspir6es aux hommes nature.  There is a certain touching and pales relations entretenues avec ces etres mobiles et thetic tone, therefore, diffused over almost
delicats. Tous les rapports se sont doubl6s, pour all modern writings of the higher order; and
ainsi dire, depuis que les objets ont 6te considres in the art of   itati           and
sous un point de vue tout-a-fait nouveau. La con- in the art of agitating  the soul, and  moving
fiance d'un lien intime en a plus appris sur la nature  the gentler affections of the heart, there is
morale, que tous les trait6s et tous les systemes qui nothing in all antiquity that can be considered
peignoient i'homme tel qu'il se montre a l'homme, as belonging to the same class with the wri.
et non tel qu'il est reellement." —pp. 197, 198.    tings of Bossuet or Rousseau-many passages
" Les femmes out d6couvert dans les caracteros in the English poets-and  some few in those
une foule de nuances, que le besoin de dominer ou f Germany   The sciences of c se
la crainte d'etre asservies leur a fait appercevoir: of Germany.  The sciences of course, have
elles ont fourni au talent dramatique de nouveaux made prodigious advances; for in these noth.
secrets pour 6mouvoir.  Tous les sentimens aux- ing once gained can be lost, —and the mere
quels il leur est permis de se livrer, la crainte de la elapse of ages supposes a vast accumulation.
mort, le regret de la vie, le d6vouement sans In morals, the progress has been greatest in
bornes, l'indignation sans mesure, enrichissent laes     has e   rea  
litterature d'expressions nouvelles.  De-la vient the private virtues-in the sacred regard for
que les moralistes modernes ont en g6neral beau- life-in compassion, sympathy, and beneficoup plus de finesse et de sagacite dans la connois- cence.  Nothing, indeed. can illustrate the
sance des hommes, que les moralistes de l'antiquite. difference of the two systems more strikingly,
Quiconque, chez les anciens, ne pouvoit atteindre a than the opposite views they take of the rela renommee, n'avoit aucun motif de developpe- lation of parent and child.  Filial obedience
ment. Depuis qu'on est deux dans la vie domes- and submisson was enjoined by the ancient
tique, les communications de l'esprit et l'exercice  and submission was enjoined by the ancient
de la morale existent toujours, au moins dans un  code with a rigour from  which reason and
petit cercle; les enfans sont devenus plus chers a  justice equally revolt.  According to our preleur parens, par la tendresse r6ciproque qui forme le sent notions, parental love is a duty of at least
lien conjugal; et toutes les affections ont pris l'em.- mutual obligation; and as nature has placed
reinte de cette divine alliance de l'amour et de the power of showing kindness almost exclu-'amitie, de l'estime et de l'attrait, de la confiance
merit6e et de la seduction involontaire.         sively in the hands of the father, it seems
" Un age aride, que la gloire et la vertu pouvoient but reasonable that the exercise of it should
honorer, mais qui ne devoit plus 8tre ranime par at last be enjoined as a duty.
les emotions du cour, la vieillesse s'est enrichie de    Madame de Stail begins her review of
toutes les pens es de la melancolie; il lui a ete modem  literature with that of Italy.  It was
donne de se ressouvenir, de regretter, d'aimer en- there that the manuscripts-the monuments
core ce qu'elle avoit aime. Les affections morales,
unies, d's la jeunesse, aux passions brilantes, — the works of art of the imperial nation,
peuvent se prolonger par de nobles traces jusqu'a were lost; —and it was there, of course, that




MADAME DE STALL HOLSTEIN.                                     5t
they were ultimately recovered.  The re- ried form  than those of the northein rorr ansearches necessary for this, required authority  cers.  The two styles however were brought
and money; and they were begun, accord- together, partly by the effect of the crusades,
ingly,.:nder the patronage of princes and and  partly by the Moorish  settlement in
academies:-circumstances favourable to the Spain; and Ariosto had the merit of first
accumulation of knowledge, and the forma- combining them  into one, in that miraculous
tion of mere scholars-but adverse to the poem, which contains more painting, more
development of original genius. The Italians, variety, and more imagination, than any other
accordingly, have been scholars, and have poem  in existence.  The fictions of Boyardo
furnished the rest of Europe with the im- are more purely in the taste of the Orientals;
plements of liberal study; but they have and Tasso is imbued far more deeply with the
achieved little for themselves in the high  spirit and manner of the Augustan classics.
philosophy of politics and morals-though    The false refinements, the concetti, the inthey have to boast of Galileo, Cassini, and a genious turns and misplaced subtlety, which
long list of celebrated names in the physical have so long been the reproach of the Italian
sciences.  In treating of subjects of a large literature, Madame de Stahl ascribes to their
and commanding interest, they are almost early study of the Greek Theologians, and
always bombastic and shallow.  Nothing, in- later Platonists, who were so much in favour
deed, can be more just or acute than the at the first revival of learning.  The nice
following delineation of this part of their distinctions and sparkling sophistries which
character.                                    these gentlemen applied, with considerable
"Les Italiens, accoutumes souvent a ne rien success, in argument, were unluckily transcroire et a tout professer, se sont bien plus exercis ferred, by Petrarch, to subjects of love and
dans la plaisanterie que dans le raisonnement. Its se gallantry; and the fashion was set of a most
moquent de leur propre manidre d'etre. Quand its unnatural alliance between wit and passionveulent renoncer a leur talent naturel, a l'esprit ingenuity and profound emotion —which has
comique, pour essayer de l'6loquence oratoire, ils turned out, as miht have been expected, to
ont presque toujours de laffectation. Les souvenirss mht have been expected
d'une grandeur passee, sans aucun sentiment de the discredit of both the contracting parties.
grandeur prdsente, produisent le gigantesque. Les  We admit the fact, and its consequences: but
Italiens auroient de la dignite, si la ptus sombre we do not agree as to the causes which are
tristesse formoit leur caractere; mais quand les here supposed to have produced it. We really
successeurs des Romains, prives de tout Eclat na- do not think that the polemics of Constantitional, de toute libert6 politique, sont encore un des nople are answerable for this extravagane;
peuples les plus gais de la terre, ils ne peuventopl e          a nswer able for this extravagance;
avoir aucun leivation naturelle.              and have little doubt that it originated in that' Les Italiens se moquent dans leur contes, et desire to impress upon their productions the
souvent meme sur le thdatre, des pretres, auxquels visible marks of labour and art, which is felt
ils sont d'ailleurs entierement asservis. Mais ce by almost all artists in the infancy of the
n'est point sous un point de vue philosophique qu'ils 
attaquent les abus de la religion. Ils n'ont pas, stuy.  As all men can speak, and set words
cornme quelques-unsde nos crivains, le but de r6- together in a natural order, it was likely to
former les ddfauts dont its plaisantent; cc qu'ils occur to those who first made an art of comnveulent seulement, c'est s'amuser d'autant plus position, and challenged general admiration
que le sujet est plus sirieux. Leurs opinions sont, for an arrangement of words, that it was
dans le fond, assez opposees a tous les genres necessary to make a very strong and cond'autoritd auxquels its sont soumis; mais cet esprit spicuous distinction between ther composid'opposition n'a de force que ce qu'il faut pour
pouvoir mepriser ceux qui les commandent. C'est tions and ordinary and casual discourse; and
la ruse des enfans envers leurs pedagogues; ils leur to proclaim  to the most careless reader or
obeissent, a condition qu'il leur soit permis de s'en hearer, that a great difficulty had been surmoquer."-p. 248.                              mounted, and something effected which every
In poetry, however, the brilliant imagina- one was not in a condition to accomplish.
tion of the South was sure to re-assert its This feeling, we have no doubt, first gave
claims to admiration; and  the first great occasion to versification in all languages; and
poets of modern Italy had the advantage of will serve to account, in a good degree, for
opening up a new  career for their talents. the priority of metrical to prose compositions:
Poetical fiction, as it is now known in Europe, but where versification was remarkably easy
seems to have had two distinct sources. or already familiar, some visible badge of
Among the fierce and illiterate nations of artifice would also be required in the thought;
the North, nothing had any chance of being and, accordingly, there seems to have been a
listened to, that did not relate to the feats of certain stage in the progress of almost all
war in which it was their sole ambition to literature, in which this excess has been comrnexcel; and poetical invention was forced to mitted.  In Italy, it occurred so early as the
display itself in those legends of chivalry, time of Petrarch.  In France, it became conwhich contain merely an exaggerated picture spicuous in the writings of Voiture, Balsac,
of scenes that were familiar to all their audi. and all that coterie; and in England, in Cowtors. In Asia, again, the terrors of a san- ley, Donne, and the whole tribe of metaguinary despotism had driven men to express physical poets.  Simplicity, in short, is the
their emotions, and to insinuate their moral last attainment of progressive literature; and
admonitions, in the form  of apologues and men are very long afraid of being natural,
fables; and as these necessarily took a very  from  the dread of being taken for ordinary.
wild and improbable course, their fictions There is a simplicity, indeed, that is antece
assumed a much more extravagant and va- dent to the existence of anything like literar)




56                       SLITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
ambition or critical taste in a nation, —the sim-' right in saying, that there is a radical differ.
plicity of the primitive ballads and legends ence in the taste and genius of the two re.
of all rude nations; but after a certain degree gions; and that there is more melancholy
of taste has been created, and composition more tenderness, more deep feeling and fixed
has become an object of pretty general atten- and lofty passion, engendered among the
tion, simplicity is sure to be despised for a clouds and mountains of the North, than upon
considerable period; and indeed, to be pretty  the summer seas or beneath the perfumed
uniformly violated in practice, even after it is groves of the South. The causes of the difrestored to nominal honour and veneration.   ference are not perhaps so satisfactorily staWe do not, however, agree the less cordial- ted.  Madame de Stail gives the first place
ly with Madame de Stael in her remarks upon  to the climate.
the irreparable injury which affectation does   Another characteristic is the hereditary
to taste and to character.  The following is independence of the northern tribes-arising
marked with all her spirit and sagacity.     partly from their scattered population and in" L'affectation est de tous les defauts des cara- accessible retreats, and partly from the physiteres et des ecrits, celui qui tarit de la maniiere la cal force and hardihood which their way of
plus irreparable la source de tout bien; car elle life, and the exertions requisite to procure
blase sur la verite meme, dont elle imite l'accent. subsistence in those regions, necessarily proDans quelque genre que ce soit, tous les mots qui duced. Their religious creed, too, even beont servi a des idees fausses, a de froides exagera- fore their conversion to Christianity, was less
tions, sont pendant long-temps frapp6s d'aridit        and more capable of leading t
et telle langue mgme peut perdre entierement la
puissance d'emouvoir sur tel sujet, si elle a &te trop heroic emotions than that of the southern
souvent prodigu6e a ce sujet meme. Ainsi peut-6tre nations. The respect and tenderness with
l'Italien est-il de toutes les langues de l'Europe la which they always regarded their women, is
moins propre a l'eloquence passionnee de l'amour, another cause (or effect) of the peculiarity of
qnc  e domme la ntre est matenant s24 e pour 1'lo-  their national character; and, in later times,
quence de a libert"-pp  241, 242.  their general adoption of the Protestant faith
Their superstition and tyranny-their in- has tended to confirm  that character.  For
quisition and arbitrary governments have ar- our own part, we are inclined to ascribe more
rested the progress of the Italians-as they  weight to the last circumstance, than to all
have in a great degree prevented that of the the others that have been mentioned; and
Spaniards in the career of letters and philoso- that -not merely from  the better education
phy.  But for this, the Spanish genius would  which it is the genius of Protestantism  to
probably have gone far.  Their early roman- bestow on the lower orders, but from the necces show a grandeur of conception, and a gen- essary effect of the universal study of the
uine enthusiasm; and their dramas, though  Scriptures which it enjoins.  A very great
irregular, are fiull of spirit and invention. proportion of the Protestant population of
Though bombastic and unnatural in most of Europe is familiarly acquainted with the Bitheir serious compositions, their extravagance ble; and there are many who are acquainted
is not so cold and artificial as that of the Ital- with scarcely any other book.  Now, the
ians; but seems rather to proceed from  a Bible is not only full of lessons of patience
natural exaggeration of the fancy, and an in- and humility and compassion. but abounds
considerate straining  after a' magnificence with a gloomy and awful poetry, which canwhich they had not skill or patience to attain. not fail to make a powerful impression on
We come now to the literature of the North, minds that are not exposed to any other. and
-by which name Madame de Sta0l  desig- receive this under the persuasion of its divine
nates the literature of England and Germany, origin.  The peculiar character, therefore,
and on which she passes an encomium which  which Madame de Stahl has ascribed to the
we scarcely expected from a native of the people of the North in general, will now be
South.  She startles us a little, indeed, when found, we believe, to belong only to such of
she sets off with a dashing parallel between  them as profess the reformed religion; and
Homer and Ossian; and proceeds to say, that to be discernible in all the communities that
the peculiar character of the northern litera- maintain that profession, without much reture has all been derived from that Patriarch gard to the degree of latitude which they inof the Celts, in the same way as that of the habit-though at the same time it is undesouth of Europe may be ultimately traced  niable, that its general adoption in the North
back to the genius of Homer. It is certainly must be explained by some of the more generather against this hypothesis, that the said ral causes which we have shortly indicated
Ossian has only been known to the readers above.
and writers of the North for about forty years   The great fault which the French impute
from the present day, and has not been held  to the writers of the North, is want of taste
in especial reverence by those who have most and politeness.  They generally admit that
distinguished themselves in that short period. they have genius; but contend that they do
However, we shall suppose that Madame de not know how to use it; while their partisans
Stael means only, that the style of Ossian re- maintain, that what is called want of taste is
unites the peculiarities that distinguish the merely excess of genius, and independence
northern school of letters. and may be sup- of pedantic rules and authorities. Madame
posed to exhibit them  such as they were de Sta0l, though admitting the transcendent
before the introduction of the classical and merits of some of the English writers, takes
southern models. We rather think she is part, upon the whole, against them  in tbhs




MADAME DE STAEL HOLSTEIN.                               57
eontroveiy; and after professingherunquali- is that which enables him to receive the
fled preference of a piece compounded of great greatest quantity of pleasure from the greatest
blemishes and great beauties, compared with number of things. With regard to the author
one free of faults, but distinguished by little again, or artist of any other description, who
excellence, proceeds very wisely to remark, pretends to bestow the pleasure, his object of
that it would be still better if the great faults course should be, to give as much, and to as
were corrected-and that it is but a bad spe- many persons as possible; and especially to
cies of independence which manifests itself those who, from their rank and education. are
by being occasionally offensive: and then she likely to regulate the judgment of the reattacks Shakespeare, as usual, for interspers- mainder. It is his business therefore to asing so many puerilities and absurdities and certain what does please the greater part of
grossieretis with his sublime and pathetic such persons; and to fashion his productions
passages.                                 according to the rules of taste which may be
Now, there is no denying, that a poem  deduced from that discovery. Now, we humwould be better without faults; and that ju- bly conceive it to be a complete and final jus
dicious painters use shades only to set off tification for the whole body of the English
their pictures, and not blots. But there are nation, who understand French as well as
two little remarks to be made. In the first English and yet prefer Shakespeare to Racine
place, if it be true that an extreme horror at just to state, modestly and firmly, the fact of
faults is usually found to exclude a variety that preference; and to declare, that their
of beauties, and that a poet can scarcely ever habits and tempers, and studies and occupaattain the higher excellencies of his art, with- tions, have been such as to make them receive
out some degree of that rash and headlong far greater pleasure from  the more varied
confidence which naturally gives rise to blem- imagery-the more flexible tone-the closer
ishes and excesses, it may not be quite so imitation of nature-the more rapid succesabsurd to hold, that this temperament and sion of incident, and vehement bursts of pasdisposition, with all its hazards. deserves en- sion of the English author, than from the
couragement, and to speak with indulgence unvarying majesty-the elaborate argument
of faults that are symptomatic of great beau- -and epigrammatic poetry of the French draties. There is a primitive fertility of soil that matist. For the taste of the nation at large,
naturally throws out weeds along with the we really cannot conceive that any other apolmatchless crops which it alone can bear; and ogy can be necessary: and though it might
we might reasonably grudge to reduce its be very desirable that they should agree with
rigour for the sake of purifying its produce. their neighbours upon this point, as well as
There are certain savage virtues that can upon many others, we can scarcely imagine
icarcely exist in perfection in a state of com- any upon which their disagreement could be,lete civilization; and, as specimens at least, attended with less inconvenience. For the
we may wish to preserve, and be allowed to authors, again, that have the misfortune not
admire them, with all their exceptionable to be so much admired by the adjoining naaccompaniments.  It is easy to say, that tions as.by their own countrymen, we can
there is no necessary connection between the only suggest, that this is a very common misfaults and the beauties of our great dramat- fortune; and that, as they wrote in the lanist; but the fact is, that since men have be- guage of their country, and will probably be
come afraid of falling into his faults, no one always most read within its limits, it was not
has approached to his beauties; and we have perhaps altogether unwise or unpardonable in
already endeavoured, on more than one oc- them to accommodate themselves to the taste
casion, to explain the grounds of this con- which was there established.
nection.                                    Madame de Stail has a separate chapter
But our second remark is, hat it is not quite upon Shakespeare; in which she gives him
fair to represent the controversy as arising full credit for originality, and for having been
altogether fiom the excessive and undue in- the first, and perhaps the only considerable
dulgence of the English for the admitted author, who did not copy from  preceding
faults of their favourite authors, and their per- models, but drew all his greater conceptions
sisting to idolize Shakespeare in spite of his directly from his own feelings and observabuffooneries, extravagancies, and bombast. tions. His representations of human passions
We admit that he has those faults; and, as therefore, are, incomparably more true and
they are faults, that he would be better with- touching, than those of any other writer; and
out them: but there are many more things are presented, moreover in a far more elemenwhich the French call faults, but which we tary and simple state, and without any of
deliberately consider as beauties. And here, those circumstances of dignity or contrast
we suspect, the dispute does not admit of any with which feebler artists seem to have held
settlement: Because both parties, if they are it indispensable that they should be set off.
really sincere in their opinion, and understand She considers him as the first writer who has
the subject of discussion, may very well be ventured upon the picture of overwhelming
right, and for that very reason incapable of -sorrow and hopeless wretchedness;-that de
coming to any agreement. We consider taste solation of the- heart which arises from the
to mean merely the faculty of receiving plea- long contemplation of ruined hopes and irre
sure from beauty; and, so far as relates to the parable privation; —that inward anguish and
persoa receiving that pledture, we apprehend bitterness of soul which the public life of the
it to admit of litt e doubt, that the best taste ancients prevented them  from feeling, and




5i8                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
their stoical precepts interdicted them from  III.; for all which we shall leave it to our
disclosing. The German poets, and some readers to make the best apology they call.
succeeding English authors, have produced a   Madame de Stadl thinks very poorly of our
prodigious effect by the use of this powerful talent for pleasantry; and is not very successinstrument; but nothing can exceed the orig- ful in her delineation of what we call hulmour.
inal sketches of it exhibited in Lear, in Ham- The greater part of the nation, she says, lives
let) in Timon of Athens, and in some parts of either in the serious occupations of business
Richard and of Othello. He has likewise and politics, or in the tranquil circle of family
drawn, with the hand of a master, the strug- affection. What is called society, therefore,
gles of nature under the immediate contem- has scarcely any existence among them; and
plation of approaching death; and that with- yet it is in that sphere of idleness and frivolity,
out those supports of conscious dignity or that taste is matured, and gaiety made ele.
exertion with which all other writers have gant. They are not at all trained, therefore
thought it necessary to blend or to contrast to observe the finer shades of character and
their pictures of this emotion. But it is in the of ridicule in real life; and consequently neiexcitement of the two proper tragic passions ther think of delineating them in their comof pity and terror, that the force and origin- positions, nor are aware of their merit when
ality of his genius are most conspicuous; pity delineated by others. We are unwilling to
not only for youth and innocence, and noble- think this perfectly just; and are encouraged
ness and virtue, as in Imogen and Desdemona, to suspect, that the judgment of the ingenious
Brutus and Cariolanus-but for insignificant author may not be altogether without appeal
persons like the Duke of Clarence, or profli- on such a subject, by observing, that she repgate and worthless ones like Cardinal Wolsey; resents the paltry flippancy and disgusting
-terror, in all its forms, from the madness affectation of Sterne, as the purest specimen
of Lear, and the ghost of Hamlet, up to the of true English humour; and classes the chardreams of Richard and Lady Macbeth. In acter of Falstaff along with that of Pistol, as
comparing the effects of such delineations parallel instances of that vulgar caricature
with the superstitious horror excited by the from which the English still condescend tc
mythological persons of the Greek drama, the receive amusement. It is more just, howvast superiority of the English author cannot ever, to observe, that the humour, and in
fail to be apparent. Instead of supernatural general the pleasantry, of our nation, has very
beings interfering with their cold and impas- frequently a sarcastic and even misanthropic
sive natures, in the agitations and sufferings character, which distinguishes it from the
of men, Shakespeare employs only the magic mere playfulness and constitutional gaiety of
of powerful passion, and of the illusions to our French neighbours; and that we have not,
which it gives birth. The phantoms and ap- for the most part, succeeded in our attempts
paritions which he occasionally conjures up to imitate the graceful pleasantry and agreeto add to the terror of the scene, are in truth able trifling of that ingenious people. We
but a bolder personification of those troubled develope every thing, she maintains, a great
dreams  and thick coming fancies, which har- deal too laboriously; and give a harsh and
row up the souls of guilt and agony; and painful colouring to those parts which the
even his sorcery and incantation are but traits very nature of their style requires to be but
of the credulity and superstition which so lightly touched and delicately shaded. We
frequently accompany the exaltation of the never think we are heard, unless we cry out;
greater passions. But perhaps the most mi- -nor understood, if we leave any thing unraculous of all his representations, are those told: —an excess of diffuseness and labour
in which he has pourtrayed the wanderings which could never be endured out of our own
of a disordered intellect, and especially of island. It is curious enough, indeed, to obthat species of distraction which arises from  serve, that men who have nothing to do with
excess of sorrow. Instead of being purely their time but to get rid of it in amusement
terrible, those scenes are, in his hands, in the are always much more impatient of any kind
highest degree touching and pathetic; and of tediousness in their entertainers, than those
the wildness of fancy, and richness of imagery who have but little leisure for entertainment.
which they display, are even less admirable The reason is, we suppose, that familiarity
than the constant, though incoherent expres- with business makes the latter habitually
sion of that one sentiment of agonizing grief tolerant of tediousness; while the less enwhich had overborne all the faculties of the grossing pursuits of the former, in order to
soul.                                     retain any degree of interest, require a very
Such are the chief beauties which Madame rapid succession and constant variety. On
de Stael discovers in Shakespeare; and though the whole, we do not think Madame de Sta/l
they are not perhaps exactly what an English very correct in her notions of English gaiety;
reader would think of bringing most into no- and cannot help suspecting, that she must
tice, it is interesting to know what strikes an have been in some respects unfortunate in her
intelligent foreigner, in pieces with which we society, during her visit to this country.
ourselves have always been familiar. The   Her estimate of our poetry, and of our works
chief fault she imputes to him, besides the of fiction, is more unexceptionable. She does
tr.lxtare of low buffoonery with tragic passion, not allow us much invention, in the strictest
are occasional tediousness and repetition-too sense of that word; and still less grace and
much visible horror and bloodshed-and the sprightliness in works of a light and playful
personal deformity of Caliban and Richard character: But, for glowing descriptions of




MADAME DE STAEL HOLSTEIN.                                    5*
nature-.-ior the pure language of the affec- terre, chacun pouvant agir d'une maniere quelcontions-for profound thought and lofty senti- que stlr les resolutions de ses representans, l'on
ment, she admits, that the greater poets of prend l'habitude de comparer la pens6e avec l'ac.
tion, et l'on s'accouturne a l'amour du bien public
England are superior to any thing else that par l'espoir d'y contribuer.'? —Vol. ii. pp. 5-7.
the world has yet exhibited.  Milton, Young,
Thomson Goldsmith, and Gray, seem  to be    She returns again, however, to her former
her chief7 favourites.  We do not find that imputation of'longueurs," and repetitions,
Cowper, or any later author, had come to her and excessive development; and maintain%
knowledge.  The best of them, however, she that the greater part of English books are
says, are chargeable with the national faults obscure, in consequence of their prolixity. and
of exaggeration, and'des longueurs.'  She of the author's extreme anxiety to be perfectly
overrates the merit, we think, of our novels, understood.  We suspect a part of the confuwhen sie says, that with the exception of La sion is owing to her want of familiarity with
Nouvelle Heloise, which belongs exclusively to  the language.  In point of fact, we know of
the genius of the singfular individual who pro- no French writer on similar subjects so conduced it, and has no relation to the character cise as Hume or Smith; and believe we mnight
of his nation, all the novels that have suc- retort the charge of longueurs, in the name
ceeded in France have been undisguised imi- of the whole English nation, upon one half of
tations of the English, to whom she ascribes, the French classic authors-upon their IRollin
without qualification, the honour of that meri- and their Masillon-their D'Alembelt-their
torious invention.                            Buffon -their Helvetius-and the whole tribe
The last chapter upon English literature re- of their dramatic writers: —while as to repelates to their philosophy and eloquence; and  titions, we are quite certain that there is no
here, though the learned author seems aware one English author who has repeated the same
of the transcendent merit of Bacon, we rather ideas half so often as Voltaire himself —certhink she" proves herself to be unacquainted  tainly not the most tedious of the fraternity.
with that of his illustrious contemporaries or She complains also of a want of warmth and
immediate successors, Hooker, Taylor, and  animation in our prose writers.  And it is
Barrow-for she places Bacon as the only lu- true that Addison and Shaftesbury are cold;
minary of our sphere in the period preceding but the imputation only convinces us the
the Usurpation, and considers the true era of more, that she is unacquainted with the writ.
British philosophy as commencing with the ings of Jeremy Taylor, and that illustrious
reign of King William.  We cannot admit the train of successors which has terminated, we
accuracy of this intellectual chronology. The  fear, in the person of Burke.  Our debates in
character of the English philosophy is to be parliament, she says, are more remarkable for
patient, profound, and always guided by a their logic than their rhetoric; and have more
view to utility.  They have done wonders in in them  of sarcasm. than of poetical figure
the metaphysic of the understanding; but and ornament.  And no doubt it is so-and
have not equalled De Retz, La Bruyere, or must be so-in all the discussions of permaeven Montaigne, in their analysis of the pas- nent assemblies, occupied from  day to day,
sions and dispositions.  The following short and from month to month, with great quespassage is full of sagacity and talent.       tions of internal legislation or foreign policy.
Les Anglais ont avan  dans les sciences phi. If she had heard Fox or Pitt, however, or
"Les Anglais ont avance dans les science    Burke or Windham- or Grattan  we carmot
Burke or Windham, or Grattan, we cannot
losophiques comme dans l'industrie commerciale, conceive that she should complain of our want
a l'aide de la patience et du temps. Le penchant
de leurs philosophes pour les abstractions sembloit of animation; and, warm as she is in her endevoir les entralner dans des systemes qui pouvoient comiums on the eloquence of Mirabeau, and
8tre contraires a la raison; mais l'esprit de calcul, some of the orators of the first revolution, she
qui regularise, dans leur application, les combinai- is forced to confess that our system of elosons abstraites, la moralitY, qui est la plus expe'ri- quence is better calculated for the detection
mentale de toutes les ide'es humaines, l'intret du quence is better calculated  for the  det ection
commerce, l'amour de la libert6, ont toujours ramene of sophistry, and the effectual enforcement
les philosophes Anglais a des resultats pratiques. of all salutary truth. We really are not aware
Que d'ouvrages entrepris pour servir utilement les of any other purposes which eloquence can
hommsi, pour l'education des enfans, pour le sou- serve in a great national assembly.
lagement des malheureux, pour l'economie politi-marks on our English litera
que, lalegislation criminelle, les sciences. la morale, ture-and here we must contrive also to close
la m'taphysique! Quelle philosophie dans les conceptions! quel respect pour l'experience dans le this desultory account of her lucubrations
ehoix des moyens!                             though we have accompanied her through
"C'est a la liberte' qu'il faut attribuer cette little more than one half of the work before
6mulation et cette sagesse. On pouvoit si rarement us.  It is impossible, however, that we can
se flatter en France d'influer par ses 6crits sur les now find room to say any thing of her expoinstitutions de son pays, qu'on ne songeoit qu'a sition of German or of French literature-and
montrer de l'esprit dans les discussions m~me les
ptus serieuses. On poussoit jusqu'au paradoxe un still less of her anticipations of the change
systeme vrai dans une- certaine mesure; la raison  which the establishment of a Republican govne pouvant avoir une effet utile. on vouloit au moins ernment in the last of those countries is likel
que le paradoxe ffit brillant. D'ailleurs sous une to produce,-or of the hints and cautions wite
monarchie absolue, on pouvoit sans danger vanter, which in co
comme dans le Contrat Social. la democratie pure;           templation of that event, she
mais on n'auroit point ose approcher des idees thinksitnecessarytoprovidehercountrymen.
possibles. Tout etoit jeu d'esprit en France, hors These are perhaps the most curious parts of
les arrbts du conseil du roi: tandis qu'en Angle- the work:-but we cannot enter upon then




60                       LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
at present;-and indeed, in what we have i the ingenious author upon whose work we
already said, we  have so far exceeded the have been employed; and that, if we had
limits to which we alwavs wish to confine confined ourselves to a mere abstract of her
ourselves, that we do not very well know what lucubrations, or interspersed fewer of our own
apology to make to our readers-except remarks with the accountwe have attempted.
merely, that we are not without hope. that to give of their substance, we might have
the miscellaneous nature of the subject, by extended this article to a still greater length,
which we have been insensibly drawn into without provoking the impatience even of the
this great prolixity, may have carried them  more fastidious of our readers. As it is, we
also along, with as moderate a share of fatigue feel that we have done but scanty justice,
as we have ourselves experienced. If it be either to our author or her subject-though
otherwise-we must have the candour and we can now make no other amends, than by
the gallantry to say, that we are persuaded earnestly entreating our readers to study both
the fault is to be imputed to us, and not to of them for themselves.
(B uL,  l       1e.)
The Complete Works, in Philosophy, Politics, and 2MIorals, of the late DR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.
Now first collected and arranged. With Memoirs of his Early Life, written by himself.3 vols. 8vo. pp. 1450. Johnson, London: 1806.
NOTHING, we think, can show more clearly able and unworthy service. It is ludicrous
the singular want of literary enterprise or to talk of the danger of disclosing in 1795,
activity, in the United States of America, any secrets of state, with regard to the war
than that no one has yet been found in that of American independence; and as to any
flourishing republic, to collect and publish  anecdotes or observations that might give
the works of their only philosopher. It is not I offence to individuals, we think it should
even very creditable to the liberal curiosity always be remembered, that public funcof the English public, that there should have tionaries are the property of the public; that
been no complete edition of the writings of their character belongs to history and to posDr. Franklin, till the year 1806: and we terity; and that it is equally absurd and disshould have been altogether unable to ac- creditable to think of suppressing any part of
count for the imperfect and unsatisfactory the evidence by which their merits must be
manner in which the task has now been per- ultimately determined. But the whole of the
formed, if it had not been for a statement in works that have been suppressed, certainly
the prefatory advertisement, which removes did not relate to republican politics. The
all blame from the editori to attach it to a history of the author's life, down to 1757,
higher quarter. It is there stated, that re- could not well contain any matter of offence;
cently after the death of the author, his and a variety of general remarks and specugrandson, to whom the whole of his papers lations which he is understood to have left
had been bequeathed, made a voyage to behind him, might have been permitted to
London, for the purpose of preparing and dis- see the light, though his diplomatic revelations
posing of a complete collection of all his had been forbidden. The emissary of Govpublished and unpublished writings, with ernment, however, probably took no care of
memoirs of his life. brought down by himself those things. He was resolved, we suppose.
to the year 1757, and continued to his death'to leave no rubs nor botches in his work j
by his descendant. It was settled, that the and, to stifle the dreaded revelation, he thought
work should be published in three quarto the best way was to strangle all the innocents
volumes, in England, Germany, and France; in the vicinage.
and a negotiation was commenced with the   Imperfect as the work now before us necbooksellers, as to the terms of the purchase essarily is, we think the public is very much
and publication. At this stage of the busi- indebted to its editor. It is presented in a
ness, however, the proposals were suddenly cheap and unostentatious form; and though
withdrawn; and nothing more has been heard it contains little that has not been already
of the work, in this its fair and natural mar- printed as the composition of the author, and
ket.  "The proprietor, it seems, had found a does not often settle any point of disputed
bidder of a different description, in some emis- authenticity in a satisfactory manner, it seems,
sary of Government, whose object was to on the whole, to have been compiled with
withhold the manuscripts from the world,-  sufficient diligence, and, arranged with connot to benefit it by their publication; and siderable judgment. Few writings, indeed,
they thus either passed into other hands, or require the aid of a commentator less than
the person to whom they were bequeathed, re- those of Dr. Franklin; and though this editor
ceived a remuneration for suppressing them." is rather too sparing of his presence, we are
If this statement be correct, we have no infinitely better satisfied to be left now and
hesitation in saying, that no emissary of Gov- then to our conjectures, than to be incumber.
ernment was ever employed on a more miser- ed with the explanations, and overpowered




DR. BENJAMIN. FRANKLIN.                               61
with the loquacity, of a more officious at- pendent of the maxims of tutors, and the
tendant.                                  oracles of literary patrons.
We do not propose to give any thing like a   The consequences of living in a refined and
regular account of the papers contained in literary community, are nearly of the same
these volumes. The best of them have long kind with those of a regular education. There
been familiar to the public; and there are are so many critics to be satisfied-so many
many which it was proper to preserve, that qualifications to be established-so many ricannot now be made interesting to the general vals to encounter, and so much derision to be
reader. Dr. Franklin, however, is too great hazarded, that a young man is apt to be dea man to be allowed to walk past, without terred from so perilous an enterprise, and led
some observation; and our readers, we are to seek for distinction in some safer line of
persuaded, will easily forgive us, if we yield exertion. He is discouraged by the fame and
to the temptation of making a few remarks on the perfection of certain models and favourites,
his character.                            who are always in the mouths of his judges,
This self-taught American is the most ra- and, A under them, his genius is rebuked,"
tional, perhaps, of all philosophers. He never and his originality repressed, till he sinks into
loses sight of common sense in any of his a paltry copyist, or aims at distinction, by exspeculations; and when his philosophy does travagance and affectation. In such a state
not. consist entirely in its fair and vigorous of society, he feels that mediocrity has no
application, it is always regulated and con- chance of distinction: and what begiIner can
trolled by it in its application and result. No expect to rise at once into excellence? He
individual, perhaps, ever possessed a juster imagines that mere good sense will attract no
understanding; or was so seldom obstructed attention; and that the manner is of much
in the use of it, by indolence, enthusiasm, or more importance than the matter, in a candiauthority.                                date for public admiration. In his attention
Dr. Franklin received no regular education; to the manner, the matter is apt to be neand he spent the greater part of his lifelin a glected; and, in his solicitude to please those
society where there was no relish and no en- who require elegance of diction, brilliancy of
couragement for literature. On an ordinary wit, or harmony of periods, he is in some danmind, these circumstances would have pro- ger of forgetting that strength of reason, and
duced their usual effects, of repressing all accuracy of observation, by which he first prosorts of intellectual ambition or activity, and posed to recommend himself. His attention
perpetuating a generation of incurious me- when extended to so many collateral objects,
chanics: but to an understanding like Frank- is no longer vigorous or collected:-the stream,
iines, we cannot help considering them  as divided into so many channels, ceases to flow
peculiarly propitious; and imagine that we either deep or strong;-he becomes an unsuc.
can trace back to them, distinctly, almost all cessful pretender to fine writing, or is satisthe peculiarities of his intellectual charac- fied with the frivolous praise of elegance or
ter.                                      vivacity.
Regular education, we think, is unfavour-   We are disposed to ascribe so much power
able to vigour or originality of understanding. to these obstructions to intellectual originality,
Like civilization, it makes society more in- that we cannot help fancying, that if Franklin
telligent and agreeable; but it levels the dis- had been bred in a college, he would have
tinctions of nature. ( It strengthens and assists contented himself with expounding the methe feeble; but it deprives the strong of his tres of Pindar, and mixing argument with his
triumph, and casts down the hopes of the port in the common room; and that if Boston
aspiring.) It accomplishes this, not only by had abounded with men of letters he would
training up the mind in an habitual veneration never have ventured to come forth from his
for authorities, but~ by leading us to bestow a printing-house; or been driven back to it, at
disproportionate degree of attention upon any rate, by the sneers of the critics, after the
studies that are only valuable as keys or in- first publication of his Essays in the Busy
struments for the understandingfthey come Body.
at last to be regarded as ultimate\ objects of   This will probably be thought exaggerated;
pursuit; (and the means of education are ab- but it cannot be denied, we think, that the
surdly. istaken for its end.) How many contrary circumstances in his history had a
powerful understandings have been lost in powerful effect in determining the character
the Dialectics of Aristotle!  And of how  of his understanding, and in producing those
much good philosophy are we daily defraud- peculiar habits of reasoning and investigation
ed, by the preposterous error of taking a by which his writings are distinguished. He
knowledge of prosody for useful learing! was encouraged to publish, because there was
The mind of a man, who has escaped this scarcely any one around him whom he.ould
training, will at least have fair play. What- not easily excel. He wrote with great breviever other errors he may fall into, he will be ty, because he had not leisure for more volusafe at least from these infatuations: And if minious compositions, and because he knew
he thinks proper, after he grows up, to study that the readers to whom he addressed himGreek, it will probably be for some better self were, for the most part as busy as himpurpose than to become critically acquainted self. For the same reason, he studied great
with its dialects.  His prejudices will be perspicuity and simplicity of statement. His
those of a man, and not of a schoolboy; and countrymen had then no relish for fine writais speculations and conclusions will be inde- ing, and could not easily be made to under.




62                      LITERATITRE AND BIOGRAPHY.
stand a deduction depending on a long or he began the investigation ratherto determine
Jlaboiate process of reasoning.  He was a particular case, than to establish a general
forced, therefore, to concentrate what he had maxim, so he probably desisted as soon as he
to say; and since he had no chance of being had relieved himself of the present difficulty.
admired for the beauty of his composition, it   There are not many among the thoroughwas natural for him to aim at making an im- bred scholars and philosophers of Europe, who
pression by the force and the clearness of his can lay claim to distinction in more than one
statements.                               or two departments of science or literature.
His conclusions were often rash and inaccu- The uneducated tradesman of America has
rate, from the same circumstances which ren- left writings that call for our respectful attendered his productions concise. Philosophy tion, in natural philosophy;-in politics,-in
and speculation did not form the business of political economy,-and in general literature
his life; nor did he dedicate himself to any and morality.
particular study, with a view to exhaust and   Of his labours in the department of Physics,
complete the investigation of it in all its parts, we do not propose to say much. They were
and under all its relations. He engaged in almost all suggested by views of utility in the
every interesting inquiry that suggested itself beginning, and were, without exception, apto him, rather as the necessary exercise of a plied, we believe, to promote such views in
powerful and active mind, than as a task the end. His letters upon Electricity have
which he had bound himself to perform. He been more extensively circulated than any of
cast a quick and penetrating glance over the his other writings of this kind; and are enfacts and the data that were presented to him; titled to more praise and popularity than they
and drew his conclusions with a rapidity and seem ever to have met with in this country.
precision that have not often been equalled. Nothing can be more admirable than the luB3tt he did not generally stop to examine the minous and graphical precision with which
completeness of the data upon which he pro- the experiments are narrated; the ingenuity
ceeded nor to consider the ultimate effect or with which they are projected; and the sagaapplication of the principles to which he had city with which the conclusion is inferred,
been conducted. In all questions, therefore, limited, and confirmed.
where the facts upon which he was to deter-   The most remarkable thing, however, in
mine, and the materials from which his judg- these, and indeed in the whole of his physical
ment was to be formed, were either few in speculations, is the unparalleled simplicity
number, or of such a nature as not to be over- and facility with which the reader is conlooked, his reasonings are, for the most part. ducted from one stage of the inquiry to anperfectly just and conclusive, and his decisions other. The author never appears for a mounexceptionably sound; but where the ele- ment to labour or to be at a loss. The most
ments of the calculation were more numerous ingenious and profound explanations are sugand widely scattered, it appears to us that he gested, as if they were the most natural
has often been precipitate, and that he has and obvious way of accounting for the pheeither been misled bya partial apprehension of nomena; and the author seems to value himthe conditions of the problem, or has discovered self so little on his most important discoveries,
only a portion of the truth which lay before that it is necessary to compare him with
him. In all physical inquiries; in almost all others, before we can form a just notion of his
questions of particular and immediate policy; merits. As he seems to be conscious of no
and in much of what relates to the practical exertion, he feels no partiality for any part of
wisdom  and happiness of private life, his his speculations, and never seeks to raise the
views will be found to be admirable, and the reader's idea of their importance, by any arts
reasoning by which they are supported most of declamation or eloquence. Indeed, the hamasterly and convincing. But upon subjects of bitual precision of his conceptions, and his
general politics, of abstract morality, and politi- invariable practice of referring to specific facts
cal economy, his notions appear to be more un- and observations, secured him, in a great measatisfactory and incomplete. He seems to have sure, both from those extravagant conjectures
wanted leisure, and perhaps inclination also, in which so many naturalists have indulged,
to spread out before him the whole vast pre- and from  the zeal and enthusiasm  which
mises of those extensive sciences, and scarcely seems so naturally to be engendered in their
to have had patience to hunt for his con- defence. He was by no means averse to give
clusions through so wide and intricate a region scope to his imagination, in suggesting a vaas that upon which they invited him to enter. riety of explanations of obscure and unmanHe has been satisfied, therefore, on many occa- ageable phenomena; but he never allowed
sions, with reasoning from a very limited view  himself to confound these vague and conjecof the facts, and often from a particular in- tural theories with the solid results of experistance; and he has done all that sagacity and ence and observation. In his Meteorological
sound sense could do with such materials: papers, and in his Observations upon Heat and
but it cannot excite wonder, if he has some- Light, there is a great doal of such bold and
times overlooked an essential part of the argu- original suggestions: but he evidently sets but
ment, and often advanced a particular truth little value upon them; and has no sooner
into the place of a general principle. He sel- disburdened his mind of the impressions from
dom reasoned upon those subjects at all, we which they proceeded, than he seems to disbelieve, without having some practical appli- miss them entirely from his consideration,
cation of them immediately in view; and as and turns to the legitimate philosophy of ex




DR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.                                      63
periment with unabated diligence and hu- very wild speculation upon magnetism; and
mility. As an instance of this disposition, we notwithstanding the additional temptation o?
may quote part of a letter to the Abbe Sou- this new piece of ingenuity, he abandons it ill
laive, upon a new Theory of the Earth, which  the end with as much unconcern, as if he
he proposes and dismisses, without concern or had had no share in the making of it.  We
anxiety, in the course of a few  sentences; shall add the whole passage.
though, if the idea had fallen upon the brain    " It has long been a supposition of mine, that the
of an European philosopher, it might have ger- iron contained in the surface of the globe has made
minated into a volume of eloquence, like it capable of becoming, as it is, a great magnet;
Buffon's, or an infinite array of paragraphs and  that the fluid of magnetism  perhaps exists in all
observations, like those of Parkinson and Dr. space; so that there is a magnetical north and
observaHutton.   like those of Parkinson and Dr.south of the Universe, as well as of this globe, so
AHutton. r,   s -    X    *                 that if it were possible for a man to fly from star to
After remarking, that there are manifold  star, he might govern his course by the compass;
indications of some of the highest parts of the  that it was by the power of this general magnetism
land having been formerly covered by sea, this globe became a particular magnet. In soft or
Dr. Franklin observes-                         hot iron the fluid of magnetism is naturally diffused
equally: But when within the influence of the
" Such changes in the superficial parts of the magnet, it is drawn to one end of the iron; made
globe, seemed to me unlikely to happen, if the denser there, and rarer at the other. While the
earth were solid in the centre. I therefore imagined, iron continues soft and hot, it is only a temporary
that the internal parts might be a fluid more dense, magnet: if it cools or grows hard in that situation,
and of greater specific gravity than any of the solids it becomes a permanent one, the magnetic fluid not
we are acquainted with, which therefore might easily resuming its equilibrium. Perhaps it may
swim in or upon that fluid. Thus the surface of be owing to the permanent magnetism of thisglobe,
the globe would be a shell, capable of being broken  which it had not at first, that its axis is at present
and disordered by the violent movements of the kept parallel to itself and not liable to the changes
fluid on which it rested. And as air has been corn- it formerly suffered. which occasioned the rupture
pressed by art so as to be twice as dense as water, of its shell, the submersions and emersions of its
and as we know not yet the degree of density to lands, and the confusion of its seasons.'Ihe present
which air may be compressed, and M. Amontons polar and equatorial diameters differing from each
calcuiated that its density increasing as it approached other near ten leagues, it is easy to conceive, in case
the centre in the same proportion as above the sur- some power should shift the axis gradually, and
face, it would, at the depth of  leagues, be heavier place it in the present equator, and make the new
than gold, and possibly the dense fluid occupying  equator pass through the present poles, what a
the internal parts of the globe might therefore be sinking of the waters would happen in the present
air compressed.  And as the force of expansion in equatorial regions, and what a rising in the present
dense air, when heated, is in proportion to its polar regions; so that vast tracts would be disdensity, this central air might afford another agent covered, that now are under water, and others
to move the surface, as well as be of use in keeping  covered, that are now dry, the water rising and
alive the subterraneous fires; though, as you observe, sinking in the different extremes near five leagues.
the sudden rarefaction of water coming into contact Such an operation as this possibly occasioned much
with those fires, may also be an agent sufficiently  of Europe, and among the rest this Mountain of
strong for that purpose, when acting between the  Passy on which I live, and which is composed of
incumbent earth and the fluid on which it rests.   limestone rock and sea-shells, to be abandoned by
"If one might indulge imagination in supposing  the sea, and to change its ancient climate, which
how such a globe was formed, I should conceive, seems to have been a hot one. The globe being
that all the elements in separate particles being now become a perfect magnet, we are, perhaps,
originally mixed in confusion, and occupying a great safe from any change of its axis. But we are still
space, they would (as soon as the Almighty fiat or- subject to the accidents on the surface, which are
dained gravity, or the mutual attraction of certain  occasioned by a wave in the internal ponderous
parts, and the mutual repulsion of others to exist) fluid. and such a wave is producible by the sudden
all move to their common centre: that the air being violent explosion you mention, happening from the
a fluid whose parts repel each other, though drawn  junction of water and fire under the earth, which
to the common centre by their gravity, would be not only lifts the incumbent earth that is over the
densest towards the centre, and rarer as more re- explosion, but impressing with the same force the
mote; consequently, all matters lighter than the fluid under it, creates a wave, that may run a
central parts of that air, and immersed in it, would  thousand leagues, lifting, and thereby shaking, sucrecede from the centre, and rise till they arrived at cessively, all the countries under which it passes. I
that region of the air which was of the same specific know not whether I have expressed myself so
gravity with themselves, where they would rest; clearly, as not to get out of your sight in these
while other matter, mixed with the lighter air, reveries. If they occasion any new inquiries, and
would descend, and the two, meeting, would form  produce a better hypothesis, they will not be quite
the shell of the first earth, leaving the upper atmos. useless. You see I have given a loose to imagination;
phere nearly clear. The original movement of the but I approve much more your method of philoso.
parts towards their common centre, would natu- phizing, which proceeds upon actual observation,
rally form a whirl there; which would continue, makes a collection of facts, and concludes no further
upon the turning of the new-formed globe upon its than those facts will warrant. In my present ciraxis: and the greatest diameter of the shell would  cumstances, that mode of studying the nature of
be in its equator. If, by any accident afterwards, the globe is out of my power, and therefore I have
the axis should be changed, the dense internal fluid, permitted myself to wander a little in the wilds of
by altering its form, must burst the shell, and throw  fancy."-vol. ii. p. 119-121.
all its substance into the confusion in which we find
it. I will not trouble you at present with my fan-   Our limits will not permit us to make any
cies concerning the manner of forming the rest of analysis of the other physical papers contained
our system. Superior beings smile at our theories, in this collection. They are all admirable for
and at our presumption in making them."-vol. ii. the clearness of the description  the felicity
pp. 117 —119.                                  and familiarity of the illustrations, and the
He afterwards makes his theory much finer singular sagacity of the remarks with which
and more extravagant, by combining with it a they are interspersed.  The theory of whirl




64                         LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
winds and waterspouts, as well as the obser- increase our regret, that the talents of the
vations on the course of the winds and on cold, author should have been wasted on such
seem to be excellent. The paper called Mari- perishable materials.
time Observations is fill of ingenuity and    There is notmuch written on the subject of
practical good sense; and the remarks on the dispute with the colonies; and most of Dr.
Evaporation, and on the Tides, most of which  Franklin's papers on that subject are already
are contained in a series of letters to a young  well known to the public. His examination belady, are admirable, not merely for their per- fore the House of Commons in 1766 affords a
spicuity, but for the interest and amusement striking proof of the extent of his information,
they are calculated to communicate to every the clearness and force of his extempore comdescription of readers. The remarks on Fire- position, and the steadiness and self-possession
places and Smoky chimnies are infinitely more which enabled him to display these qualities
original, concise, and scientific, than those of with so much effect upon such an occasion.
Count Rumford; and the observations on the His letters before the commencement of hosGulph-stream  afford. we believe, the first tilities are full of grief and anxiety; but, no
example of just theory, and accurate investi- sooner did matters come to extremities, than
gation, applied to that phenomenon.           he appears to have assumed a certain keen
Dr. Franklin, we think, has never made use and confident cheerfulness, not unmixed with
of the mathematics, in his investigation of the a seasoning of asperity, and more Vindictivephenomena of nature; and though this may ness of spirit than perhaps became a philosorender it surprising that he has fallen into so pher.  In a letter written in October 1775, he
few errors of importance, we conceive that it expresses himself in this manner:helps in some measure to explain the un-   "Tell our dear good friend *, who sometimes
equalled perspicuity and vivacity of his expo- has his doubts and despondencies about our firmsitions. An algebraist, who can work wonders ness, that America is determined and unanimous;
with letters, seldom  condescends to be much  a very few Tories and placemen excepted, who
indebted to words; and thinks himself enti- will probably soon export themselves. Britain, at
tied to make his sentences obscure, provided  the expense of three millions, has killed one hunhis calculations be distinct. A writer who  dred and fifty Yankies this campaign, which is
his calculations be distinct.  A xvrter      who20,0001. a head; and, at Bunker's Hill, she gained
has nothing but words to make use of, must a mile of ground, half of which she lost again by
make all the use he can of them: he cannot our taking post on Ploughed Hill.  During the
afford to neglect the only chance he has of same time, sixty thousand children have been born
being understood.                             in America. From these data, his mathematical
We should now say something of the politi- head will easily calculate the time and expense nec-'g pod tion   essary to kill us all, and conquer our whole terri.
cal writings of Dr. Franklin,-the'productionstory."-vol. iii p. 357 358
which first raised him  into public office and
eminenee, and which will be least read or   The following letters, whichpassed between
attended to by posterity. They may be di- Dr. Franklin and Lord Howe, when his Lord.
vided into two parts; those which relate to ship arrived off the American coast with what
the internal affairs and provincial differences were called the pacificatory proposals in 1776,
of the American colonies, before their quarrel show not only the consideration in which the
with the mother country; and those which former was held by the Noble Commissioner,
relate to that quarrel and its consequences. but contain a very striking and prophetic stateThe former are no longer in any degree in- ment of the consequences to be apprehended
teresting: and the editor has done wisely, we from the perseverance of Great Britain in her
think, in presenting his readers with an ab- schemes of compulsion. His Lordship writes,
stract only of the longest of them.  This was in June 1776,published in 1759, under the title of an His-   " I cannot, my worthy friend, permit the letters
torical Review of the Constitution of Pennsyl- and parcels, which I have sent (in the state I revania, and consisted of upwards of 500 pages, ceived them,) to be landed, without adding a word
vania, and consisted of upwards of 500 pagest upon the subject of the injurious extremities in
corposed for the purpose of showing that the which our unhappy disputes have engaged us.
political privileges reserved to the founder of     "You will learn the nature of my mission, from
the colony had been illegally and oppressively  the official despatches which I have recommended
used. The Canada pamphlet, written in 1760, to be forwarded by the same conveyance. Retainfor the purpose of pointing out the importance ing all the earnestness I ever expressed, to see our
of retaining that colony at the peace, is given differences accommodated; I shall conceive, if I
entire; and appears to be composed with great meet with the disposition in the colonies which I
was once taught to expect, the most flattering hopes
force of reason, and in a style of extraordinary of proving serviceable in the objects of the King's
perspicuity.  The same may be said of what paternal solicitude, by promoting the establishment
are called the Albany Papers, or the plan for of lasting peace and union with the Colonies. But,
a general political union of the colonies in if the deep-rooted prejudices of America, and the
1754; and a variety  of other tracts on the necessity of preventing her trade from passing into
foreign channels, must keep us still a divided people,
provincial politics of that day.  All these are I shagnll, from every private as well as public motive,
worth preserving, both as monuments of Dr. most heartily lament, that this is not the moment,
Franklin's talents and activity, and as afford- wherein those great objects of my ambition are to
ing, in many places, very excellent models of be attained, and that I am to be longer deprived of
strong reasoning and popular eloquence: but an opportunity to assure you, personally, of the re.
the interest of the subjects is now completely gard with which I am, &c." —vol. iii. p. 365-367.
gone by; and the few specimens of general   Dr. Franklin answered, —
reasoning which we meet with, serve only to    "I received safe the letters your Lordship so




DR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIX                                       65
kindly forwarded to me, and beg you to accept my tations that a reconciliation might soon take place.
thanks.                                        I had the misfortune to find these expectations dis"The official despatches to which you refer me, appointed, and to be treated as the cause of the
contain nothing more than what we had seen in the mischief I was labouring to prevent. My consolaact of Parliament, viz.' Offers of pardon upon sub- tion under that grqundless and malevolent treatment
mission;' which I was sorry to find; as it must was, that I retained the friendship of many wise
give your Lordship pain to be sent so far on so and good men in that country; and, among the
hopeless a business.                           rest, some share in the regard of Lord Howe.
"' Directing pardons to be offered to the colonies,   "The well-founded esteem, and, permit me to
who are the very parties injured, expresses indeed  say, affection, which I shall always have for your
that opinion of our ignorance, baseness, and insen- Lordship, make it painful to me to see you engaged
sibility, which your uninformed and proud nation in conducting a war, the great ground of which (as
has long been pleased to entertain of us; but it can described in your letter) is' the necessity of prehave no other effect than that of increasing our re- venting the American trade from  passing into
eentments..lt is impossible we should think of foreign channels.' To me it seems, that neither
submission to a government that has, with the most the obtaining or retaining any trade, how valuable
wanton barbarity and cruelty, burned our defence- soever, is an object for which men may justly spill
less towns in the smidst of winter; excited the each other's blood; that the true and sure means
savages to massearue our (peaceful) farmers, and our of extending and securing commerce, are the goodslaves to murder their masters; and is even now* ness and cheapness of commodities; and that the
bringing foreign mercenaries to deluge our settle- profits of no trade can ever be equal to the exments with blood. These atrocious injuries have pense of compelling it, and holding it by fleets and
extinguished every spark of affection for that parent armies. I consider this war against us, therefore,
country we once held so dear: but, were it possible as both unjust and unwise; andl am persuaded that
for us to forget and forgive them, it is not possible cool and dispassionate posterity will condemn to
for you (I mean the British nation) to forgive the infamy those who advised it; and that even success
people you have so heavily injured.  You can  will not save from some degreeofdishonour, those
never confide again in those as fellow-subjects, and who have voluntarily engaged to conduct it.
permit them to enjoy equal freedom, to whom you    " I know your great motive in coming hither was
know you have given such just causes of lasting the hope of being instrumental in a reconciliation;
enmity: and this must impel you, were we again and I believe, when you find that to be impossible,
under your government, to endeavour the breaking on any terms given you to propose, you will then
our spirit by the severest tyranny, and obstructing, relinquish so odious a command, and return to a
by every means in your power, our growing strength  more honourable private station.
and prosperity.                                  "With the greatest and most sincere respect, I
"But your Lordship mentions' the King's pa- have the honour to be, &c."-vol. iii. p. 367-371.
ternal solicitude for promoting the establishment of
lasting peace and union with the Colonies.' If by    None of Dr. Franklin's political writings,
peace is here meant, a peace to be entered into by during the nine years when he resided as
distinct states, now at war; and his Majesty has Ambassador at the Court of France, have yet
given your Lordship powers to treat with us of such been made public. Some of them, we should
a peace; I may venture to say, though without au- imagine, must be highly interesting.
thority, that I think a treaty for that purpose  ot   Of the m     this author as a politica
quite impracticable, before we enter into foreign economist we have already had occasion t
alliances. But I am persuaded you have no such economist we have already had occasion to,
powers. Your nation, though, by punishing those say something, in the general remarks whick
American governors who have fomented the discord, we made on the character of his genius; andi
rebuilding our burnt towns, and repairing as far as we cannot now spare time to go much into,
possible the mischiefs done us, she might recover a particulars.  He is perfectly sound upon many
great share  f our regard, adll the greadvantageshare important and practical points; —upon the
of our growing commerce, with all the advantages corn-trade and the theoryof money, for in-.
of that additional strength, to be derived from a corn-trade, and the theoryof money, fr infriendship with us; yet I know too well her abound- stance; and also upon the more general docing pride and deficient wisdom, to believe she will trines, as to the freedom  of commerce, and"
ever take such salutary measures. Her fondness for the principle of population. In the more ele.
conquest as a warlike nation; her lust of dominion mentary and abstract parts of the science,
as an ambitious one; and her thirst for a gainful however his views seem  to have been less
monopoly as a commercial one, (none of them legitimate causes of war,) will join to hide from her just and luminous.  He is not very consistent
eyes every view of her true interest, and con- or profound in what lie says of the effects of
tinually goad her on in those ruinous distant expe- luxury; and seems to have gone headlong.
ditions, so destructive both of lives and of treasure, into the radical error of the Economistes, when
that they must prove as pernicious to her in the end, he maintains, that all that is done by manuas the Croisades formerly were to most of the na. facture is to embody the value of the manutions of Europe.                               facture is to embody the value of the man
"I have not the vanity, my Lord, to think of in. facturer's subsistence in his work, and that
timidating, by thus predicting the effects of this agriculture is the only source from which a,
war; for I know it will in England have the fate real increase of wealth can be derived.  An
of all my former predictions-not to be believed other favourite position is, that all commerce
till the event shall verify it.
"Long did I endeavour, with unfeigned and un-is cheating, where a commodity; produced by
wearied zeal, to preserve from breaking that fine a certain quantity of labour, is exchanged for
and noble porcelain vase-the British empire; for I another, on which more labour has been ex-.
knew that, being once broken, the separate parts pended; and that the only fair price of any
could not retain even their share of the strength and thing, is some other thing requiring the same
value that existed in the whole; and that a perfect exertion to bring it to market.  This is evi-.
reunion of those parts could scarce ever be hoped dently a very narrow and erroneous view of
for. Your Lordship may possibly remember the dently
tears of joy that wetted my cheek, when, at your the nature of commerce. The far price to
good sister s in London, you once gave me expec- the purchaser is, whatever he deliberately
* About this time the Hessians, &c. had just arrived chooses to give, rather than go without the
from Europe at Staten Island and New York. B. V.  commodity; —it is no matter. to hin,,whethei
5




LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
the seller bestowed much orlittle labour upon ders of Boston and Philadelphia) such warrn
it, or whether it came into his possession ings were altogether unnecessary; and he
without any labour at all; —whether it be a endeavoured, therefore, with more appropridiamond, which he picked up; or a picture, at ate eloquence, to impress upon them the im.
which he had been working ior years. The portance of industry, sobriety, and economy,
commodity is not valued by the purchaser, and to direct their wise and humble ambition
on account of the labour which is supposed to to the attainment of useful knowledge and
be embodied in it, but solely on account of honourable independence.  That morality,
certain qualities, which he finds convenient after all, is certainly the most valuable, which
or agreeable: he compares the convenience is adapted to the circumstances of the greater
and delight which he expects to derive from  part of mankind; and that eloquence the most
this object, with the convenience and delight meritorious, that is calculated to convince and
which is afforded by the things asked in ex- persuade the multitude to virtue. Nothing
change for it; and if he find the former pre- can be more perfectly and beautifully adapted
ponderate, he consents to the exchange, and to its object, than most of Dr. Franklin's
makes a beneficial bargain.               compositions of this sort. The tone of familiWe have stated the case in the name of a arity, of good-will, and homely jocularitypurchaser, because, in barter, both parties the plain and pointed illustrations-the short
are truly purchasers, and act upon the same sentences, made up of short words-and the
principles; and it is easy to show  that all strong sense, clear information, and obvious
commerce resolves itself, ultimately, into bar- conviction of the author himself, make most
ter. There can be no unfairness in trade, of his moral exhortations perfect models of
except where there is concealment on the popular eloquence; and afford the finest specpart of the seller, either of the defects of the imens of a style which has been but too little
commodity, or of the fact that the purchaser cultivated in a country which numbers permay be supplied with it at a cheaper rate by haps more than half a million of readers
another. It is a matter of fact, but not of among its tradesmen and artificers.
morality, that the price of most commodities   In writings which possess such solid and
will be influenced by the labour employed in unusual merit, it is of no great consequence
producing them. If they are capable of being that the fastidious eye of a critic can discover
produced in unlimited quantities, the compe- many blemishes. There is a good deal of
tition of the producers will sink the price very vulgarity in the practical writings of Dr.
nearly to what is necessary to maintain this Franklin; and more vulgarity than was any
labour; and the impossibility of continuing way necessary for the object he had in view.
the production, without repaying that labour, There is something childish, too, in some of
will prevent it from sinking lower. The doc- his attempts at pleasantry; his story of the
trine does not apply at all, to cases where the Whistle, and his Parisian letter, announcing
materials, or the skill necessary to work them  the discovery that the sun gives light as soon
up, are scarce in proportion to the demand. as he rises, are instances of this. The soliloThe author's speculations on the effects of quy of an Ephemeris, however, is much betpaper-money, seem also to be superficial and ter; and both it, and the Dialogue with the
inaccurate. Statistics had not been carefully Gout, are executed with the lightness and
studied in the days of his activity; and, ac- spirit of genuine French compositions. The
cordingly, we meet with a good deal of loose Speech in the Divan of Algiers, composed as
assumption, and sweeping calculation in his a parody on those of the defenders of the
writings. Yet he had a genius for exact ob- slave. trade, and the scriptural parable against
servation, and complicated detail; and proba- persecution are inimitable; —they have all
bly wanted nothing but leisure, to have made the point and facility of the fine pleasantries
very great advances in this branch of economy. of Swift and Arbuthnot, with something more
As a writer on morality and general litera- of directness and apparent sincerity.
ture, the merits of Dr. Franklin cannot be   The style of his letters, in general, is exestimated properly, without taking into con- cellent. They are chiefly remarkable, for
sideration the peculiarities that have been great simplicity of language, admirable good
already alluded to in his early history and sense and ingenuity, and an amiable and
situation. He never had the benefit of any inoffensive cheerfulness, that is never overacademical instruction, nor of the society of clouded or eclipsed. Among the most valua*men of letters;-his style was formed entirely ble of the writings that are published for the
by his own judgment and occasional reading; first time, in the present edition, are four let.,and most of his moral pieces were written ters from Dr. Franklin to Mr. Whatley, writwhile he was a tradesman, addressing him- ten within a few years of his death, and;self to the tradesmen of his native city. We expressive of all that unbroken gaiety, phi.
cannot expect, therefore, either that he should lanthropy, and activity, which distinguish the
write with extraordinary elegance or grace; compositions of his earlier years. We give
or that he should treat of the accomplish- with pleasure the following extracts.
ments, follies, and occupations of polite life.
He had no great occasion, as a moralist, to   "I am not acquainted with the saying of Alphon.'expose the guilt and the folly of gaming or sus, which you allude to as a sanctification of your
4eduction; or to point a poignant and playful rigidity, in refusing to allow me the plea of old age
ridicule against the lighter immoralities of spondence. Whatfor my wasthatof exayingtitue in corre
fashionable life. To the mechanics and tra- seems, feel any occasion for such an excuse, though




DR. BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.                                      67
ou are, as you say, rising seventy-five, but I am  their way home) whether, now they had seen how
rising (perhaps more properly falling) eighty-and  much more commodiously the white people lived
I leave the excuse with you till you arrive at that by the help of the arts, they would not choose to
age; perhaps you may then be more sensible of its remain among us-their answer was, that they were
validity, and see fit to use it for yourself.  pleased with having had an opportunity of seeing
" I must agree with you that the gout is bad, and many fine things, but they chose to live in their own
that the stone is worse. I am happy in not having country: which country, by the way, consisted of
them both together; and I join in your prayer, that rock only: for the Moravians were obliged to caryou may live till you die without either. But I doubt ry earth in their ship from New York, for the purthe author of the epitaph you sent me is a little mis- pose of makingthere a cabbage garden!"-Vol. iii.
taken, when, speaking of the world, he says, that  pp. 550, 551.
-' lie ne'er car'd a pin         " You are now seventy-eight, and I am eighty.
What they said or may say of the mortal within.'  two. You tread fast upon my heels; but, though
"It is so natural to wish to be well spoken of, you have more strength and spirit, you cannot
whether alive or dead, that I imagine he could not come up with me till I stop, which must now be
be quite exempt from that desire; and that at least soon; for I am grown so old as to have buried most
he wished to be thought a wit, or he would not of the friends of my youth; and I now often hear
have given himself the trouble of writing so good persons, whom I knew when children, called old
an epitaph  to leave behind him."-" You see I lMr. such a one, to distinguish them from their sons,
have some reason to wish that in a future state I now men grown, and in business; so that, by livs
may not only be as well as I was, but a little better. have ing twelve years beyond David's paneriod, I seem toy,
And I hope it: for I, too, with your poet, trust in have intruded myself into the company of posterity,
God. And when I observe, that there is great fru-when I ought to have been abed and asleep. Yet
gality as well as wisdom in his works, since he has had I gone at seventy, it would have cut of twelve
been evidently sparing both of labour and materials; of the most active years of my life, employed, too,
for, by the vi ari ous wo  nderful inventions of propal  in matters of the greatest importance: but whether
forgation, he has provided for the ontinual popling  I have been doing good or mischief, is for time to
gation, he has provided for the continual peopling discover. I only know that I intended well, and
his world with plants and animals, without being discover. I only know that I intended well, and
at the trouble of repeated new creations: and by I hope all will end well.
the natural reduction of compound substances to    "Be so good as to present my affectionate retheir original elements, capable of being employed spects to Dr. Rowley. I am under great obligain new compositions, he has prevented the neces- tions to him, and shall write to him shortly. It
sity of creating new matter; for that the earth, will be a pleasure to him to hear that my malady
water, air, and perhaps fire, which being compound- does not grow sensibly worse, and that is a great
ed, form wood, do, when the wood is dissolved, re- point; for it has always been so tolerable, as not
turn, and again become air, earth, fire and water*-to prevent my enjoying the pleasures of society,
I say, that when I see nothing annihilated, and not and, being cheerful in conversation. I owe this in
even a drop of water wasted, I cannot suspect the a great measure to his good counsels."-Vol. iii.
annihilation of souls; or believe that he will suffer pp. 555, 556.
the daily waste of millions of minds ready made    Your eyes must continue very good, since you
that now exist, and put himself to the continual are able to write so small a hand without specta
trouble of making new ones. Thus finding my- cles. I cannot distinguish a letter even of large
self to exist in the world, I believe I shall in some print; but am happy in the invention of double
shape or other always exist. And with all the in- spectacles, which, serving for distant objects as well
shape or other always exist.  And with all the inconveniences human life is liable to, I shall not as near ones, make my eyes as useful to me as
object to a new edition of mine; hoping, however, ever they were. If all the other defects, and in
that the errata of the last may be corrected."-Vol. firmities of old age could be as easily and cheaply
iii. pp. 546-548.                              remedied, it would be worth while', my friend, to live
" Our constitution seems not to be well under- a good deal longer. But I look upon death to be as
stood with you. If the congress were a permanent necessary to our constitutions as sleep. We shall
body, there would be more reason in being jealous rise refreshed in the morning. Adleu, and believe
of giving it powers. But its members are chosen me ever, &c."-Vol. iii. pp. 544, 545.
annually, and cannot be chosen more than three    There is something extremely amiable in
years successively, nor more than three years in
seven, and any of them may be recalled at any time, old age, when thus exhibited without queruwhenever their constituents shall be dissatisfied lousness, discontent, or impatience, and free,
with their conduct. They are of the people, and at the same time, from any affected or unbereturn again to mix with the people, having no coming levity.  We think there must be
more durable preeminence than the different grains
of sand in an hour-glass. Such an assembly can- many more of Dr. Franklin's letters in existnot easily become dangerous to liberty. They are ence, than have yet been given to the public;
the servants of the people, sent together to do the and from the tone and tenor of those which
people's business, and promote the public welfare; we have seen, we are satisfied that they
their powers must be sufficient, or their duties can- would be read with general avidity and imnot be performed. They have no profitable ap- provement.
pointments, but a mere payment of daily wages,   His account of his own life, don to the
such as are scarcely equivalent to their expenses;
so that, having no chance of great places and enor- year 1730, has been in the hands of the pubmous salaries or pensions, as in some countries, lic since 1790. It is written with great simthere is no intriguing or bribing for elections. I plicity and liveliness, though it contains too
wish Old England were as happy in its govern- many trifling details and anecdotes of obscure
ment, but I do not see it. Your people, however, individuals.  It affords however a striking
think their constitution the best in the world, and
affect to despise ours. It is comfortable to have a example of the irresistible force with which
good opinion of one's self, and of every thing that talents and industry bear upwards in society;
belongs to us; to think one's own religion, king, as well as an impressive illustration of the
and wife, the best of all possible wives, kings, and  substantial wisdom and good policy of invariareligions. I remember three Greenlanders, who ble integrity and candour.  We should think
had travelled two years in Europe, under the care it a very useful reading for all young persons
of some Moravian missionaries, and had visited  it a very useful reading  for all young persons
Germany, Denmark, Holland, and England: when of unconfirmed principles, who have their
I asked them at Philadelphia (when they were in fortunes to make or to mend in the world.




(68                     LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
Upon the whole, we look upon the life and qess; and has only been found deficient in
writings of Dr. Franklin as affording a striking those studies which the learned have geneillustration of the incalculable value of a rally turned from in disdain. We would not be
sound and well directed understanding; and understood to say any thing in disparagement
of the comparative uselessness of learning of scholarship and science; but the value
and laborious accomplishments. Without the of these instruments is apt to be over-rated
slightest pretensions to the character of a by their possessors; and it is a wholesome
scholar or a man of science, he has extended mortification, to show them that the work
the bounds of human knowledge on a variety may be done without them. We have long
of subjects, which scholars and men of sci- known that their employment does not insure
ence had previously investigated without suc- its success.
(ieptember,  1515.)
The Works of JONATHAN SWIFT, D. D  Dean of St. Patrick's, Dublin. Containing Addi.
tional Letters, Tracts, and Poems not hitherto published. With Notes, and a life of the Author, by WALTER SCOTT, Esq. 19 vols. 8vo. Edinburgh: 1815.
BY far the most considerable change which that they are declined considerably from I the
has taken place in the world of letters, in our high meridian of their glory,' and may fairly
days, is that by which the wits of Queen be apprehended to be'hastening to their setAnne's time have been gradually brought ting.'  Neither is it time alone that has
down from the supremacy which they had wrought this obscuration; for the fame of
enjoyed, without competition, for the best part Shakespeare still shines in undecaying brightof a century. When we were at our studies, ness; and that of Bacon has been steadily
some twenty-five years ago, we can perfectly advancing and gathering new honours during
remember that every young man was set to the whole period which has witnessed the rise
read Pope, Swift, and Addison, as regularly and decline of his less vigorous successors.
as Virgil, Cicero,and Horace. All who had   There are but two possible solutions for
any tincture of letters were familiar with their phenomena of this sort. Our taste has either
writings and their history; allusions to them  degenerated-or its old models have been
abounded in all popular discourses and all fairly surpassed; and we have ceased to adambitious conversation; and they and their mire the writers of the last century, only becontemporaries were universally acknow- cause they are too good for us-or because
ledged as our great models of excellence, and they are not good enough. Now, we confess
placed without challenge at the head of our we are no believers in the absolute and pernational literature. New books, even when manent corruption of national taste; on the
allowed to have merit, were never thought contrary, we think that it is, of all faculties,
of as fit to be placed in the same class, but that which is most sure to advance and imwere generally read and forgotten, and passed prove with time and experience; and that,
away like the transitory meteors of a lower with the exception of those great physical or
sky; while they remained in their brightness, political disasters which have given a check
and were supposed to shine with a fixed and to civilization itself, there has always been a
unalterable glory.                       sensible progress in this particular; and that
All this, however, we take it, is now pretty the general taste of every successive generawell altered; and in so far as persons of our tion is better than that of its predecessors.
antiquity can judge of the training and habits There are little capricious fluctuations, no
of the rising generation, those celebrated doubt, and fits of foolish admiration or fastiwriters no longer form the manual of our stu- diousness, which cannot be so easily accountdious youth, or enter necessarily into the in- ed for: but the great movements are all prostitution of a liberal education. Their names, gressive: and though the progress consists at
indeed, are still familiar to our ears; but their one time in withholding toleration from gross
writings no longer solicit our habitual notice, faults, and at another in giving their high
and their subjects begin already to fade from  prerogative to great beauties, this alternation
our recollection. Their high privilieges and has no tendency to obstruct the general adproud distinctions, at any rate, have evidently vance; but, on the contrary, is the best and
passed into other hands. It is no longer to the safest course in which it can be conthem that the ambitious look up with envy, ducted.
or the humble with admiration; nor is it in   We are of opinion, then, that the writers
their pages that the pretenders to wit and who adorned the beginning of the last ceneloquence now search for allusions that are tury have been eclipsed by those of our own
sure to captivate, and. illustrations that cannot time; and that they have no chance of ever
be mistaken. In this decay of their reputa- regaining the supremacy in which they have
tion they have few advocates, and no imita- thus been supplanted. There is not, however,
tors: and from a comparison of many obser- in our judgment, any thing very stupendous
rations, it seems to be clearly ascertained, in this triumph of our contemporarinesan




WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT.                               69
the greater wonder with us, is, that it was so beth, it received a copious infusion of classical
-long delayed, and left for them to achieve. images and ideas: but it was still intrinsically
For the truth is, that the writers of the former romantic-serious-and even somewhat lofty
age had not a great deal more than their judg- and enthusiastic. Authors were then so few
ment and industry to stand on; and were in number, that they were looked upon with
always much more remarkable for the few- a sort of veneration, and considered as a kind
ness of their faults than the greatness of their of inspired, persons; at least they were nor
beauties. Their laurels were won much more yet so numerous, as to be obliged to abuse
by good conduct and discipline, than by en- each other, in order to obtain a share of diw
terprising boldness or native force;-nor can tinction for themselves;-and they neither
it be regarded as any very great merit in those affected a tone of derision in their writings,
who had so little of the inspiration of genius, nor wrote in fear of derision from others.
to have steered clear of the dangers to which They were filled with their subjects, and dealt
that inspiration is liable. Speaking generally with them fearlessly in their own way; and
of that generation of authors, it may be said the stamp of originality, force, and freedom,
\that, as poets, they had no force or greatness is consequently upon almost all their producf fancy-no pathos, and no enthusiasm;-  tions. In the reign of James I., our literature,
nd, as philosophers, no comprehensiveness, with some few exceptions, touching rather
tdepth, or originality. They are sagacious, no the form than the substance of its merits, apdoubt, neat. clear, and reasonable; but for pears to us to have reached the greatest perthe most part cold, timid, and superficial. fection to which it has yet attained; though
They never meddle with the great scenes of it would probably have advanced still farther
nature, or the great passions of man; but ntAi th ciecing reign,'hai:fnotthe great nla/
content themselves with just and sarcastic tional dissensions which then arose, turned
representations of city life, and of the paltry the talent and energy of the people into other
passions and meaner vices that are bred in channels-first, to the assertion of their civil
ithat lower element. Their chief care is to rights, and afterwards to the discussion of
avoid being ridiculous in the eyes of the their religious interests. The graces of literaBwitty, and above all to eschew the -ridicule ture suffered of course in those fierce contenof excessive sensibility or enthusiasm-to be tions; and a deeper shade of austerity was
at once witty and rational themselves, with thrown upon the intellectual character of the
as good a grace as possible; but to give their nation. Her genius, however, though less capcountenance to no wisdom, no fancy, and no tivating and adorned than in the happier days
morality, which passes the standards current which preceded, was still active, fruitful, and
in good company. Their inspiration, accord- commanding; and the period of the civil wars,
ingly is little more than a sgrighLyso ort off besides the mighty minds that guided the
gQQ4j-sen; and they have scarcely any in- public councils, and were absorbed in public
vention but what is subservient to the pur- cares, produced the giant powers of Taylor,
poses of derision and satire. Little gleams and Hobbes, and Barrow-the muse of Milof pleasantry, and sparkles of wit, glitter ton-the learning f Coke-and the ingenuity
through their compositions; but no glow of of Cowle. 
feeling-npo blaze of imagination-no flashes  TRe~testoration introduced a French court
f genlus, ever irradiate their substance. They -under circumstances more favourable for
nerer pass beyond( — he visible diurnal the effectual exercise of court influence than.pheref or deal inhany thing that can either ever before existed in England: but this of
lift us above our vulgar nature, or ennoble its itself would not have been sufficient to acreality, With these -'accomplishments, they count for the sudden change in our literature
may pass well enough for sensible and polite which ensued. It was seconded by causes
writers. -but scarcely for men of genius; and of far more general operation. The Restorait-is-'ertainly far more surprising, that per- tion was undo-bubt-ly a popular act; —and,
sons of this description should have maintain- indefensible as the conduct of the army and
ed themselves, for near a century, at the head the civil leaders was on that occasion, there
of the literature of a country that had pre- can be no question that the severities of Cromviously produced a Shakespeare. a Spenser, a well, and the extravagancies of the sectaries,
Bacon, and a Taylor, than that, towards the had made republican professions hateful, and
end of that long period, doubts should have religious ardour ridiculous, in the eyes of a
arisen as to the legitimacy of the title by great proportion of the people. All the emiwhich they laid claim to that high station. nent writers of the preceding period, however,
Both parts of the phenomenon, however, we had inclined to the party that was now overdare say, had causes which better expounders thrown; and their writings had not merely
might explain to the satisfaction of all the been accommodated to the character of the
world. We see them but imperfectly, and government under which they were produced,
have room only for an imperfect sketch of but were deeply imbued with its obnoa...
what we see.                              principles, which were those of their respectOur first literature consisted of saintly le- ive authors. When the restraints of authority
gends, and romances of chivalry,-though were taken off, therefore, and it became proChaucer gave it a more national and popular fitable, as well as popular, to discredit the
character, by his original descriptions of ex- fallen party, it was natural that the leading
ternal nature, and the familiarity and gaiety authors should affect a style of levity and
of his social humour. In the time of Eliza- derision, as most opposite to that of their op



70                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY
ponents, and best calculated for the purposes and to this praise they are justly entilled.
they bad in view. The nation, too, was now  This was left for them to do, and they did it
for the first time essentially divided in point well. They were invited to it by the circumof character and principle, and a much greater stances of their situation, and do not seem to
proportion were capable both of writing in have been possessed of any such bold or vigorsupport of their own notions, and of being in- ous spirit, as either to neglect or to outgo the
fluenced by what was written. Add to all invitation. Coming into life immediately after
this, that there were real and serious defects the consummation of a bloodless revolution,
in the style and manner of the former gener- effected much more by the cool sense, than
ation; and that the grace, and brevity, and the angry passions of the nation, they seem
vivacity of that gayer manner which was now  to have felt that they were born in an age of
ixtrtducad-fromi.France, were not only gj   reason, rather than of feeling or fancy; and
and captivating in themselves, but had then that men's minds, though considerably diall the charms of novelty and of contrast; vided and unsettled upon many points were
and it will not be difficult to understand how  in a much better temper to relish judicious
it came to supplant that which had been es- argument and cutting satire, than the glow
tablished of old in the country, —and that so of enthusiastic passion, or the richness of a
suddenly, that the same generation, among luxuriant imagination. To those accordingly
whom Milton had been formed to the severe they made no pretensions; but, writing with
sanctity of wisdom and the noble independ- infinite good sense, and great grace and vience of genius, lavished its loudest applauses vacity, and, above all, writing for the first
ion the obscenity and servility of such writers time in a tone that was peculiar to the upper,as Rochester and Wycherly.               ranks of society, and upon subjects that were' This change, however, like all sudden almost exclusively interesting to them, they
changes, was too fierce and violent to be long naturally figured, at least while the manner
maintained at the same pitch; and when the was new, as the most accomplished, fashionawits and profligates of King Charles had suf- ble, and perfect writers which the world had
ficiently insulted the seriousness and virtue ever seen; and made the wild, luxuriant, and
of their predecessors, there would probably humble-sweetness of our earlier authors aphave been a revulsion towards the accustomed pear rude and untutored in the comparison.
taste of the nation, had not the party of the Men grew ashamed of admiring, and afraid of
innovators been reinforced by champions of imitating writers of so little skill and smartmore temperance and judgment. The result ness; and the opinion became general, not,seemed at one time suspended on the will only that their faults were intolerable, but
of Dryden-in whose individual person the that even their beauties were puerile and bargenius of the English and of the French school barous, and unworthy the serious regard of a
of literature may be said to have maintained polite and distinguishing age.
ia protracted struggle. But the evil principle   These, and similar considerations, will go
prevailed! Carried by the original bent of far to account for the celebrity which those
his genius, and his familiarity with our older authors acquired in their day; but it is not
models, to the cultivation of our native style, quite so easy to explain how they should
to which he might have imparted more steadi- have so long retained their ascendant. One
ness and correctness —for in force and in cause undoubtedly was, the real excellence
sweetness it was already matchless-he was of their productions, in the style which theytyunluckily seduced by the attractions of fash- had adopted. It was hopeless to think of
ion, and the dazzling of the dear wit and gay surpassing them in that style; and, recomrhetoric in which it delighted, to lend his mended as it was, by the felicity of their exepowerful aid to the new corruptions and re- cution, it required some courage to depart:finements; and in fact, to prostitute his great from it, and to recur to another, which seemed
gifts to the purposes of party rage or licentious to have been go lately abandoned for its sake.':ribaldry.                                The age which succeeded. too. was not the
The sobriety of the succeeding reigns al- age of courage or adventure. There never
Jayed this fever of profanity; but no genius was, on the whole, a quieter time than the
arose sufficiently powerful to break the spell reigns of the two first Georgesa'ind the great-'that still withheld us from the use of our own er part of that which ensued. There were
peculiar gifts and faculties. On the contrary, two little provincial rebellions indeed, and a
it was the unfortunate ambition of the next fair proportion of foreign war; but there was
generation of authors, to improve and perfect nothing to stir the minds of the people at
the new style, rather than to return to the old large, to rouse their passions or excite their
one;-and it cannot be denied that they did imaginations-nothing like the agitations of
improve it. They corrected its gross indecen- the Reformation in the sixteenth century, or
cy-increased its precision and correctness of the civil wars in the seventeenth. They
-— made its pleasantry and sarcasm more pol- went on. accordingly, minding their old busiislied and elegant-and spread through the ness, and reading their old books, with greatX
whole of its irony, its narration, and its re- patience and stupidity: And certainly there
flection, a tone of clear and condensed good never was so remarkable a dearth of original
sense, which recommended itself to all who talent-so long an interregnum of native gehad, and all who had not any relish for higher nius-as during about sixty years in thebeauties.                                 middle of the last century. The dramatic
This is the praise of Queen Anne's wits-  art was dead fifty years before —and poetrj




WORKS OE JOlNATHAN SWIFT.                            7.
seemed verging to a similar extinction. The which it gave occasion-the genius Ed.
few sparks that appeared, too, showed that mund Burke, and some others oT-his land of
the old fire was burnt out, and that the altar'-`frt   iempression of the new literature
must hereafter be heaped with fuel of another of Germany, evidently the original of our
quality. Gray, with the talents, rather of a lake-school of poetry, and many innovations
critic than a kpet-with learning, fastidious- in our drama-the rise or revival of a more?ness, and scrupulous delicacy of taste, instead evangelical spirit,  in the body of the people
of fire, tenderness, or invention-began and Y —a-n-Zi F' s vasst extension of our political and
ended a small school, which we could scarce- commerci1e1a.;which have not only
ly have wished to become permanent, admir- familiarized all ranks of people with distant
able in many respects as some of its produc- countries, and great undertakings, but have
tions are-being far too elaborate and artifi- brought knowledge and enterprise home, not
cial, either for grace or for fluency, and fitter merely to the imagination, but to the actual
to excite the admiration of scholars, than the experience of almost every individual.-All
delight of ordinary men. However, he had these, and several other circumstances, have
the merit of not being in any degree npch  so far improved or excited the character of
and of restoring to our poetry the dignity of our nation, as to have created an effectual
seriousness, and the tone at least of force and demand for more profound speculation, and
energy. The Whartons, both as critics and more serious emotion than was dealt in by
as poets, were of considerable service in dis- the writers of the former century, and which,
crediting the high pretensions of the former if it has not yet produced a corresponding
race, and in bringing back to public notice supply in all branches, has at least had the
the great stores and treasures of poetry which effect of decrying the commodities that were
lay hid in the records of our older literature. previously in vogue, as unsuited to the altered
Akenside attempted a sort of classical and condition of the times.
hilosophical rapture, which no elegance of   Of those ingenious writers, whose characlanguage could easily have rendered popular teristic certainly was not vi our, any more
but which had merits of no vulgar order for than tendersni"ss -or an    was indisthose who could study it. Goldsmith wrote putably the most vigorous-and perhaps the
with perfect elegance and beau-y, in a style least tender or fanciful. The greater part of
of mellow tenderness and elaborate simplici- his works being occupied with politics and
ty. He had the harmony of Pope without his personalities that have long since lost all inquaintness, and his selectness of diction with- terest. can now attract but little attention,
out his coldness and eternal-viacit And   except as memorials of the manner in Wvhich
last of all, came Cowip,    as y s e of cornm- politics and personalities were then conductplete originality, —and, for the first time, made ed. In other parts, however, there is a vein
it apparent to readers of all descriptions, that of peculiar humour and strong satire, which
Pope and Addison were no longer to be the will always be agreeable-and a sort of>.
models of English poetry.                heartiness of abuse and contempt of mankind,
In philosophy and prose writing in general, which produces a greater sympathy and anil
the case was nearly parallel. The name of mation in the reader than the more elaborate
Hume is by far the most considerable which sarcasms that have since come into fashion.
occurs in the period to which we have al- Altogether his merits appear to be more unique
luded. But, though his thinking was English, and inimitable than those of any of his conhis style is entirely French; and being natu- temporaries; and as his works are connected.rally of a cold fancy, there is nothing of that in many parts with historical events which it
eloquence or richness about him, which char- must always be of importance to understand,
acterizes the writings of Taylor, and Hooker, we conceive that there are none, of which a
and Baccn —-r.d continues, with less weight new and careful edition is soslikely to be acof matter, to please in those of Cowley and ceptable to the public, or so worthy to engage
Clarendon. A)arburton had great powers; the attention of a person qualified for the
and wrote vith more force and freedom than undertaking. In this respect, the projectors
the wits to whom  he succeeded-but his of the present publication must be considered
faculties were perverted by a paltry love of as eminently fortunate-the celebrated perparadox, and rendered useless to mankind by son who has here'condescended to the funoan unlucky choice of subjects, and the arro- tions of an editor, being almost as much
gance and dogmatism of his temper. A     distinguished for the skill and learning re.
~BQvwas nearly the first who made deper' quired for that humbler office, as for the
reasonings and more exact knowledge popu- creative genius which has given such unexlar among us; and Junius and Johnson the ampled popularity to his original compositions
first who again familiarized us with more -and uniting to the minute knowledge and
glowing and sonorous diction-and made us patient research of the Malones and Chalfeel the    e   nd      ss of the serious merses, a vigour of judgment and a vivacity
style of           wt.                   of style to which they had no pretensions.
This brings us down almost to the present In the exercise of these comparatly humble
times-in which the revolution in our litera- functions, he has acquitted himself, we think,
ture has been accelerated   onfirmed by on the present occasion, with great judg-ment
the concurrence of many causes. The agita- and ability. The edition, upon the whole, is
ions of the Frenoas volution, and the discus- much better than that of Dryden. It is less
sions as well. as thehopes and terrors to loaded with long notes and illustrative quota.




7t                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
tions; wl:ile it furnishes all the information Ifax; and, under that ministry, the members
that can reasonably be desired, in a simple of which he courted in private and defended
and compendious form. It contains upwards in public, he received church preferment to
of a hundred letters, and other original pieces the value of near 4001. a year (equal at least
of Swift's never before published —and, among to 12001. at present), with the promise of still
the rest, all that has been preserved of his farther favours. He was dissatisfied, howcorrespondence with the celebrated Vanessa. ever, because his livings were not in England;
Explanatory notes and remarks are supplied and having been sent over on the affairs of
with great diligence to all the passages over the Irish clergy in 1710, when he found the
which time may have thrown any obscurity; Whig ministry in a tottering condition, he
and the critical observations that are prefixed temporized for a few months, till he saw that
to the more considerable productions, are, their downfal was inevitable; and then, withwith a reasonable allowance for an editor's out even the pretext of any public motive,
partiality to his author, very candid and in- but on the avowed ground of not having been
genious.                                  sufficiently rewarded for his former services,
The Life is not every where extremely well he went over in the most violent and decided
written, in a literary point of view; but is manner to the prevailing party; for whose
drawn up, in substance, with great intelli- gratification he abused his former friends and
pence, liberality, and good feeling. It is quite benefactors, with a degree of virulence and.air and moderate in politics; and perhaps rancour, to which it would not be too much
rather too indulgent and tender towards indi- to apply the term of brutalit y  and, in the
viduals of all descriptions-more full, at least, end, when the approaching-teath of the
of kindness and veneration for genius and Queen, and their internal dissensions made
social virtue, than of indignation at baseness his services of more importance to his new
and profligacy. Altogether, it is not much friends, openly threatened to desert them also,
like the production of a mere man of letters, and retire altogether from the scene, unless
or a fastidious speculator in sentiment and they made a suitable provision for him; and
morality; but exhibits throughout, and in a having, in this way, extorted the deanery of
very pleasing form, the good sense and large St. Patrick's, which he always complained
toleration of a man of the world-with much of as quite inadequate to his merits, he counof that generous allowance for the        selled measures that must have involved the' Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise,"   country in a civil war, for the mere chance
of keeping his party in power; and, finally.
which genius too often requires, and should on the Queen;s death, retired in a state of
therefore always be most forward to show. despicable despondency and bitterness to his
It is impossible, however. to avoid noticing, living, where he continued, to the end of his
that Mr. Scott is by far too favourable to the life to libel liberty and mankind with unreTersonal character of his author; whom we lenting and pitiable rancour-to correspond
t hink, it would really be injurious to the cause with convicted traitors to the constitution they
of morality to allow to pass, either as a very had sworn to maintain-and to lament as the
qdignified or a very amiable person. The truth worst of calamities, the dissolution of a minisis, we think, that he was extremely ambi- try which had no merit but that of having
tious, arrogant, and selfish; of a morose, vin- promised him advancement, and of which
dictive, and haughty temper; and, though several of the leading members immediately
capable of a sort of patronizing generosity indemnified themselves by taking office in
towards his dependants, and of some attach- the court of the Pretender.
ment towards those who had long known and   As this part of his conduct is passed over a
flattered him, his general demeanour, both in great deal too slightly by his biographer; and
public and private life, appears to have been as nothing can be more pernicious than the
far from exemplary. Destitute of temper and notion, that the political sins of eminent per.
magnanimity-and, we will add, of principle, sons should be forgotten in the estimate of
in the former; and, in the latter, of tender- their merits, we must beg leave to verify the
ness, fidelity, or compassion.            comprehensive sketch we have now given, by
The transformation of a young Whig into a few references to the documents that are to
an old Tory-the gradual falling off of pru- be found in the volumes before us. Of his
dent men from unprofitable virtues, is. per- original Whig professions, no proof will prohaps, too common an occurrence, to deserve bably be required; the fact being notorious,
much notice, or justify much reprobation. and admitted by all his biographers. Abundant
But Swift's desertion of his first principles evidence, however, is furnished by his first
was neither gradual nor early-and was ac- successful pamphlet in defence of Lord Socomplished under such circumstancesas really mers, and the other Whig lords impeached in
require to be exposed a little, and cannot well 1701; —by his own express declaration in
be passed over in a fair account of his life another work (vol. iii. p. 240). that "having
and character. He was bred a Whig under been long conversant with the Greek and
Sir William Temple-he took the title pub- Latin authors, and therefore a lover of liberty,
licly in various productions; and, during all he was naturally inclined to be what they call
the reign of King William, was a strenuous, a Whig in politics;" —by the copy of verses
and indeed an intolerant advocate of Revolu- in which he deliberately designates himself
tion principles and Whig pretensions. His "a Whig, and one who wears a gown;" —by
frst patrons were Somers, Hortland, and Hali- his exulting statement to Tisdal, whom he




WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT.                                   73
leproaches with being a Tory, and says-" To vowing revenge.;> In a few weeks after-'cool your insolence a little, know that the the change being by that time complete —he
Queen. and Court, and House of Lords, and takes his part definitively, and makes his aphalf the Commons almost, are Whigs, and the proaches to Harley, in a manner which we
number daily increases:"-And, among in- should really imagine no rat of the present
numerable other proofs, by the memorable day would have confidench"ough to imitate.
verses on Whitehall, in which, alluding to the In mentioning his first interview  with that
execution of King Charles in front of that eminent person, he says, "I had prepared
building, he is pleased to say, with more zeal him before by another hand, where he was
than good prosody,                           very intimate, and  got myself represented
"That theatre produced an action truly great,  (which I might justly do) as one extremely ill
On which eternal acclamations wait," &c.    used by the last ministry, after some obligation,
Such being the principles, by the zealous because I refused to go certain lengths they
profession of which he had first obtained dis- would have me."  (Vol. xv. p. 350.) About
tinction and preferment, and been admitted  the same period, he gives us farther lights
to the friendship of such men as Somers, Ad- into the conduct of this memorable converdison, and Steele, it only remains to be seen sion, in the following passages of the Journal
on what occasion, and on what considerations,
he afterwardsrenouncedthem.   Itisofitself    " Oct. 7. He (Harley) told me he must bring
he afterwards renounced them. It is of itsel.f  Mr. St. John and me acquainted; and spoke so
a tolerably decisive fact, that this change many things of personal kindness and esteem, that
took place  just when the Whig ministry went I am inclined to believe what some friends had told
out of power, and their adversaries came into me, that he would do every thing to bringo me over.
full possession of all the patronage and inter- He desired me to dine with him on Tuesaay; and,
after four hours being with him, set me down at
est of: the government. The whole matter, St. James's coffee-house in a Hackney-coach.
however, is fairly spoken out in various parts        I must tell you a great piece of refinement in
of his own writings:-and we do not believe  Harley. He charged me to come and see him
there is anywhere on record a more barefaced  often; I told him I was loath to trouble him, in so
avowal of political apostasy, undisguised and much business as he had, and desired I might have
unpalliatedby the slightest colour or pretenceleave to come at his levee; which he immediately
of unpaublic or conscientious motives. It is quite refused, and said,' That was no place for friends.'
of public or conscientious motives. It is quite   "I believe never was any thing compassed so
a singular fact, we believe. in the history of soon: and purely done by my personal credit with
this sort of conversion, that he nowhere pre- Mr. Harley; who is so excessively obliging, that 1
tends to say that he had become aware of any.;now not what to make of it, unless to shew the rasdanger to the country from the continuance cals of the other party, that they used a man unworof the Whig ministrynor ever presumes to thily who had deserved better. He speaks all the
of the Whig ministry —nor ever presumes to kindtnlIng's of me in the world.-Oct. 14. I stand
call in question the patriotism or penetration  with the new people ten times better than ever I.of Addison and the rest of his former asso- did with the old, and forty times more caressed."
ciates, who remained faithful to their first Life, vol. i. p. 126.
professions. His only apology, in short, for   "Nov. 8. Why should the Whigs think I came
this' sudden dereliction  of the  prii; -cs to England to leave them? But who the devil cares
which he had maintained for near forty years what they think? Am 1 under obligations in the
which he had maintained for near forty years least to any of them all? Rot them, ungrateful
-for it was at this ripe age that he got the dogs. I will! make them repent their usage of me,
first glimpse of his youthful folly-is a pre- before I leave this place. They say the same thing
tence of ill usage from the party with whom  here of my leaving the Whigs; but they own they
he-ahd held thiemn;-a pretence-to say nothing cannot blame me, considering the treatment I have
of its inherent-baseness-which appears to be had," &c. &
utterly without foundation. and of which it is   If he  really ever scrupled about going
enough to say, that no mention is made, till lengths with his Whig friends (which we do.that same party is overthrown. While they believe). he seems to have resolved, that his
remain in office, they have full credit for the fortune should not be hurt by any delicacy of
sincerity of their good wishes (see vol. xv. p. this sort in his new connection;-for he took
250, &c. ):-and it is not till it becomes both up the cudgels this time with the ferocity of
safe and profitable to abuse them, that we a hireling, and the rancour of a renegade. In
hear of their ingratitude. Nay, so critically  taking upon himself the conduct of the paper
and judiciously timed is this discovery of called "The Examiner," he gave a new char.
their unworthiness, that even after the worthy acter of acrimony and bitterness to the ccaauthor's arrival in London in 1710, when the tention in which he mingled-and not only
movements had begun which terminated in made the most furious and unmeasured attheir ruin, he continues, for some months, to tacks upon the body of the party to which it had.
keep on fair terms with them, and does not formerly been his boast that he belonged, but
give way to his well considered resentment, singled out, with a sort of savage discourtesy,
till it is quite apparent that his interest must a variety of his former friends and benefacgain by. the indulgence.  He says, in the tot, and made them, by name and descripJournal to Stella, a few days after his arrival, tion, the objects of the most malignant abuse.
"The Whigs would gladly lay hold on me, as Lord Somers, Godolphin, Steele, and many
a twig, while they are drowning-and their others.with whom he had formerly lived in
great men are making me their clumsy apolo- intimacy, and from whom he had received
gies.  But my Lord Treasurer (Godolphin) obligations, were successively attacked in pubreceived me with a great deal of coldness  lic with the most rancorous personalities, and
which has enraged me so, that I am almost often with the falsest insinuations: In short,




74                       I LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
as he has himself emphatically expressed it substantially absolute by the assistanc~ of a
in the Journal, he "libelled them all round." military force, in order to make it impossible
While he was thus abusing men he could not that their principles should ever again acquire
have ceased to esteem, it is quite natural, and a preponderance in the country. It is imposin course, to find him professing the greatest sible, we conceive, to give any other meanaffection for those he hated and despised. A  ing to the advice contained in his "Free
thorough partisan is a thorough despiser of Thoughts on the State of Affairs," which he
sincerity; and no man seems to have got over wrote just before the Queen's death, and
that weakness more completely than the rev- which Bolingbroke himself thought too strong
erend person before us. In every page of for publication, even at that critical period.
the Journal to Stella, we find a triumphant His leading injunction there is to adopt a sysstatement of things he was writing or saying tem  of the most rigorous exclusion of all
to the people about him, in direct contradic- Whigs from every kind of employment; and
tion to his real sentiments. We may quote a that, as they cannot be too much or too soon
line or two from the first passage that pre- disabled, they ought to be proceeded against
sents itself. "'I desired my Lord Radnor's with as strong measures as can possibly conbrother to let my lord know I would call on sist with the lenity of our government; so
him at six, which I did; and was arguing that in no time to come it should be in the
with him three hours to bring him over to us; power of the Crown, even if it wished it, to
and I spoke so closely, that I believe he will choose an ill majority in the House of Comjbe tractable. But he is a scoundrel; and mons. This great work, he adds very explicthough Isaid I only talked from my love to him, itly, could only be well carried on by an
I told a lie; for I did not care if he were hang- entire new-modelling of the army: and espe-:ed: but every one gained over is of conse- cially of the Royal Guards,-which, as they
quence. "-Vol. iii. p. 2. We think there are then stood, he chooses to allege were fitter to
not many even of those who have served a guard a prince to the bar of a high court of
regular apprenticeship to corruption and job- justice, than to secure him  on the throne.
bing, who could go through their base task (Vol. v..p. 404.) This, even Mr. Scott is so
wi'h more coolness and hardihood than this little able to reconcile with the alleged Whig
pious neophyte.                           principles of his author, that he is forced to
These fewreferencesare, of themselves, suf- observe upon it, that it is "daring, uncomficient to show the spirit and the true motives promising counsel; better suited to the genius
of this dereliction of his first principles; and of the man who gave it, than to that of the
seem  entirely to exclude the only apology British nation, and most likely, if followed, to
which the partiality of his biographer has have led to a civil war."  After this admisbeen able to suggest, viz. that though, from  sion, it really is not very easy to understand
first to last, a Whig in politics, he was all by what singular stretch of charity the learnalong still more zealously a High-Church- ed editor conceives he may consistently hold]
man as to religion; and left the Whigs merely that Swift was always a good Revolutiol
because the Tories seemed more favourable to Whig as to politics, and only sided with thy
ecclesiastical pretensions. It is obvious, how- Tories-reluctantly, we must suppose, and
ever, that this is quite inadmissible. The with great tenderness to his political oppWhigs were as notoriously connected with the nents-out of his  verpo  ring zeal for tl4
Low-Church party when he joined and de- Church.:,.I
fended them, as when he deserted and re-   While he tus stooped to the dirtiest and
viled them;-nor is this anywhere made the most dishonourable part of a partisan's drudgespecific ground tIhis revilings. It would not ry, it was not to be expected that he should
have been very easy, indeed, to have asserted decline any of the mean arts by which a Court
such a principle as the motive of his libels on party may be maintained. Accordingly, we
the Earl of Nottingham, who, though a Whig, find him regular in his attendance upon Mrs.
was a zealous High-Churchman, or his eulo- Masham, the Queen's favourite; and, after
gies on Bolinabroke, who was pretty well reading the contemptuous notices that occur
iknown to be no churchman at all. It is plain  of her in some of his Whig letters, as ":one
indeed, that Swift's High-Church principles of the Queen's dressers, who, by great inwere all along but a part of his selfishness and trigue and flattery, had gained an ascendant
ambition; and meant nothing else than a de- over her,d it is very edifying to find him
sire to raise the consequence of the order to writing periodical accounts of the progress of
which he happened to belong. If he had her pregnancy, and " praying God to preserve
been a layman, we have no doubt he would her life, which is of great importance to this
have treated the pretensions of the priesthood, nation," &c. &c.
as he treated the persons of all priests who   A connection thus begun upon an avowed
were opposed to him, with the most bitter dissatisfaction with the reward of former
and irreverent disdain. Accordingly, he is so services, cannot, with consistency, be supfar from ever recommending Whig principles posed to have had any thing but self-interest
of government to his High-Chuich friends, or as its foundation: and though Swift's love of
from confining his abuse of the Whigs to their power, and especially of the power of wound.
tenets in matters ecclesiastical, that lie goes ing, was probably gratified by his exertions
the whole length of proscribing the party, and in behalf of the triumphant party, no room is
proposing, with the desperation of a true left for doubting that these exertions were
apostate, that the Monarch should be made substantially prompted by a desire to better




WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT                                    75
his own fortune, and that his opinion of the here; and then I will drive themn to give me a
merits of the party depended entirely upon sum of money."  And a little after-" I shall
their power and apparent inclination to per- be sadly cramped, unless the Queen will give
form this first of all duties. The thing is me a thousand pounds. I am sure she owes
spoken out continually in the confidential me a great deal more. Lord Treasurer rallies
Journal to Stella; and though he was very me upon it, and, I am  sure, intends it-but
angry with Harley for offering him  a bank quando?" And again-" Lord Treasurer uses
note for fifty pounds, and refused to be his me barbarously. He, laughs when I mention a
chaplain, this was very plainly because he thousand pounds-though a thousand pounds
considered these as no sufficient pay for his is a very serious thing." It appears, however
services-by no means because he wished to that this modest request never was complied
serve without pay. Very soon after his pro- with; for, though Bolingbroke got the Queen's
fessin of Toryism  he writes to Stella-" This warrant for it, to secure Swift's attachment
is the last sally I shall ever make; but I hope after he had turned out Harley, yet her mait will turn to some account.  I have done more  jesty's immediate death rendered the gift
for these, and I think they are more honest unavailing.
than the last." And a little after —" My new    If any thing were wanting to show that his
friends are very kind; and I have promises change of party and his attachment to that
enough.  To return without some mark of which was now uppermost, was wholly foundistinction, would look extremely little; and ded on personal, and in no degree on public
I would likewise gladly be somewhat richer than considerations, it would be supplied by the,
I am." At last, he seems to have fairly asked innumerable traits of personal vanity, and the/
for the see of Hereford (Vol. xvi. p. 45.); and unrestrained expressions of eulogy or abuse,
when this is refused, he says, "I dined with according as that vanity was gratified or
Lord Treasurer, who chid me for being absent thwarted, that are scattered over the whole
three days. Mighty kind with a p-! Less journal and correspondence,-and which are
of civility, and more of interest!" At last, utterly irreconcileable with the conduct of a
when the state of the Queen's health made man who was acting on any principle of digthe duration of the ministry extremely pre- nity or fairness. With all his talent and all
carious, and the support of their friends more his pride, indeed, it appears that Swift exessential, he speaks out like a true Swiss, and hibited, during this period of favour, as much
tells them  that he will run away and leave of the ridiculous airs of a parvenu-of a lowthem, if they do not instantly make a provi- bred underling brought suddenly into contact
sion for him. In the Journal to Stella, he with wealth and splendour, as any of the base
writes, that having seen the warrants for three understrappers that ever made party disgustdeaneries, and none of them for him, he had ing. The studied rudeness and ostentatious
gone to the Lord Treasurer, and " told him I arrogance with which he withheld the usual
had nothing to do but to go back to Ireland  tribute of respect that all well-bred persons
immediately; for I could not, with any reputa- pay to rank and office, may be reckoned
tion, stay longer here, unless I had something among the signs of this. But for a fuller pichonourable immediately given to me. He after- ture, we Would refer to the Diary of Bishop
wards told me he had stopped the warrants, Kennet, who thus describes the demeanour
and hoped something might be compassed for of this politic partisan in the year 1713.
me," &c. And in the page following we find
that all his love for his dear friend the Lord   " Dr. Swift came into the coffee-house, and had a
Treha  a  ll                his love for his dear friendver to see Lord bow from every body but me. When I came to
Treasurer) would not induce him ever to see the antichamber to wait before prayers, Dr. Swift
him again, if he was disappointed in this ob- was the principal man of talk and business, and
ject of ambition.  "The warrants for the acted as a master of requests. He was soliciting
deaneries are still stopped, for fear I should  the Earl of Arran to speak to his brother the Duke
be gone. Do you think any thing will be of Ormond, to get a chaplain's place established in
done  In the mean time    prepare for my the garrison of Hull for Mr. Fiddes, a clergyman in
one   In the mean time, I prepare for m   that neighbourhood, who had lately been in jail, and
journey. and see no great people;-nor will  published sermons to pay fees. He was promising
sez LorrD Treasurer any more, if I go." (Vol. iii. Mr. Thorold to undertake with my Lord Treasurer,
p. 207.) It is under this threat that he extorts that, according to his petition, he should obtain a
the Deanery of St. Patrick's,-which he ac- salary of 2001. per annum as minister of the English
cepts with much grumbling and discontent, church at Rotterdam. He stopped F. Gwynne,
and does not enter into possession till all hope Esq., going in with the red bag to the Queen, and
n des not enter intopossession till all hope told him aloud he had something to say to him from
e.' better preferment seems for the time at an my Lord Treasurer. He talked with the son of
end. In this extremity he seems resolved, Dr. Davenant to be sent abroad, and took out his
however, to make the most of it; and finding pocket-book, and wrote down several things, as
that the expenses of his induction and the memoranda, to do for him. He turned to the fire,
usual payments to government on the occa- and took out his gold watch, and telling the time of
the day, complained it wasvery late. A gentleman
sion come to a considerable sum, he boldly  said' he was too fast.'-' How can I help it,' says
resolves to ask a thousand pounds from  the the doctor,' if the courtiers give me a watch that
ministers, on the score of his past services, in won't go right?' Then he instructed a young noorder to make himself easy. This he an- bleman, that the best poet in England was Mr.
nournces to Stella soon after the appointment. Pope (a papist), who had begun a translation of
"I hope in time they will be persuaded to FHomer into English verse, for which'he must have
hope in time they will be persuaded to them all subscribe;' —'for,' says he,'the authot
give me some money to clear off these debts. shall not begin to print till I have a thousand guineas
They expect I shall pass the next winter for him.' Lord Treasurer, afterleaving the Queena




76                        LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
came throcgh the room, beckoning Dr. Swift to decessor in vain. The following, too, are the
follow him: both went off just before prayers."-  terms in which Bolingbroke, at that very time
Life, vol. i. p. 139, 140.                   thought there was no impropriety, and could
We are very unwilling, in any case, to as- be no offence, in writing of Oxford, in a pricribe to unworthy motives, what may be suf- vate confidential letter to this his dear deficiently accounted for upon better considera- voted friend.  "Your state of late passages is
tions; but we really have not charity enough right enough. I reflect upon them with into impute Swift's zealous efforts to prevent the' dignation; and shall never forgive myself for
rupture between Harley and Bolingbroke, or having trusted so long to so much real pride
his continued friendship with both after that and awkward humility;-to an air of such farupture took place, to his personal and disin- miliar friendship, and a heart so void of all
terested affection for those two individuals. tenderness;-to such a temper of engrossing
In the first place, he had a most manifest in- business and power, and so perfect an incaterest to prevent their disunion, as that which pacity to manage one, with such a tyrannical
plainly tended to the entire dissolution of the disposition to abuse the other," &c. &c. (VoL
ministry, and the ruin of the party on which xvi. p. 219.) If Swift's feelings for Oxford had
he depended; and, as to his remaining the borne any resemblance to those which lMr.
friend of both after they had become the most Scott has imputed to him, it is not conceivrancorous enemies of each other, it must be able that he should have continued upon a
remembered that they were still respectively footing of the greatest cordiality with the man
the two most eminent individuals with whom  who, after supplanting him, could speak in
he had been connected; and that, if ever that those terms of his fallen rival. Yet Swift's
party should be restored to power, from which friendship, as they called it, with Bolingbroke
alone he could now look for preferment, he continued as long as that with Oxford; and
who stood well with both these statesmen we find him  not only giving him  his advice
would have a double chance of success. Con- how to act in the government which had now
sidering, indeed, the facility with which he fallen entirely into his hands, but kindly ofseems to have cast off friendships far more fering, "if his own services may be of any
intimate than the inequality of their condition use, to attend him  by the beginning of winrenders it possible that those of Oxford or Bo- ter." (Id. p. 215.)  Those who know of what
lingbroke could be with him, whenever party  stuff political friendships are generally made,
interest interfered with them; —considering irideed, will not require even this evidence to
the disrespect with which he spoke of Sir prove the hollowness of those in which Swift
William Temple's memory, after he had ab- was now connected. The following passage,
jured his principles; —the coarseness with  in a letter from Lewis, the most intimate and
which he calls Lord Somers " a false deceit- confidential of all his coadjutors, dated only a
ful rascal," after having designated him as the week or two before Oxford's disgrace, gives a
modern Aristides for his blameless integrity; delicious picture, we think, of the whole of
-and the unfeeling rancour with which he those persons for whom the learned Dean was
exposes the personal failings and pecuniary thus professing the most disinterested attachembarrassments of Steele, with whom he had ment, and receiving, no doubt, in return, probeen long so closely united; —it would seem  fessions not less animated and sincere. It is
to require something more than the mere per- addressed to Swift in July, 1714.
sonal attachment of a needy pamphleteer to
two rival peers, to account for his expressions  pon any probable grounds to judge who will carry
of affection for both after one had supplanted  upon any probable grounds to judge who will carry
of affection for both, after one had supplanted the great point. Our female friend (Mrs. Masham)
the other. The natural solution, indeed, fold the dragon (Lord Oxford) in her own house,
seems to lie sufficiently open. After the per- last Thursday morning, these words:'You never
fidyhe had shown to the Whig party, and the did the Queen any service, nor are you capable of
virulence with which he had revenged his doing her any.' He made no reply, but supped
with her and'11ercurialis (Bolingbroke) that night
own apostasy, there was no possibility of his with her and 1lIercurialis (Bolingbroke) that night
bein     reeie   by them   Hi  ol  at her own house.-His revenge is not the less medi.
being again received by them. His only tated for that. He tells the words clearly and dischance, therefore, was in the restoration of the tinctly to all mankind. Those who range under his
Tories, and his only policy to keep well with banner, call her ten thousand bitches and kitchenboth their great leaders.                    wenches. Those who hate him do the same. And
Mr. Scott, indeed, chooses to represent him  from my heart, I grieve that she should give such
as actuated by a romantic attachment to Lord a loose to her passion; for she is susceptible of true
as actuated by a romantic attachment to Lord firiendship, and has many social and domestic virOxford, and pronounces an eloquent encomium  tues. The great attorney (Lord Chancellor IHar.
on his devoted generosity in applying for court) who made you the sham offer of the Yorkleave of absence, upon that nobleman's dis- shire living, had a long conference with the dragon
grace, in order to be able to visit him  in his on Thursday, kissed him at parting, and cursed him
retirement. Though he talks of such a visit     night!"-vol. xvi. p. 173, }
however, it is certain that he never did pay    The death of Queen An4ui6,however, which
it; and that he was all the time engaged in happened on the 1st of August thereafter
the most friendly correspondence with Bo- speedily composed all those dissensions, and
lingbroke, from whom  the very day after he confounded the victors and the vanquished in
had kicked out his dear friend with the most one common proscription. Among the most
undisguised anger and contempt, he conde- miserable and downcast of all the mourners
scended to receive an order for the thousand  on that occasion, we confess we were some.
pounds lie had so long solicited from his pre- what surprised to find our reverend author,




WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT.                              77'He who, but a few months before, was willing good office for the other, in the most insult.
to have hazarded all the horrors of a civil war, ing and malignant manner he could devise:
for the chance of keeping his party in office, and yet the worthy Dean had charity enough
sunk instantlyinto pitiable and unmanly des- to love them both just as dearly as ever. He
pondency upon the final disgrace of that party. was always a zealous advocate, too, for the
We are unwilling to believe and we do not Act of Setlement; and has in twenty places
m fact believe, that Swift was privy to the de- expressed his abomination of all who could
signs of Bolingbroke, Ormond, and Mar, to allow themselves to think of the guilt of callbring in the Pretender on the Queen's demise, ing in the Pretender. If, therefore, he could
and are even disposed to hold it doubtful love and honour and flatter Bolingbroke, who
whether Oxford concurred in those measures; not only turned out his beloved Oxford, but
but we are sure that no man of common firm- actually went over to the Pretender, it is nort
ness could have felt more sorrow and despair, easy to see why he should have been so imif the country had been conquered by a law- placable towards those older friends of his,
less invader, than this friend of the Act of who only turned out Bolingbroke in order to
Settlement did upon the quiet and regular prevent the Pretender from being brought in.
transmission of the sceptre to the appointed On public grounds, in short, there is nothing
heir; and the discomfiture of those ministers to be said for him; —nor can his conduct or
who are proved to have traitorously conspired feelings ever receive any explanation upon
to accomplish a counter revolution, and re- such principles. But every thing becomes
store a dynasty which he always affected to plain and consistent when we look to another
consider as justly rejected. How all this sor- quarter —when we consider, that by the exrow is to be reconciled to the character of a tinction of the Tory party, his hopes of pregood Revolution Whig, we leave it to the ferment were also extinguished; and that he
learned editor, who has invested him with was no longer to enjoy the dearer delight of
that character, to discover. To us it merely bustling in the front of a triumphant partylaffords new evidence of the selfishness and of inhaling the incense of adulation from its
ambition of the individual, and of that utter servile dependants-and of insulting with imLnd almost avowed disregard of the public, punity the principles and the benefactors he
khich constituted his political character. Of had himself deserted.
the sorrow and despondency itself, we need   That this was the true key to his feelings,
produce no proofs,-for they are to be found on this and on every other occasion, may be
m  every page of his subsequent writings. concluded indeed with safety, not only from,
His whole life, indeed, after this event, was his former, but from his after life.  His Irish
one long fit of spleen and lamentation: and, politics may all be referred to one principleto the very end of his days, he never ceases a desire to insult and embarrass the governbewailing the irreparable and grievous calam- ment by which he was neglected, and with 
ity which the world had suffered in the death which he despaired of being reconciled:-A
of that most imbecile princess. He speaks single fact is decisive upon this point. While
of it. in short, throughout, as a pious divine his friends were in power, we hear nothing
might be supposed to speak of the fall of of the grievances of Ireland; and to the last
primeval man from the state of innocence. we hear nothing of its radical grievance, the
The sun seems darkened for ever in his eyes, oppression of its Catholic population.  His
and mankind degenerated beyond the tolera- object was, not to do good to Ireland, but to.
tion of one who was cursed with the remem- vex and annoy the English ministry. To doA
brance of their former dignity! And all this this however with effect, it was necessary
for what?-because the government was, with that he should speak to the interests and the
the full assent of the nation, restored to the feelings of some party who possessed a cer.
hands of those whose talents and integrity he tain degree of power and influence.  This
had once been proud to celebrate-or rather, unfortunately was not the case in that day
because it was taken from those who would with the Catholics; and though this gave them
have attempted, at the evident risk of a civil only a stronger title to the services of a truly
war to defeat that solemn settlement of which brave or generous advocate, it was sufficient
he had always approved, and in virtue of to silence Swift. They are not so much as
which alone the late Sovereign had succeed- named above two or three times in his writed;-because the liberties of the nation were ings-and then only with scorn and reprobaagain to be secured in peace, under the same tion. In the topics which he does take up, it
councils which had carried its glories so high is no doubt true, that he frequently inveighs
in war-and the true friends of the Revolution against real oppression and acts of indisputof 1688 to succeed to that patronage which able impolicy; yet it is no want of charity to
had previously been exercised by its virtual say, that it is quite manifest that these were
enemies! Such were the public calamities not his reasons for bringing them forward, and
which he had to lament as a patriot; —and that he had just as little scruple to make an
the violence done to his political attachments outcry where no public interest was concernseems to have been of the same character. ed, as where it was apparent. It was suffiHis two friends were Bolingbroke and Ox- cient for him, that the subject was likely to
ford: and both these had been abusing each excite popular prejudice and clamour, —or'ther, and endeavouring to supplant each that he had some personal pique or animosity
ather, with all their might, for a long period to gratify. The Drapier's letters are a suffi
ot time; —and, at last, one of them did this cient proof of the influence of the former




78                       LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
principle; and the Legion Club, and the num- even the inconsistencies of honest minds, we
berless brutalities against Tighe and Bettes- hope we shall always be sufficiently indulgent;
worth, of the latter.  Every body is now  and especially to such errors in practical life
satisfied of the perfect harmlessness, and in- as are incident to literary and ingenious men.
deed of the great utility of Wood's scheme For Swift, however, there is no such apology.
for a new copper coinage; and tffb only pre- His profession, through life, was much more
texts for the other scurrilities to which we that of a politician than of a clergyman or an
have alluded were, that the Parliament had author. He was not led away in any degree
shown a disposition, to interfere for the alle- by heated fancy, or partial affection —by de.
viation, in some inconsiderable particulars, of luding visions of impossible improvements, or
the intolerable oppression of the tithe system, excessive indignation at incurable vices. He
-to the detriment, as Swift imagined, of the followed, from first to last, the eager, but
order to which he himself belonged; and that steady impulse of personal ambition and perMr. Tighe had obtained for a friend of his sonal animosity; and in the dirty and devious
own, a living which Swift had wished to se- career into which they impelled him, he never
cure for one of his dependants.           spared the character or the feelings of a single
His main object in all this, we make no individual who appeared to stand in his way.
doubt, was personal pique and vengeance;-  In no respect, therefore, can he have any
yet it is probable, that there was occasionally, claim to lenity; —and now, when his faults
or throughout, an expectation of being again are of importance only as they may serve the
brought into the paths of power and prefer- purpose of warning or misleading to others,
ment, by the notoriety which these publica- we consider it as our indispensable duty 
tions enabled him to maintain, and by the point them out in their    cor  s; an to
motives which they held out to each succes- show that, even when united to talents as
sive ministry, to secure so efficient a pen in distinguished as his, political profligacy and
their favour. That he was willing, to have political rancour must lead to universal dismade his peace with Walpole, even during trust and avoidance during the life of the inthe reign of George I., is admitted by Mr. dividual, and to contempt and infamy thereScott,-though he discredits the details which after.
Lord Chesterfield and others have given, ap-   Of Swift's personal character, his ingenious
parently from very direct authority, of the biographer has given almost as partial a rephumiliating terms upon which he was willing resentation, as of his political conduct; —a
to accede to the alliance; —and it is certain, great part of it indeed has been anticipated,
that he paid his court most assiduously to the in tracing the principles of that conduct; —
successor of that Prince, both while he was the same arrogance and disdain of mankind,
Prince of Wales, and after his accession to leading to profligate ambition and scurrility in
the throne. The manner in which he paid public life, and to domineering and selfish
his court, too, was truly debasing, and espe- habits in private. His character seems to have
cially unworthy of a High-Churchman and a been radically overbearing and tyrannical —
public satirist. It was chiefly by flatteries for though, like other tyrants, he could stoop
-and assiduity to his mistress, Mrs. Howard! low enough where his interests required it,.it
with whom he maintained a close correspond- was his delight to exact an implicit complience, and upon whom he always professed ance with his humours and fancies, and to
mainly to rely for advancement.  When impose upon all around him the task of obGeorge I. died, Swift was among the first to serving and accommodating themselves to his
kiss the hands of the new sovereign, and in- habits, without the slightest regard to their
dulged anew in the golden dreams of prefer- convenience or comfort. Wherever he came
ment. Walpole's recalf to power, however, the ordinary forms bf society were to give way
soon overcast those visions; and he then wrote to his pleasure; and every thing, even to the
to the mistress, humbly and earnestly entreat- domestic arrangements of a family, to be susing her, to tell him sincerely what were his pended for his caprice.-If he was to be introchances of success. She flattered him for duced to a person of rank, he insisted that the
a while with hopes; but at last he discovered first advances and the first visit should be made
that the prejudice against him was too strong to him. If he went to see a friend in the counto be overcome; and ran back in terrible hu- try, he would order an old tree to be cut down,
mour to Ireland, where he railed ever after if it obstructed the view from hiswindow-and
with his usual vehemence against the King, was never at his ease unless he was allowed
the Queen, and the concubine. The truth, it to give nicknames to the lady of the house,
seems, was, that the latter was disposed to fa- and make lampoons upon her acquaintance.
vour him; but that her influence with the King On going for the first time into any family. he
was subordinate to that of the Queen, who frequently prescribed beforehand the hours
made it a principle to thwart all applications for their meals, sleep, and exercise: and inwhich were made through that channel.     sisted rigorously upon the literal fulfilment of
Such, we think, is a faithful sketch of the the capitulation. From his intimates he unipolitical career of this celebrated person;-  formly exacted the most implicit submission
and if it be correct in the main, or even in to all his whims and absurdities; and carried
any material particulars, we humbly conceive his prerogative so far, that he sometimes used
that a more unprincipled and base course of to chase the Grattans and other accommodating
proceeding never was held up to the scorn friends, through the apartments of the Dean.
and ridicule of mankind. To the errors and ery, and up and down stairs, driving them like




WORKS OF JONATHAN SWTFT. T
horses,  ith a large whip, till he thought he excuse my many weaknesses and oversights, much
had enough o  exerci T.  l  his jests have more to say any thing to my advantage. The parthe same character of insolence and coarse- ticulars expected of me are what relate to morals
ness. When  he first came to his curate'  and learning, and the reasons of' quitting your
honour's family, that is, whether the last was oc.
house, he announced himself as " his mas- casioned by any ill actions. They are all left entirely
ter; —took possession of the fireside, and or- to your hondiur's mercy, though in the first I think
dered his wife to take charge of his shirts and  I cannot reproach myself any farther than for instockings. When a young clergyman was in- firmities.
troduced to him   he offered him the dregs of  "This is all I dare beg at present from your honour,
under circumstances of life not worth your regard.
a bottle of wine, and said, he always kept a  What is left me to wish (next to the health and prospoor parson about him to drink up his dregs. perity of your honour and family), is, that Heaven
ven in hiring servants, he alvways chose to would one day allow me the opportunity of leaving
insult them, by inquiring into their qualifica- my acknowledgments at your feet for so many fa.
tions for some filthy and degrading office. yours I have received; which, whatever effect they
And thouegh it may be true, that his after have had upon my fortune, shall never fail to have
the greatest upon my mind, in approving myself,
conduct was not exactly of a piece with those upon all occasions, your honour's most obedient
preliminaries. it is obvious, that as no man of and most dutiful servant." —Vol. xv. pp. 230, 231.
proper feelings could submit to such imperti-   By far the most characteristic, and at the
nence, so no man could have a right to indulge s    ar tie most d   iscreditable   and   t interin it.  Even considered merely as a manner esting part of Swifts histable and most interassumed to try the character of those with  esting part of Swift's history, however, is that
assumed to try the charater  of those with which relates to his connection with the three
whom he lived it was a test which no one
unfortunate women, whose happiness he rubut a tyrant could imagine himself entitled to ined, and whose reputation he did what was
apply;-and Swift's practical conclusion from  in him  to destroy. We say the three women
it was just the reverse of what might be ex- -for though Varina was sast off before he
pected.  He attached himself to those only  ad fameor pra ctice  en ough in composition
who were mean enough to bear this usage, had fame or practice enough in composition
whoand broke mewit h all who    r esented  it.  While to celebrate her in song, like Stella or Vanessa,
and broke with all who resented it. While 
the had something to gain or to hopefrom th   her injuries seem to have been nearly as great,
heworld, head  somethingems  to  have  been occasionm the and altogether as unpardonable as those of the
world, he seems to have been occasionally other two.  Soon after leaving college, he
less imperious; but, after he retired to Ireland, appears to have formed, or at best professed,
he gave way without restraint to the native   ppears to have  forme a Miss Jane Waryng, the
arrogance of his character and, accordingly, sister of a fellow-student to whom his assidu
confined himself almost entirely to the society  sister of a fellow-student, to whom his assid
of a few easy-tempered persons, who had no ities seemed to have rendered him acceptable,
talents or pretensions to come in competition and with whom  he corresponded for a series
with his: and who,    for the Ihonour of hison of years, under the preposterous name of Vaquawith hisance, were  forwilling to submit tof he do- rina. There appear to be but two letters of this
quaintanct  were willing     to subm,                                            itten  by
minion he usurped.                            correspondence preserved, both written by
A singular contrast to the rudenessand ar- Swift, one in the height of his passion, and
roganulare of this behaviour to his friends andr- the other in its decline-and both extremely
dependants, is afforded by the instances of characteristic and curious. The first is dated
extravaogat adulation  and _bs_ hiumility, in 16967 and is chiefly remarkable for its exith~ occur sns iI-afesse-s to thos            treme badness and stupidity; though it is full
whom  his fortune depended.  After he gets enough of love and lamentation.  The lady,
into the society of  olingbroke and Oxforhe gets it seems, had long before confessed a mutual
into the society of Bolingbroke and Oxford, flame; but prudential considerations made
and up to the age of forty, these are composed        but prudential cons made
in something of a better taste; but the true which the lover raves and complains in the
models are to be found in his addresses to Sir
William Temple, the first and most honoured  following deplorable sentences,-written, it
of his patrons, upon whose sickness and re-         be observed, when he was on the borders
o e  hs as indited a herosic epistle and   of thirty, and proving, along with his early
covery he has indited a heroic epistle and a
Pindaric ode, more fulsome and extravagant  em                 late he came to the use of
than any thing that had then proceeded fromImpatience is               the most inseparable
the pen even of a poet-laureate; and to whom,   " Madam-Impatience is the most inseparable
after he had left his family in bad humour, quality of a lover, and indeed of every person who
after he had left his family in bad humour, is in pursuit of a design whereon he conceives his
he sends a miserable epistle. entreating a cer- greatest happiness or misery to depend. It is the
tificate of character, in terms which are scarce- same thing in war, in courts, and in common busi.
ly consistent with the consciousness of de- ness. Every one who hunts after pleasure, or fame,
serving it; and are, at all events, infinitely  or fortune, is still restless and uneasy till he has
inconsistent with the proud and peremptory  hunted down his game; and all this is not only
tone which he assumed to those who would very natural, but something reasonable too: for a
tone                                      which he assumed to those who would  violent desire is little better than a distemper, and
bear with it. A few  lines may be worth  therefore men are not to blame in looking afte
quoting. He was then full twenty-seven years a cure. I find myself hugely infected with this
of age, and a candidate for ordination.  After malady, and am easily vain enough to believe it
explaining this, he adds-                     has some very good reasons to excuse it. For in.
deed, in my case, there are some circumstances
"I entreat that your honour will consider this, which will admit pardon for more than ordinary
and will please to send me some certificate of my disquiets.  That dearest object upon which all
behaviour during almost three years in your family; my prospect of happiness entirely depends, is in
wherein I shall stand in ns ad of all your goodness to perpetual danger to be removed for ever from mv




so                         LI'I RATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
might. Varina's life is daily wasting; and though  your health be otherwise than it was when you
one just and honourable action would furnish health told me the doctors advised you against marriage,
to her, and unspeakable happiness to us both, yet as what would certainly hazard your life. Are
some power that repines at human felicity has that they or you grown of another opinion in this particinfluence to hold her continually doating upon her ular? are you in a condition to manage domestic
cruelty, and me on the cause of it.           affairs, with an income of less (perhaps) than 3001.
" Would to Heaven you were but a while sensi- a-year? (it must have been near. 5001.) have you
ble of the thoughts into which my present distrac- such an inclination to my person and humour, as
tions plunge me; they hale me a thousand ways, to comply with my desires and way of living, and
and I not able to bear them. It is so, by Heaven: endeavour to make us both as happy as you can?
The love of Varina is of more tragical consequence can you bend your love and esteem and indifference
than her cruelty. Would to God you had treated to others the same way as I do mine? shall I have
and scorned me from the beginning. It was your so much power in your heart, or you so much govpity opened the first way to my misfortune; and ernment of your passions, as to grow in good
now your love is finishing my ruin: and is it so humour upon my approach, though provoked by a
then? In one fortnight I must take eternal farewell -?  have you so much good nature as to
of Varina: and (I wonder) will she weep at part- endeavour by soft words to smooth any rugged
ing, a little to justify her poor pretences of some humour occasioned by the cross accidents of life?
affection to me?                             shall the place wherever your husband is thrown
"Surely, Varina, you have but a very mean be more welcome than courts or cities without
opinion of the joys that accompany a true, honour- him? In short, these are some of the necessary meable, unlimited love; yet either nature and our an- thods to please men, who, like me, are deep read in
cestors have highly deceived us, or else all other the world; and to a person thus made, 1 should be
sublunary things are dross in comparison. Is it proud in giving all due returns towards making
possible you can be yet insensible to the prospect her happy."-Vol. xv. pp. 247, 248.
of a rapture and delight so innocent and so exalted  He then tells her that if ever
By Heaven, Varina, you are more experienced and    ee         he               r thing else
have less virgin innocence than I. Would not your were suitable  he should not care whether
conduct make one think you were hugely skilled her person were beautiful, or her fortune large.
in all the little politic methods of intrigue? Love,   " Cleanliness in the first, and competency in the
with the gall of too much discretion, is a thousand other, is all I look for. I desire, indeed, a plentiful
times worse than with none at all. It is a peculiar revenue, but would rather it should be of my own;
part of nature which art debauches, but cannot though I should bear from a wife to be reproached
improve.                                      for the greatest."-Vol. xv. pp. 248.
" Farewell, madam; and may love make you a
while forget your temper to do me justice. Only    To complete the picture of his indifference,
remember, that if you still refuse to be mine, you or rather his ill-disguised disinclination, he
will quickly lose, for ever lose, him that has resolved addsto die as he has lived, all yours, JON. SWIFT."-  The dismalaccount you say I have given you
Vol. xv. pp. 232-237.e given you
of my livings I can assure you to be a true one;
Notwithstanding these tragic denunciations, and, since it is a dismal one even in your own
he neither died-nor married-nor broke off opinion, you can best draw consequences from it.
the connection, for four years thereafter; in  The place where Dr. Bolton lived is upon a living
the latter part of which, having been at last which he keeps with the deanery; but the place
presented  to two livings in Ireland worth  of residence for that they have given me is within
a mile of a town called Trim, twenty miles from
near 4001. a year, the lady seems to have hence; and there is no other way but to hire a
been reduced to remind him  of his former house at Trim, or build one on the spot: the first
impatience, and fairly to ask him, whether is hardly to be done, and the other I am too poor to
his affections had suffered any alteration. His perform at present. "-Vol. xv. p. 246.
answer to this appeal is contained in the    The lady, as was to be expected, broke off
second letter; —and is, we think, one of the all correspondence after this letter-and so
most complete patterns of meanness, selfish- ended Swift's first matrimonial engagement
ness, and brutality, we have ever met with. and first eternal passion!-What became of
The truth undoubtedly was, that his affections the unhappy person, whom he thus heartlessly
were estranged, and had probably settled by abandoned, with impaired health, and mortithis time on the unfortunate Stella: but in- fled affections, after a seven-years' courtship,
stead of either fairly avowing this inconstancy, is nowhere explained.  The fate of his next
or honourably fulfilling engagements, from  victim is at least more notorious.
which inconstancy perhaps could not release    Esther Johnson, better known to the reader
him  he thinks fit to write, in the most frigid, of Swift's works by the name of Stella, was
insolent. and hypocritical terms, undervaluing  the child of a London merchant, who died in.
her fortune and person, and finding fault with  her infancy; when she went with her mother,
her humour; —and yet pretending, that if she who was a friend of Sir W. Temple's sister,
would only comply with certain conditions to reside at Moorpark, where Swift was then
which he specifies, he might still be persuaded  domesticated. Some part of the charge of her
to venture himself with her into the perils of education devolved upon him;-and though
matrimony. It will be recollected, that when he was twenty years her senior, the interest
he urged immediate marriage so passionately with which he regarded her, appears to have
in 1696, he had no provision in the world, and  ripened into something as much like affection
must have intended to live on her fortune, as could find a place in his selfish bosom.'
which yielded about 1001. a year, and that he Soon after Sir William's death, he got his
thought her health as well as happiness would  Irish livings, besides a considerable legacy;be saved by the match.  In 1700 when he and as she had a small independence of her
had got two livings, he addresses her as fol- own, it is obvious that there was nothing to
lows —                                         prevent their honourable and immediate union.
"I desire, therefore, you will let me know if Some cold-blooded vanity or ambition, how'




WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT.                                    8,
ever, or some politic anticipation of his own sense to pretend that it was the want of mopossible inconstancy, deterred him from this ney that prevented him  from  fulfilling his
onward and open course; and led him to an engagements.  Stella was then twenty-six,
arrangement which was dishonourable and and he near forty-five; and both had hitherto
absurd in the beginning, and in the end pro- lived very far within an income that was now
auctive of the most accumulated misery. He more than doubled.  That she now expected
prevailed upon her to remove her residence  to be made his wife, appears from the pains
from  the bosom of her own family in Eng- he takes in the Journal indirectly to destroy
land, to his immediate neighbourhood in Ire- that expectation; and though the awe in
land, where she took lodgings with an elderly which he habitually kept her, probably precompanion, of the name of Mrs. Dingley-  vented her either from  complaining, or inavowedly for the sake of his society and pro- quiring into the cause, it is now certain that
tection, and on a footing of intimacy so very a new attachment, as heartless, as unprincistrange and unprecedented, that whenever he pled, and as fatal in its consequences as either
left his parsonage house for England or Dub- of the others, was at the bottom of this cruel
lin, these ladies immediately took possession, and unpardonable proceeding.
and oceupied it till hes came back.-A situa-   During his residence in London, from 1710
tion so extraordinary an'uindefined, was liable to 1712, he had leisure, in the intervals of his
of course to a thousand misconstructions; and political labours, to form the acquaintance of
must have been felt as degrading by any Miss Esther Vanhomrigh, whose unfortunate
woman of spirit and delicacy: and accord- love he has recorded, with no great delicacy,
ingly, though the master of this Platonic se- under the name of Vanessa. This young
raglio seems to have used all manner of paltry  lady, then only in her twentieth year, joined
and insulting practices, to protect a reputation to all the attractions of youth, fashion, and
which he had no right to bring into question, elegance, the still more dangerous gifts of a
-by never seeing her except in the presence lively imagination, a confiding temper, and a
of Mrs. Dingley, and never sleeping under capacity of strong and permanent affectionthe same roof with her, —it is certain both Swift, regardless of the ties which bound him
that the connection was regarded as indeco- to Stella, allowed himself to be engaged by
rous by persons of her own sex, and that she those qualities; and, without explaining the
herself felt it to be humiliating and improper. nature of those ties to his new idol, strove by
Accordingly, within two years after her set- his assiduities to obtain a return of affectiontlerent in Ireland, it appears that she encou- while he studiously concealed from the unraged the addresses of a clergyman of the happy Stella the wrong he was conscious of
name of Tisdall, between whom  and Swift doing her. We willingly borrow the words
there was a considerable intimacy; and that of his partial biographer, to tell the rest of a
she would have married him, and thus sacri- story, which, we are afraid, we should tell
ficed her earliest attachment to her freedom  with little temper ourselves.
and her honour, had she not been prevented    "While Vanessa was occupying much of his
by the private dissuasions of that false friend, time, and much doubtless of his thoughts, she is
who did not choose to give up his own claims never once mentioned in the Journal directly by
to her, although he had not the heart or the name, and is only twice casually indicated by the
honour to make her lawfully his own. She title of Vanhomrigh's eldest daughter. There was,
was then a blooming beauty, of little more therefore, a consciousness on Swift's part, that his
than twenty, with fine black hair, delicate attachment to his younger pupil was of a natures
which could not be gratifying to her predecessor.,
features, and a playful and affectionate char- although he probably shut his own eyes to ede  con.
acter.  It seems doubtful to us. whether she sequences of an intimacy which he wished to conoriginally felt for Swift any thing that could  ceal from those of Stella. Miss Vanhomrigh, in,
properly be called love-and her willingness the mean while, conscious of the pleasure winchto marry another in the first days of their Swift received from her society, and of the adtan.,
coninection, seems almost decisive oii the tages of youth and fortune which she possessed,
and ignorant of the peculiar circumstances in which
subject: but the ascendancy he had acquired  he stood  with respect to another, naturally, and
over her mind, and her long habit of submit- surely without offence either to reason or virtue,
ting her own judgment and inclinations to gave way to the hope of forming an union with a,
his. gave him  at least an equal power over man whose talents had first attracted her admira.
her, and moulded her pliant affections into  tion, and whose attentions, in the course of their,
mutual studies, had, by degrees, gained her affectoo deep and exclusive a devotion.  Even  tions, and seemed to warrant his own. The  friends.
before his appointment to the Deanery of St. continued to use the language of friendship, but,
Patrick's, it is utterly impossible to devise with the assiduity and earnestness of a warmers
any apology for his not marrying her, or allow- passion, until Vanessa rent asunder the veil, by in
ing her to marry another  the only one that timating to Swift the state of' her affections; and in,
he ever appears to have stated himself, viz. this, as she conceived, she was justified by his own.
the wantverof a arsuffi    to  hisu vin. favourite, though dangerous maxim, of doing that
the want of a sufficient fortune to sustain the which seems in itself right, without respect to the
expenses of matrimony, being palpably absurd  common opinion of the world. We cannot doubt,
in the mouth of a man born to nothing, and  that he actually felt the'shame, disappointment,
already more wealthy than nine-tenths of his guilt, surprise,' expressed in his celebrated poem,
order: but, after he obtained that additional though he had not courage to take the open and
manly course of avowing those engagements with
preferment, and was thus ranked among the Stella, or other impediments which prevented him
well beneficed dignitaries of the establish- from accepting the hand and fortune of her rival. —
nent, it was plainly an insult upon common I Without, therefore, making this painful but jusl




82                          LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
confession, he answered the avowal.of Vanessa's possible, Swift resolved to temporise, in hopes
passion, at first in raillery, and afterwards by an probably, that time, accident, the mutability inci.
offer of devoted and everlasting friendship, founded dent to violent affections, might extricate himself
on the basis of virtuous esteem. Vanessa seems and Vanessa from the snare in which his own
neither to have been contented nor silenced by the culpable imprudence had involved them. Mean
result of her declaration; but to the very close of while, he continued to bestow on her those marks
her life persisted in endeavouring, by entreaties and of regard which it was impossible to refuse to her
arguments, to extort a more lively return to her feelings towards him, even if they had not been
passion, than this cold proffer was calculated to reciprocal.  But the conduct which'he adopted
afford.                                        as kindest to Miss Vanhomrigh, was likely to prove
"The effect of his increasing intimacy with the fatal to Stella. His fears and affections were next
fascinating Vanessa, may be plainly traced in the awakened for that early favourite, whose suppress.
Journal to Stella, which, in the course of its pro- ed grief and jealousy, acting upon a frame naturally
gress, becomes more and more cold and indiffer- delicate, menaced her health in an alarming manent,-breathes fewer of those aspirations after the ner. The feelings with which Swift beheld the
quiet felicity of a life devoted to M. D. and the wreck which his conduct had occasioned, will not
willows at Laracor,-uses less frequently the affec. bear description. Mrs. Johnson had forsaken her
tionate jargon, called the' little language,' in which country, and clouded even her reputation, to behis fon ness at first displays itself,-and, in short, come the sharer of his fortunes, when at their
exhibits all the symptoms of waning affection. lowest; and the implied ties by which he was bound
Stella was neither blind to the altered style of his to make her compensation, were as stronu as the
correspondence, nor deaf to the rumours which most solemn promise, if indeed even promises of
were wafted to Ireland. Her letters are not pre- future marriage had not been actually exchanged
served; but, from several passages of the Journal, between them.  He employed Dr. St. George
it appears that they intimated displeasure and jea- Ashe, Bishop of Clogher, his tutor and early friend,
lousy, which Swift endeavours to appease.      to request the cause of her melancholy; and he
" Upon Swift's return to Ireland, we may guess received the answer which his conscience must
at the disturbed state of his feelings, wounded at have anticipated-it was her sensibility to his recent
once by ungratified ambition, and harassed by his indifference, and to the discredit which her own
affection being divided between two objects, each  character sustained from the long subsistence of
worthy of his attachment, and each having great the dubious and mysterious connection between
claims upon him, while neither was likely to remain  them. To convince her of the constancy of his
contented with the limited return of friendship in affection, and to remove her beyond the reach of
exchange for love, and that friendship too divided calumny, there was but one remedy. To this comwith a rival. The claims of Stella were preferable munication Swift replied, that he had formed two
in point of date; and, to a man of honour and good  resolutions concerning matrimony: —one, that he
faith, in every respect irresistible. She had resigned  would not marry till'possessed of a competent for.
her country, her friends, and even hazarded her tune; the other, that the event should take place
character, in hopes of one day being united to at a time of life which gave him a reasonable prosSwift. But if Stella had made the greatest sacri-  pect to see his children settled in the world. The
fice, Vanessa was the more important victim. She independence proposed, he said, he had not yet
had youth, fortune, fashion; all the acquired ac- achieved, being still embarrassed by debt; and, on
complishments and information in which Stella was the other hand, he was past that term of life after
deficient; possessed at least as much wit, and cer- which he had determined never to marry. Yet he
tainly higher powers of imagination. That he had  was ready to go through the ceremony fbr the ease
no intention to marry Vanessa, is evident from pas- of Mrs. Johnson's mind, providing it should resages in his letters, which are inconsistent with main a strict secret from the public, and that they
such an arrangement; as, on the other hand, their should continue to live separately, and in the same,Avhole tenor excludes that of guilty intimacy.  On guarded manner as formerly. To these hard terms
the other han',htonduct, with respect to Stella, Stella subscribed; they relieved her own mind at
was equally dubious. So soon as he was settled in least from all scruples on the impropriety of their
the Deanery-house, his first care was'to secure connection; hand they soothed her jealousy, by
lodgings for Mrs. Dingley and Stella, upon Or. rendering it impossible that Swift should ever give
mond's Quay, on the other side of the Liffy;and his hand to her rival. They were married in the
to resume, with the same guarded caution, the in- garden of the Deanery, by the Bishop of Clogher,
tercourse which bhad formerly existed between them. in the year 1716."-Vol. i. pp. 229-238.
But circumstances soon compelled him to give that
connection a more definite character.            Even admitting all the palliations that are
"M Mrs. Vanhomrigh was now dead. Her two.'L Mrs. Vanhomrigh was now dead. Her two here suggested, it is plain that Swift s conduct
sons survived her but a short time; and the cir-    ere suggested, it is plain that Swft conduct
cumstances of the young ladies were so far em- is utterly indefensible-and that his ingenious
barrassed by inconsiderate expences, as gave them  biographer thinks nearly as ill of it ra"s-Wei tt:
a handsome excuse for retiring to Ireland, where Supposing it possible that a man of his penetheir father had left a small property near Celbridge. tration should have inspired an innocent young
The arrival of Vanessa in Dublin excited the ap. girl with a violent passion, without being at
prehensiois of Swift, and the jealousy of Stella. all aware of it what possible apology can
However imprudently the Dean might have in-,  hat possible apology can
dulged himself and the unfortunate young lady, by  there be for his not disclosing his engage.
frequenting her society during his residence in Eng  ments with Mrs. Johnson, and peremptorily
land, there is no doubt that he was alive to all the breaking off all intercourse with her rejected
hazards that might accrue to the reputation and rival — He was bound to her by ties even
peace of both, by continuing the same intimacy in more sacred than those of actual marriageDublin. But the means of avoiding it were no andw
longer in his power, although his reiterated re.    as no more at liberty, under such cir.
monstrances assumed even the character of unkind- cumstances, to disguise that connection than
ness. She importuned him with complaints of ne- the other: —or if he had himself unconsciously
glect and cruelty; and it was obvious, that any imbibed an irresistible passion for his younger
decisive measure to break their correspondence, admirer, it would have been far less guilty or
would be attended with some such tragic conse- dishonourable to have avowed this to Stela,
quence, as, though late, at length concluded their
story. Thus engaged in a labyrinth, where perse- and followed the impulse of such a fatal atverance was wrong, and retreat seemed almost im. tachment.  In either of these ways, he would




WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT.                                      83
have spared at least one of his victims.  But   " Vanessa, besides musing over her unhappy
he had not the apology of any such passion; attachment, had, during her residence in this soli
and, desirous apparently of saving himself  tude, the care of nursing the decliting health of
the shock of any unpleasant, disclosure, or her younger sister, who at length died about 1720.
the shock of any unpleasant disclosure, or This event, as it left her alone in the world, seems
wishing to secure to himself the gratification  to have increased the energy of her fatal passion for
of both their attachments, he endeavoured  Swift, while he, on the contrary, saw room for still
basely to conceal from each the share which  greater reserve, when her situation became that of
the other had in his affections, and sacrificed  a solitary female, without the society or counte.
the peace of both to the indulgence of this nance of a female relation. But Miss Vanhomrigh,
irritated at the situation in which she found herself,
mean and cold-blooded duplicity. The same determined on bringing to a crisis those expectadisgusting selfishness is) if possible still more  ti ns  of a n union with  the obje ct of her affections
apparent, in the mortifying and degrading  to the hope of which she had clung amid every
conditions he annexed to his nominal marriage  vicissitude of his conduct towards her. The most
with Stella, for the concealment of which no  probable bar was his undefined connection with
reason can be assigned, to which it is possible Mrs. Johnson, which, as it must have been perto listen with patienced, at leasw t safter thp e  fectly known to her, had, doubtless, long excited
to listen with patiences —at least after the  her secret jealousy: although only a single hint to
death of Vanessa had removed all fear of its that purpose is to be found in their correspondence,
afflicting or irritating that unhappy rival. This and that so early as 1713, when she writes to him,
tragical event, of which Swift was as directly  then in Ireland, "If you are very happy, it is ill.
and as guiltily the cause, as if he had plunged  natured of you not to tell me so, except'tis what
a dagger into her heart, is described with  ts inconsistent tdith mine.' Her silence and patience under this state of uncertainty, for no less
much feeling by Mr. Scott, who has added a  than eight years, must have been partly owing to
fuller account of her previous retirement than  her awe for Swift, and partly perhaps to the weak
any former editor.                             state of her rival's health, which from year to year,
seemed to announce speedy dissolution. At length,
"About the year 1717, she retired from Dublin, however, Vanessa's impatience prevailed; and she
to her house and property near Celbridge, to nurse ventured on the decisive step of writing to Mrs.
her hopeless passion in seclusion from the world. Johnson herself, requesting to know the nature of
Swift seems to have foreseen and warned her that connection. Stella, in reply, informed her of
against the consequences of this step. His letters her marriage with the Dean; and,'full of the highuniformly exhort her to seek general society; to est resentment against Swift for having given antake exercise, and to divert, as much as possible, other female such a right in him as Miss Vanhomthe current of her thoughts from the unfortunate righ's inquiries implied, she sent to him her rival's
subject which was preying upon her spirits. He letter of interrogation, and, without seeing him, or
even exhorts her to leave Ireland. Until the year awaiting his reply, retired to the house of Mr.
1720, he never appears to have visited her at Cel. Ford, near Dublin. Every reader knows the conbridge; they only met when she was occasionally  sequence. Swift, in one of those paroxysms of
in Dublin. But in that year, and down to the time fury to which he was liable, both from temper and
of her death, Swift came repeatedly to Celbridge; disease, rode instantly to Marley Abbey. As he
and, from the information of a most obliging cor- entered the apartment, the sternness of his counterespondent, I am enabled to give account of some nance, which was peculiarly formed to express the
minute particulars attending them.             fiercer passions, struck the unfortunate Vanessa
" Marley Abbey, near Celbridge, where Miss with such terror, that she could scarce ask whether
Vanhomrigh resided, is built much in the form of a he would not sit down. He answered by flinging
real cloister, especially in its external appearance. a letter on the table: and, instantly leaving the
An aged man (upwards of ninety by his own ac- house, mounted his horse, and returned to Dublin.
count) showed the grounds to my correspondent. When Vanessa opened the packet, she only found
He was the son of Mrs. Vanhomrigh's gardener, her own letter to Stella. It was her death warrant.
and used to work with his father in the garden when  She sunk at once under the disappointment of the
a boy. He remembered the unfortunate Vanessa delayed, yet cherished hopes, wh:ch had so long
well, and his account of her corresponded with the sickened her heart, and beneath the unrestrained
usual description of her person, especially as to her wrath of him  for whose sake she had indulged
embonpoint. He said she went seldom abroad, and them. How long she survived this last interview,
saw little company: her constant amusement was is uncertain, but the time does not seem to have
reading, or walking in the garden. Yet, according exceeded a few weeks."-Life, vol. i. pp. 248-253.
to this authority, her society was courted by several
families in the neighbourhood, who visited her,   Among the novelties of the present edition
notwithstanding her seldom returning that atten- is what is called a complete copy of the cor.
tion,-and he added, that her manners interested  respondence betwixt Swift and this unfortu.
every one who knew her. But she avoided com- nate lady.  To us it is manifest, that it is by
pany, and was always melancholy save when Dean no means a complete copy;-and, on the
Swift was there, and then she seemed happy.-          the
The garden was to an uncommon degree crowded  whole, the parts that are now published foi
with laurels. The old man said, that when Miss the first time, are of less moment than those
Vanhomrigh expected the Dean, she always plant- that had been formerly printed.  But it is
ed, with her own hand, a laurel or two against his altogether a very interesting and painful col.
arrival. He showed her favourite seat, still called  lection; and there is something to us inexVanessa's Bower. Three or four trees, and some pressibly touching in the innocent fondness
laurels, indicate the spot. They had formerly, pressbly touching  the innocent fondness,
according to the old man's information, been train- d almost childish gaiety, of Vanessa at its
ed into a close arbour. There were two seats and commencement, contrasted with the deep
and a rude table within the bower, the opening of gloom into which she sinks in its later stages;
which commanded a view of the Liffy, which had while the ardour of affection which breathes
a romantic effect; and there was a small cascade  through the whole, and the tone of devoted
that murmured at some distance. In this seques- innocence and simplicity of character which
tered spot, according to the old gardener's account,      and simplicity of character which
the Dean and Vanessa used often to sit, with books are every where preserved, make us both
and writing-materials on the table before them.  hate and wonder at the man who could do



84                          LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
liberately break a heart so made to be cher- treat me as you do, you will not be made uneasy
ished.  We cannot resist the temptation of  by me long.'Tis impossible to'detscribe what I
extracting a little of the only part of this have suffered since I saw you last; I am sure I
could have borne the rack much better than those
heart or tenderness is to be discovered.  His wkilling. killing words of yours. Sometimes I have
heart or tenderness is to be discovered. His resolved to die without seeing you more, but those
first letter is written immediately after their resolves, to your misfortune, did not last long: for
first separation, and while she yet believed  there is something in human nature that prompts
that his slowness in returning her passion  one so to find relief in this world: I must give way
arose, as he had given her ample warrant to  to it, and beg you'd see me, and speak kindly to
suppose, (see the whole of the poem of Cad- me  for I am  sure you would not condemn any
Aups  nd ( esee, t wole. ofhep^oem nof g C ad- one to suffer what I have done, could you but know
enus and Vanessa, vol. xiv,) from nothing but it. The reason I write to you is, because I cannot
a sense of the unsuitableness of their years tell it you, should I see you; for when I begin to
and habits, which would give way to the con- complain, then you are angry, and there is some.
tinued proof's of its constancy and ardour. thing in your look so awful, that it strikes me dumb.
Oh! that you may but have so much regard fbr me
He had written her a cold note on his journey, Ohf that this complaint have so much  regard for with
to which she thus rapturously answers-         left, that this complaint may touch your soul with
to which she thus rapturously answers:- -    pity. I say as little as ever I can. Did you but
" Now you are good beyond expression, in send- know what I thought, I am  sure it would move
ing me that dear voluntary from St. Alban's. It you. Forgive me, and believe I cannot help tell
gives me more happiness than you can imagine, or tng you this, and live."-Vol. xix. p. 421.
I describe, to find that your head is so much better   And a little after,
already. I do assure you all my wishes are em-   " I am, and cannot avoid being in the spleen to
ployed for the continuance of it. I hope the next the last degree. Every thing combines to make
will tell me they have been of force. Pray, why me so. Yet this and all other disappointments in
did not you remember me at Dunstable, as well as life I can bear with ease, but that of being neglected
Moll? Lord! what a monster is Mollgrown since. by....  Spleen I cannot help, so you must exBut nothing of poor Hess; except that the mark  cuse it. I do all I can to get the better of it; but
will be in the same place of Davilla where you left it is too strong for me. I have read more since I
it. Indeed, it is not much advanced yet, for I have saw Cad, than I did in a great while passed, and
been studying of Rochefoucault to see if he de- chose those books that required most attention, on
scribed as much of love as I found in myself a Sun- purpose to engage my thoughts, but I find the more
day, and I find he falls very short of it. I am very  I think the more unhappy I am.
impatient to hear from you at Chester. It is im-    " I had once a mind not to have wrote to you,
possible to tell you how often I have wished you a for fear of making you uneasy to find me so dull;
cup of coffee and an orange at your inn."-Vol. but I could not keep to that resolution, for the
xix, pp. 403, 404.                             pleasure of writing to you. The satisfaction I have
Upon hearing of his arrival in Ireland, she iand outh remembering me, when you read my letters,
san the delight I have in expecting one from Cad,
writes again in the same spirit.               makes me rather choose to give you some uneasi.
ness, than add to my own."-Vol. xix. pp. 431, 432
"Here is now three long weeks passed since
you wrote to me. Oh! happy Dublin, that can    As the correspondence draws to a close, hei
employ all your thoughts, and happy Mrs. Emer- despair becomes more eloquent and agonizing
son, that could hear from you the moment you The following two letters are dated in 1720.
landed. Had it not been for her, I should be yet
more uneasy than I am. I really believe, before    " Believe me, it is with the utmost regret that I
you leave Ireland, I shall give you just reason to now complain to you;-yet what can I do?  I must
wish I did not know my letters, or at least that I either unload my heart, and tell you all its griefs,
could not write: and I had rather you should wish or sink under the inexpressible distress I now suffet
so, than entirely forget me. Mr. Lewis has given  by your prodigious neglect of me.'Tis now ten
me' Les Dialogues Des lIortes,' and I am so long weeks since I saw you, and in all that time I
charmed with them, that 1 am resolved to quit my  have never received but one letter from you, and
body, let the consequence be what it will, except a little note with an excuse. Oh, how have you
you will talk to me, for I find no conversation on forgot me! *You endeavour by severities to force
earth comparable to yours; so, if you care I should  me from you: Nor can I blame you; for with the
stay, do but talk, and you will keep me with plea- utmost distress and confusion, I behold myself the
sure."-Vol. xix, pp. 407-409.                  cause of uneasy reflections to you, yet I cannot
comfort you, but here declare, that'tis not in the
There is a great deal more of this trifling  power of time or accident to lessen the inexpressible
of a heart at ease, and supported by enchant- passion which I have for.....
ing hopes.  It is miserable to think how sadly    "Put my passion under the utmost restraint,the style is changed, when she comes to know  send me as distant from you as the earth will allow,
better the object on whom she had thus irre- -yet you cannot banish those charming ideas which
lavished her affections. T ow- ill ever stick by me whilst I have the use of
trieably lavished her affections. The follow- memory. Nor is the love I bear you only seated
ing is the first letter that appears after she fol- in my soul, for there is not a single uatom of my
lowed him to Ireland in 1714; and it appears frame that is not blended with it. Therefore, donlt
to us infinitely more touching and pathetic, flatter yourself that separation will ever change my
in the truth and simplicity of the wretched- sentiments; for I find myself unquiet in the midst
ness it expresses, than all the eloquent despair of silence, and my heart is at once pierced with
sorrow and love. For Heaven's sake, tell me what
of all the heroines of romance.  No man, has caused this prodigious change on you, which I
with a heart, we think, could receive such  have found of late. If you have the least remains of
letters and live.                              pity for me left, tell me tenderly. No: don't: tell
it so that it may cause my present death, and don't
"You bid me be easy, and you'd see me as often suffer me to live a life like a languishing death,
as you could. you had better have said as often as which is the only life I can lead, it you have lost
you could get the better of your inclinations so any of your tenderness for me."-Vol. xix. pp.441,
much; or as often as you remembered there was 442.
such a Derson in the world. If you continue to    "Tell me sincerely, if you have once wished




WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT.                                      85
with earnestness to see me, since I wrote last to and unrelenting refusal to clear her honour to
you. No, so far from that, you have not once the world, even at her dying hour.  There
pitied me, though I told you how I was distressed. are two editions of this dying scene-one on
Solitude is insupportable to a mind which is not at
ease. I have worn on my days in sighing, and my the authority of Mr. Sheridan. the other on
nights with watching and thinking of....who that of Mr. Theophilus Swift, who is said to
thinks not of me. How many letters must I send have received it from Mrs. Whiteway.  Mr.
you before I shall receive an answer?  Can you Scott, who is unable to discredit the former
deny me in my misery the only comfort which I and is inclined at the same time to prefer the
can expect at present? Oh! that I could hope to least disreputable for his author, is reduced
see you here, or that 1 could go to you!  I was to the necessity of supposing, that both may
born with violent passions, which terminate all in to the necessity of supposing that both may
one, that inexpressible passion I have for you. be true, and that Mr. Sheridan's story may
Consider the killing emotions which I feel from  have related to an earlier period than that
your neglect, and show some tenderness for me, or reported by Mrs. Whiteway.  We shall lay
shall lose my senses. Sure you cannot possibly both before our readers.  Mr. Sheridan says,
be so much taken up, but you might command a
moment to write to me, and force your inclinations   "' A short time before her death, a scene passed
to do so great a charity. I firmly believe, could I between the Dean and her, an account of which I
know your thoughts which no human creature is had from my father, and which I shall relate with
capable of guessing at, (because never any one reluctance, as it seems to bear more hard on Swift's
living thought like you.) I should find you have humanity than any other part of his conduct in life.
*often in a rage wished me religious, hoping then I As she found her final dissolution approach, a few
should have paid my devotions to Heaven: but days before it happened, in the presence of Dr.
that would not spare you,-for was I an enthusiast, Sheridan, she addressed Swift in the most earnest
still you'd be the deity 1 should worship. What and pathetic terms to grant her dying request;
marks are there of a deity, but what you are to be " That, as the ceremony of marriage had passed
known by?-you are present everywhere: your between them, though tbr sundry considerations
dear image is always before mine eyes. Some- they had not cohabited in that state, in order to put
times you strike me with that prodigious awe, I it out of the power of slander to be busy with her
tremble with fear, at other times a charming com- fame after death, she adjured him by their friendpassion shines through your countenance, which ship to let her have the satisfaction of dying at
revives my soul. Is it not more reasonable to adore least, though she had not lived, his acknowledged
a radiant form one has seen, than one only de- wife."
scribed?"-Vol. xix. pp. 442, 443.               "  Swift made no reply, but, turning on his heel,
From this heart-breaking scene we turn to walked silently out of the room, nor ever saw her
another if possible, still more deplorable  afterward, during the few days she lived.  This
another, if possibl%  still more deplorable. behaviour threw Mrs. Johnson into unspeakable
Vanessa was now  dead.  The grave had  agonies, and for a time she sunk under the weight
heaped its tranquillising mould on her agi- of so cruel a disappointment. But soon after,
tated heart, and given her tormentor assur- roused by indignation, she inveighed against his
ance, that he should no more suffer from her cruelty in the bitterest terms;.and, sending for a
reproaches on earth: and yet, though with her lawyer, made her will, bequeathing her fortune by
her own name to charitable uses. This was done
the last pretext was extinguished for refusing  in the presence of Dr. Sheridan, whom  she ap.
to acknowledge the wife he had so infamously  pointed one of her executors.' " —Vol. i. p. 357.
abused, we find him, with this dreadful ex-    If this be true Swift musthave had th4
ample before his eyes, persisting to withhold  heart of a monster; and it is of little consefrom  his remaining victim. that late'and imperfect justice to which her claim  was so quence, whether, when her death was nearer,,
perfect justice to Which her claim was so  he pretended to   consent to what his unhappy
apparent, and from  the denial of which she he pretended to consent to what his unhappy
victim  herself then pathetically declared to'
was sinking before his eyes in sickness and  be'too late;' and to what, at all events, cersorrow to the grave.  It is utterly impossible be too late  and to wha  at all events erto suggest any excuse or palliation for such  tainly never was done.  Mrs. Whiteway's
cold-blooded  barbarity.  Even  though we
were to believe with Mr. Scott, that he had    "' When Stella was in her last weak state, and
ceased to be a man, this would afford no one day had come in a chair to the Deanery, she
apology for his acting like a beast!   He as was with difficulty brought into the parlour. The
hisa lie i  Dean had prepared some mulled wine, and kept it
might still have acknowledged his wife in  by the fire for her refreshment. After tasting it
public; and restored to her the comfort and  she became irery faint, but having recovered a little
the honour, of which he had robbed her with- by degrees, when her breath (for she was asthmatic),,ot the excuse of violent passion, or thought- was allowed her, she desired to lie down. She
less precipitation.  He was rich, far beyond  was carried up stairs, and laid on a bed; the Dean
what either of them  could have expected  sitting by her, held her hand, and addressed her in
the most affectionate manner. She drooped, howwhen their union was first contemplated; and  ever, very much. Mrs. Whiteway was the only
had attained a name and a station in society  third person present. After a short time, her powhich made him independent of riches. Yet, liteness induced her to withdraw to the adjoining
for the sake of avoiding some small awkward- room, but it was necessary, on account of air, that
the door should not be closed,-it was half shut:
hess or inconvenience to'himself-to be se-t         os                 in. Whiteway
the rooms were close adjoining. Mrs. Whiteway
cured from the idle talking of those who might had too much honour to listen, but could not avoid
wonder why, since they were to marry, they  observing, that the Dean and Mrs. Johnson condid not marry before-or perhaps merely to versed together in a low tone; the latter, indeed,
retain the object of his regard in more com- wastoo weak to raise her voice. Mrs. Whiteway
plete subjection and dependence, he could  paid no  ttention having no idle curiosity, but at
bear to see her pining  year after year, in  length she heard the Dean say, in an audible voce,
ear toar.aft see  y, in  " Well, my dear, if you wish it, it shall be owned,"
solitude and degradation, and sinking at last to which Stella answered with a sigh, "It is too
into an untimely gravel prepared by his hard  late."-Vol. i. pp. 355, 356.




86                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
With the consciousness of having thus bar- and want of patriotism, could eve- come with
barously destroyed all the women for whom  so ill a grace from any quarter, as from him
he had ever professed affection, it is not won- who had openly deserted and lihelled his
derful that his latter days should have been original party, without the pretext of any
overshadowed with gloom and dejection: but other cause than the insufficiency of the reit was not the depression of late regret, or un- wards they bestowed upon him,-and joined
availing self-condemnation, that darkened his himself with men, who were treacherous not
closing scene. It was but the rancour of dis- only to their first professions, but to their
appointed ambition, and the bitterness of proud country and to each other, to all of whom he
misanthropy: and we verily believe, that if adhered, after their mutual hatred and vilhis party had got again into power, and given lanies were detected. In private life, again,
him the preferment he expected, the pride with what face could he erect himself into a
and joy of his vindictive triumph would have rigid censor of morals, or pretend to complain
been but little alloyed by the remembrance of men in general. as unworthy of his notice,
of the innocent and accomplished women of after breaking the hearts of two, if not three,
whom we have no hesitation to pronounce him  amiable women, whose affections he had enthe murderer.  In the whole of his later gaged by the most constant assiduities,-after
writings, indeed, we shall look in vain for any savagely libelling almost all his early friends
traces of that penitential regret, which was and benefactors. and exhibiting, in his daily
due to the misery he had occasioned, even if life and conversation, a picture of domineering
it had arisen without his guilt,. or even of that insolence and dogmatism. to which no parallel
humble and solemn self-reproach, which is could be found, we believe, in the history of
apt to beset thoughtful men in the decline of any other individual, and which rendered his
life and animation, even when their conduct society intolerable to all who were not subdued
has been generally blameless, and the judg- by their awe of him, or inured to it by long
ment of the candid finds nothing ih them to use i He had some righti perhaps, to look with
condemn: on the contrary, there is nowhere disdain upon men of ordinary understandings;
to be met with. a tone of more insolent re- but for all that is the proper object of reproach,
proach, and intolerant contempt to the rest of he should have looked only within: and whatthe world, or so direct a claim to the posses- ever may be his merits as a writer, we do
sion of sense and virtue, which that world not hesitate to say. that he was despicable as
was no longer worthy to employ. Of women, a politician, and hateful as a man.
too, it is very remarkable, that he speaks with   With these impressions of his personal char-',
unvaried rudeness and contempt, and rails acter, perhaps it is not easy for us to judge'
indeed at the whole human race, as wretches quite fairly of his works. Yet we are fari
with whom he thinks it an indignity to share from being insensible to their great and very i
a common nature. All this, we confess, ap- peculiar merits. Their chief peculiarity is,
pears to us intolerable; for, whether we look that they were almost all what may be called
to the fortune, or the conduct of this extraor- occasional productions —not written for fame
dinary person, we really recollect no individual or for posterity-from the fulness of the mind,
who was less entitled to be either discontented or the desire of instructing mankind-but on
or misanthropical-to complain of men or of the spur of the occasion —for promoting some
accidents. Born almost abeggar, and neither temporary and immediate object, and provery industrious nor very engaging in his early ducing a practical effect, in the attainment
habits. he attained, almost with his first efforts, of which their whole importance centered.
the very height of distinction, and was re- With the exception of The Tale of a Tub, Gulwarded by appointments, which placed him  liver, the Polite Conversation, and about half
in a state of independence and respectability a volume of poetry,. this description will apfor life. He was honoured with the acquaint- ply to almost all that is now before us;-and.
ance of all that was distinguished for rank, it is no small proof of the vigour and vivacity
literature, or reputation; —and, if not very of his genius, that posterity should have been 
generally beloved, was, what- he probably so anxious to preserve these careless and:
valued far more, admired and feared by most hasty productions, upon which their author
of those with whom  he was acquainted. appears to have set no other value than as
When his party was overthrown, neither his means for the attainment of an end. The
person nor his fortune suffered; —but he was truth is, accordingly, that t.he are very extraindulged, through the whole of his life, in a ordinary performances: AT'considered with
licence of scurrility and abuse, which has a view to the purposes for which they were
never been permitted to any other writer, — intended, have probably never been equalled
and possessed the exclusive and devoted af- in any period of the world. They are writfection of the only two women to whom he ten with great plainness, force, and intrepidity
wished to appear interesting. In this history, -advance at once to the matter in disputewe confess, we see but little apology for dis- give battle to the strength of the enemy, and
content and lamentation;-and, in his conduct, never seek any kind of advantage from dark
there is assuredly still less for misanthropy. ness or obscurity. Their distinguishing feaIn public life, we do not know where we ture, however, is the force and the veheaoIld have found any body half so profligate mence of the invective in which they abound,
and unprincipled as himself and the friends -the copiousness, the steadiness, the perseto whom he finally attached himself; —nor verance, and the dexterity with which abuse
can we conceive that complaints of venality, and ridicule are showered upol the adver.




WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT.                               F?
sary. This, we think, was, beyond all doubt,   Of the few works which he wrote in the
S   ts, reat talent, and the weapon by which capacity of an author, and not of a party zealot
e ma-' mse'ormidable. He was, with- or personal enemy, The Tale_ o a Tub was
out exception, the greatest and most efficient by far the earliest in point of time, and has,
libeller that ever exercised the trade; and by many, been considered as the first in point
possessed, in an eminent degree, all the quali- of merit. We confess we are not of that opinfications which it requires: —a clear head-a ion. It is by far too long and elaborate for a
cold heart-a vindictive temper-no admira- piece of pleasantry — the humour sinks, in
tion of noble qualities-no sympathy with suf- many places, into mere Uffoqnery and non-.
fering —not much conscience-not much con- sense;-and there is a real and extreme tesistency-a ready wit-a sarcastic humour-  diousness arising from the too successful mima thorough knowledge of the baser parts of icry of tediousness and pedantry. All these
human nature —and a complete familiarity defects are apparent enough even in the main
with every thing that is low, homely, and fa- story, in which the incidents are without the
miliar in language. These were his gifts;-  shadow of verisimilitude or interest, and by
and he soon felt for what ends they were far too thinly scattered.; but they become ingiven. Almost all his works are libels; gene- suffirable in the interludes or digressions,
rally upon individuals, sometimes upon sects the greater part of which are to us utterly
and parties, sometimes upon human nature. illegible, and seem to consist almost entirely
Whatever be his end, however, personal of cold and forced conceits, and exaggerated
abuse, direct, vehement, unsparing invective, representations of long exploded whims and
is his means. It is his sword and his shield, absurdities. The style of this work, which
his panoply and his chariot of war. In all his appears to us greatly inferior to the History of
writings, accordingly, there is nothing to raise John Bull or even of Martinus Scriblerus, is
or exalt our notions of human nature, —but evidently more elaborate than that of Swift's
every thing to vilify and degrade. We may other writings, —but has all its substantial
learn from them, perhaps, to dread the con- characteristics. Its great merit seems to con\'sequences of base actions, but never to love sist in the author's perfect familiarity with
the feelings that lead to generous ones. There all sorts of common and idiomatical expresIs no spirit, indeed, of love or of honour in any sions, his unlimited command of established
part of them; but an unvaried and harassing phrases, both solemn and familiar, and the'display of insolence and animosity in the unrivalled profusion and propriety with which
writer, and villany and folly in those of who   he heaps them  up and applies them to the
he is writing. Though a great polemic, he exposition of the most fantastic conceptions.
)nakes no use of general principles, nor ever To deliver absurd notions or incredible tfilres
enlarges his views to a wide or comprehen- in the most authentic, honest, and direct
sive conclusion. Every thing is particular terms, that have been used for the commuwith him, and, for the most part, strictly per- nication of truth and reason, and to luxuriate
sonal. To make amends, however, we do in all the variations of that grave, plain, and
think him  quite without a competitor in perspicuous phraseology, which dull men use
personalities. With a quick and sagacious to express their homely opinions, seems to be
spirit, and a bold and popular manner, he the great art of this extraordinary humorist
joins an exactknowledge of all the strong and and that which gives their character and
the weak parts of every cause he has to man- their edge to his sly strokes of satire, hig
age; and, without the least restraint from  keen sarcasms and bitter personalities.
delicacy, either of taste or of feeling, he  The voyages of Captain Lemuel Gulliver
seems always to think the most effectual is indisputably his greatest wYor. -The idea
blows the most advisable, and no advantage of making fictitious travels the vehicle of
unlawful that is likely to be successful for satire as well as of amusement, is at least as
the moment. Disregarding all the laws of old as Lucian; but has never been carried
polished hostility, he uses, at one and the into execution with sucF success, spirit, and
same moment, his sword and his poisoned originality, as in this celebrated performance.
dagger-his hands and his teeth, and his en- The brevity, the minuteness, the homeliness,
venomed breath, —and does not even scruple, the unbroken seriousness of the narrative, all
upon occasion, to imitate his own yahoos, by give a character of truth and simplicity to the
discharging on his unhappy victims a shower work, which at once palliates the extravaWof filth, from which neither courage nor dex- gance of the fiction, and enhances the effect
terity can afford any protection. — Against of those weighty reflections and cutting sesuch an antagonist, it was, of course, at no verities in which it abounds. Yet though it
time very easy to make head; and accord- is probable enough, that without those touchingly his invective seems, for the most part, es of satire and observation the work would
to have been as much dreaded, and as tre- have appear~e.im&dhlsdish  and preltosterous, we
mendous as the personal ridicule of Voltaire. are persiiaded thiat it pleases chiefly by the
Both were inexhaustible, well-directed, and novelty and vivacity of the extraordinary pieiunsparing; but even when Voltaire drew blood, tures it presents, and the entertainment we
4The did not mangle the victim, and was only receive from following the fortunes of the
mischievous when Swift was brutal. Any one traveller in his several extraordinary advenrtwho will compare the epigrams on M. Franc tures. The greater part of the wisdom and
de Pompignan with those on Tighe or Bettes- satire at least appears to us to be extremely
worth, vill easily understand the distinction. vulgar and common-place; and we have no




88                         LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
idea that they could possibly appear either multitude of his vulgar and farcical represenimpressive or entertaining, if presented with- tations of particular errors in philosophy, he
out these accompaniments.  A considerable  nowhere appears to have any sense of its
part of the pleasure we derive from the voy- true value or principles; but satisfies himages of Gulliver, in short. is of the same de- self with collecting or imagining a number
scription with that which we receive from  of fantastical quackeries, which tend to illusthose of Sinbad the sailor; and is chiefly  trate nothing but his contempt for hnman unheightened,  we believe, by the greater brevi- derstanding.  Even where his subject seems
ty and minuteness of the story, and the su- to invite him  to something of a higher flight,
perior art that is employed to give it an ap- he uniformly shrinks back from it, and takes
pearance of truth and probability, in the very  shelter in common-place derision. What, for
midst of its wonders.  Among those arts, as instance, can be poorer than the use he makes
Mr. Scott has judiciously observed, one of of the evocation of the illustrious dead-in
the most important is the exact adaptation of which Hannibal is conjured up, just to say
the narrative to the condition of its supposed  that he had not a drop of vinegar in his camp;
author.                                        and Aristotle, to ask two of his commentators)
"The character of the imaginary traveller is ex-' whether the rest of the tribe were as great
aectly that of Dampier, or any other sturdy nautical dunces as themselves?"  The voyage to the
wanderer of the period, endowed with courage and Houyhnhmns is commonly supposed to discommon sense, who sailed through distant seas, please by its vile and degrading representawithout losing a single English prejudice which he  in   f human nature; but, if we d  nt
had brought from Portsmouth or Plymouth, and
on his return gave a grave and simple narrative' of strangely mistake our own feelings on the
what he had seen or heard in foreian counltries. subject, the impression it produces is not so
The character is perhaps strictly English, and can much that of disgust as of dulness. The pic-a
be hardly relished by a foreigner.'The reflections ture is not only extravagant, but bald and'
and observations of Gulliver are never more refned tame in the highest degree; while the stor
or deeper than might be expected from a plain mas-     not enlivened by          e 
ter of a merchantman, or surgeon in the Old Jew-anucom              any of those numerout
ry; and there was such a reality given to his whole and uncommon incidents which are detailed
person, that one seaman is said to have sworn he in the two first parts. with such an inimitable
knew Captain Gulliver very well, but he lived at air of probability as almost to persuade us of
Wapping, not at Rotherhithe. It is the contrast their reality. For the rest, we have observed
between the natural ease and simplicity of such a already, that the scope of the whole work.
style, and the marvels which the volume contains, and indeed of all his writings, is to degrade
that forms one great charm of this memorable satire
on the imperfections, follies, and vices of manlkind. and vilify human nature; and though some
The exact calculations preserved in the first and of the images which occur in this part may
second part, have also the effect of qualifying the be rather coarser than the others. we do not
extravagance of the fable. It is said that in natural think the difference so considerable as to acobjects where proportion is exactly preserved, the
marvellous, whether the object be gigantic or diminutive, is lessened in the eyes of the spectator; of pleasing.
and it is certain, in general, that proportion forms    His only other considerable works in prose,
an essential attribute of truth, and consequently of are the "Polite Conversation," which we
verisimilitude, or that which renders a narration  think admirable  in its sort. and excessively
probable. If the reader is disposed to grant the       ning; and the "Directios to  Sertraveller his postulates as to the existence of the   t'ih     thouh of a lower pitch, constrange people whom he visits, it would be difficult           though of a lo
to detect any inconsistency in his narrative.  On tains as much perhaps of his peculiar, vigorthe contrary, it would seem that he and they con  ous and racy humour, as any one of his product themselves towards each other, precisely as ductions.  The Journal to Stella, which was
must necessarily have happened in the respective certainly never intended for publication, is
circumstances which the author has supposed. In                  of as a literary work at all
this point of' view, perhaps the highest praise that not to  e judge  of as a literary work at all
could have been bestowed on Gulliver's Travels -but to us it is the most interesting of all
was the censure of a learned Irish prelate, who his productions-exhibiting not only a minute
said the book contained some things which he could and masterly view  of a very extraordinary
not prevail upon himself to believe." —Vol. i. pp. political crisis, but a truer, and, upon the
340, 341.                                      whole, a more favourable picture of his own
That the interest does not arise from  the mind. than can be gathered from all the rest
satire but from  the plausible description of of his writings-together with innumerable
physical wonders, seems to be farther proved  anecdotes characteristic not only of various
by the fact, that the parts which please the  eminent individuals, but of the private manleast are those in which there is most satire  ners and public taste and morality of the
and least of those wonders.  In the voyage  times, more nakedly and surely authentic
to Laputa, after the first description of the  than any thing that can be derived from conflying island. the attention is almost exclu- temporary publications.
sively directed to intellectual absurdities;    Of his Poetry, we do not think there is
and every one is aware of the dulness that is much to be said; —for we cannot persuade
the result.  Even as a satire, indeed, this ourselves that Swift was in any respect a
ipart is extremely poor and defective; nor can poet.  It would be proof enough, we think
any thing show more clearly the author's in- just to observe, that, though a popular and,capacity for large and comprehensive views most miscellaneous writer, he does not men-'than his signal failure in all those parts which  tion the name of Shakespeare above two or
invite kiln to such contemplations.  In the three times in any part of his works, and hag




WORKS OF JONATHAN SIWIFT.                                   8)
nowhere said a word in his praise. His par-       Which keeps the peace among the gods,
tial editor admits that he has produced noth-     Or they must always be at odds:
ing which can be called either sublime or         And Pallas, if she broke the laws,
Must yield her foe the stronger cause;
pathetic; and we are of the same opinion  as      A shame to one so much ador'd
othe_   bbeautiful. The merit of correct rhymes   For wisdom at Jove's council board;
and easy diction. we shall not deny him; but      Besides, she fear'd the Queen of Love
the diction is almost invariably that of the      Would meet with better friends above.
most ordinary prose, and the matter of his        And though she must with grief reflect,
To see a mortal virgin deck'd
pieces no otherwise poetical, than that the       To see amortal virgin deck'd
With graces hitherto unknown
Muses and some other persons of the Hea-          To female breasts except her own;
then mythology are occasionally mentioned.       Yet she would act as best became
He lhas written lampoons and epigrams, and        A goddess of unspotted fame.
satirical ballads and abusive songs in great      She knew by augury divine,
abundance, and with infinite success.  But        Venus would fail in her design:
She sttidied well the point, and found
these things are not poetry; —and are better     Her foe's conclusions were not sound,
in verse than in prose, for no other reason       From premises erroneous brought;
than that the sting is more easily remem-         And therefore the deduction's naught,
bered, and the ridicule occasionally enhanced,    And must have contrary effects,
by the hint of a ludicrous parody, or the drol-   To what her treacherous foe expects."
lery of an extraordinary rhyme.  His witty                           Vol. xiv. pp. 448, 449.
verses, when they are not made up of mere    The Rhapsody of Poetry, and the Legion
filth and venom, seem mostly framed on the Club, are the only two pieces in which there
model of Hudibras; and are chiefly remarka- is the least glow of poetical animation; though,
ble, like those of his original, for the easy and  in the latter, it takes the shape of ferocious
apt application of homely and familiar phrases, and almost frantic invective. and, in the forto illustrate ingenious sophistry or unexpected  mer, shines out but by fits in the midst of the
allusions.  One or two of his imitations of usual small wares of cant phrases and snap.
Horace, are executed with spirit and elegance, pish misanthropy.  In the Rhapsody. the foland are the best, we think, of his familiar lowing lines, for instance, near the beginning.
pieces; unless we except the verses on his are vigorous and energetic.
own death, in which, however, the great   "Not empire to the rising sun
charm  arises. as we have just stated, from       By valour, conduct, fortune won;
the singular ease and exactness with which        Not highest wisdom in debates
he has imitated the style of ordinary society,    For framing laws to govern states;
and the neatness with which he has brought        Not skill in sciences profound
So large to grasp the circle round:
together and reduced to metre such a number       Such heavenly influence require,:of natural, characteristic, and common-place     As how to strike the Muse's lyre.
expressions.  The Cadenus and Vanessa is,           Not beggar's brat on bulk begot;
of itself. complete proof that he had in him      Not bastard of a pedlar Scot;
none of the elements of poetry.  It was writ-     Not boy brought up to cleaning shoes
ten when his faculties were in their perfec-      he pan of bridewell or the stews;
Nor intfants dropped, the spurious pledges
tionl and his heart animated with all the ten-    Of gypsies littering under hedges;
derness of which it was ever capable-and          Are so disqla!ified bv fate
yet it is as cold and as flat as the ice of Thul6.  To rise in church. or law, or state,
Though describing a real passion. and a real      As he whom Phcebus in his ire
perplexity, there is not a spark of fire nor a    Has blasted with poetic fire.
Vol. xiv. pp. 310, 311.
throb of emotion in it from  one end to the                          Vol. xiv. pp. 310  311.
other. All the return he makes to the warm- Yet, immediately after this nervous and pohearted creature who had put her destiny into etical line, he drops at once into the lowness
his hands, consists in a frigid mythological of vulgar flippancy.
fiction, in which he sets forth. that Venus and    "What hope of custom in the fair,
"While not a soul demands your ware " &c.
the Graces lavished their gifts on her in her
infancy, and moreover got Minerva, by a trick,   There are undoubtedly many strong lines,
to inspire her with wit and wisdom. The style and much cutting satire in this poem; but.is mere prose-or rather a string of familiar the staple is a mimicry of Hudibras, without
anr  vulgar phrases tacked together in rhyme, _thkerichness or comression rof lr; as, for
like tile general tissue of his poetry.  How- examp.Te
ever, it has been called not only easy but   " And here a simile comes pat in:
elegant, by some indulgent critics-and there-     Though chickens take a month to fatten,
fore. as we take it for granted nobody reads it   The guests in less than half an hour,
now-a-days,  we shall extract a few lines at      Will more than half a score devour.
random, to abide the censure of the judicious.    So, after toiling twenty days
To earn a stock of pence and praise,
To us they seem to be about as much poetry        Thy labours, grown the critic's prey,
as so many lines out of Coke upon Littleton.      Are swallow'd o'er a dish of tea:
Gone to be never heard of more,
" But in the poets we may find                  Gone where the chickens went before.
A wholesome law, time out of mind,            How shall a new attempter learn
Had been confirm'd by Fate's decree,          Of different spirits to discern.
That gods, of whatsoe'er degree,              And how distinguish which is which.
Resume not what themselves have given,        The poet's vein, or scribbling itch?"
Or any brother god in Heaven:                                    Vol. xiv. pp. 311, 312.




90                         LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
The Legion Club is a satire, or rather a        Such a noise an: such haranguing,
tremendous invective on the Irish House of        When a brother thief is hanging:
Commons, who had incurred the reverend            Such a rout and such a rabble
Run to hear Jackpudding gabble:
author's displeasure for entertaining some         Run to hear Jackpudding gabble:
Such a crowd their ordure throws
propositions about alleviating the burden of       On a far less villain's nose.
the tithes in Ireland; and is chiefly remarka-       "Could I from the building's top
ble, on the whole, as a proof of the extraor-     Hear the rattling thunder drop,
dinary liberty of the press which was in-          While the devil upon the roof
dulged to the disaffected in those days-no        (If the devil be thunder proof)
Should with poker fiery red
prosecution having been instituted, either by      Should withe stones, and melt the lead;
that Honourable House itself, or by any of the    Drive them down on every scull,
individual members who are there attacked          When the den of thieves is full;
in a way in which no public men were ever          Quite destroy the harpies' nest;
attacked, before or since. It is also deserving    How then might our isle be blest!
7                                           " Let them, when they once get in,
of attention, as the most thoroughly animated,     Sell the nation fortey once get in,
fierce, and energetic, of all Swift's metrical     While they sit a picking straws,
compositions; and though the animation be         Let them rave at making laws;
altogether of a ferocious character) and seems    While they never hold their tongue,
occasionally to verge upon absolute insanity,     Let them dabble in their dung;
there is still a force and a terror about it whicl  Let them form a grand committee,
redeems it from ridicule and makes us shud-       How to plague and starve the city;
Let them stare, and storm, and frown
der at the sort of demoniacal inspiration with     When they see a clergy gown;,.which the malison is vented.  The invective      Let them, ere they crack a louse;
of Swift appears in this, and some other pieces,   Call fobr th' orders of the House;
like the infernal fire of Milton's rebel angels,  Let them, with their gosling quills,
which                                             Scribble senseless heads of bills;
We may, while they strain their *hroats,
"Scorched and blasted and o'erthrew-"         Wipe our noses with their votes.
"Let Sir Tom, that rampant ass.
and was launched even against the righteous        Stu  his guToms withflat ramant ass;
with such impetuous fury,                         But before the priest he fleeces,
" That whom it hit none on their feet might stand,  Tear the Bible all to pieces:
Though standing else as rocks-but down they     At the parsons, Tom, halloo, boy!
fell                                        Worthy offspring of a shoeboy,
By thousands, angel on archangel rolled."       Footman! traitor! vile seducer!
Perjur'd rebel! brib'd accuser!
It is scarcely necessary to remark, however,    Lay thy paltry privilege aside,
that there is never the least approach to dig-    Sprung from Papists, and a regicide!
nity or nobleness in the style of these terrible   Fall a working like a mole,
invectives; and that they do not even pretend     Rase the dirt about your hol550
to the tone of a high-minded disdain or gene-   This is strong enough, we suspect, for most
tons.. They is strong enough we suspect, for most
rous impatience of unworthiness.  They are readers; but we shall venture on a few lines
honest, coarse. and violent effusions of furious       sh n
anger and rancorous hatred; and their effectmore, to show the  country might be leading
depends upon the force, heartiness, and *p  characters in the country might be libelleM
lepends upon the force, heartiness, and ap- by name and surname in those days.
parent sincerity with which those feelings are
expressed.  The author's object is simply to      In the porch Briareus stands,
his opponet,-bn  m s to do        Shows a bribe in all his hands;
vilify his opponent, —byno means to do honour      Briareus the secretar
to himself. If he can make his victim writhe,     But we mortals call him, Carey.
he cares not what may be thought of his tor-       When the rogues their country fleece,
mentor; —or rather. he is contented, provided     They may hope for pence a-piece.
he can make him sufficiently disgusting, that        "Clio, who had been so wise
a good share of the filth which he throws         To put on a fool's disguise,
should stick to his own fingers; and that he      And be thought a near relation,
should himself excite some of the loathing         When she saw three hundred brutes
of which his enemy is the principal object.       All involv'd in wild disputes,
In the -piece now  before us, many of the          Roaring till their lungs were spent,
personalities are too coarse and filthy to be     PRIVILEGE OF PARLIAMENT,
quoted; but the very opening shows the spirit      Dreadi new g to be laidsfor by th heels," &c.
which it is written.be laid by th' heels," &
"Keeper, show me where to fix
"As I stroll the city. oft I                    On the puppy pair of Dicks:
See a building large and lofty,               By their lantern jaws and leathern,
Not a bow-shot from the college,              You might swear they both are brethrenHalf the globe from sense and knowledge!     Dick Fitzbaker, Dick the player!
By the prudent architect,                      Old acquaintance, are you there 
Plac'd against the church direct,             Dear companions, hug and kiss,
Making good my grandam's jest,                Toast Old Glorious in your -'Near the church'-you know the rest.          Tie them, keeper, in a tether,
" Tell us what the pile contains?          Let them starve and stink together;
Many a head that holds no brains.              Both are apt to be unruly,
These demoniacs let me dub                    Lash them daily, lash them duly;
With the name of Legion Club.                 Though'tis hopeless to reclaim them,
Such assemblies, you might swear,             Scorpion rods, perhaps, may tame them."
Meet when butchers bait a bear:                                     Vol. x. pp. 553, 554.




WORKS OF JONATHAN SWIFT,                                     91
Such were the libels which a Tory writer distinguish between a promise and a bargain; for
found it safe to publish under a Whig admin- he will be sure to keep the latter, when he has the
istration in 1736; and we do not find that any fairest offer."-Vol. iv. pp. 149-152.
national disturbance arose from  their impu-   We have not left ourselves room  now to
nity,-though the libeller was the most cele- say much of Swift's style, or of the general
brated and by far the most popular writer of character of his literary genius: —But our
the age.  Nor was it merely the exasperation  opinion may be collected from  the remarks
of bad fortune that put that polite party upon we have made on particular passages, and
the use of this discourteous style of discus- from  our introductory observations on the
sion. In all situations, the Tories have been  school or class of authors, with whom  he
the great libellers-and, as is fitting, the must undoubtedly be rated.  On the subjects
great prosecutors of libels; and even in this to which he confines himself, he is unqueseprly age of their glory, had themselves, when  tionably a strong, masculine, and perspicuous
in power, encouraged the same licence of writer.  He is never finical, fantastic, or
defamation, and in the same hands.  It will absurd-takes advantage of no equivocations
scarcely be believed, that the following char- in argument-and puts on no tawdriness for
acter of the Earl of Wharton, then actually  ornament. Dealing always with particulars,
Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, was publicly  he is safe from all great and systematic misprinted and sold, with his Lordship's name  takes; and, in fact, reasons mostly in a series
and addition at full length, in 1710, and was of small and minute propositions, in the handone of the first productions by which the rev- ling of which, dexterity is more requisite than
erend penman bucklered the cause of the genius; and practical good sense, with an
Tory ministry, and revenged himself on a exact knowledge of transactions, of far more
parsimonious patron.  We cannot afford to importance than profound and high-reaching
give it at full length-but this specimen will judgment.  He did not write history or phianswer our purpose.                           losophy, but party pamphlets and journals;not satire but particular lampoons; —not
"Thomas, Earl of' Wharton, Lord Lieutenant pleasantries for all mankind bu   t jokes for a
of Ireland, by the force of a wonderful constitution, pleasantries for all mankind, but okes for a
has some years passed his grand climateric, without  particular circle. Even in his pamphlets, the
any visible effects of old age, either on his body or broader questions of party are always waved,
his mind; and in spite of a continual prostitution to to make way for discussions of personal or imthose vices which usually wear out both. His be- mediate interest. His object is not to show
haviour is in all the forms of a young man at five- that the Tories have better principles of govand-twenty. Whether he walks, or whistles, or emnent than the Whigs,-but to prove Lord
talks bawdy, or calls names, he acquits himself in ern
each, beyond a templar of three years' standing.-  Oxford an angel, and Lord Somers a fiend, to
He seems to be but an ill dissembler, and an ill liar, convict the Duke of Marlborough of avarice
although they are the two talents he most practises, or Sir Richard Steele of insolvency; —not to
and most values himself upon. The ends he has point out the wrongs of Ireland, in the depresgained by lying, appear to be more owing to the fre-  of her Catholic population, her want of
quency, than the art of them: his lies being some- Sationf her Cathe discouraement of her want of
times detected in an hour, often in a day, and al-       o       r the discouragement of her inways in a week. He tells them freely in mixed dustry; but to raise an outcry against an
companies, although he knows half of those that amendment of the copper or the gold coin, or
hear him to be his enemies, and is sure they will against a parliamentary proposition for remitdiscover them the moment they leave him. He tinr the tithe of agistment.  For those ends,
swears solemnly he loves and will serve you; and it   o
your back is no sooner turned, but he tells those   cannot be denied that he chose his means
about him, you are a dog and a rascal. He goes judiciously, and used them with incomparable
constantly to prayers in the forms of his place, and skill and spirit.  But to choose such ends,
will talk bawdy and blasphemy at the chapel-door. we humbly conceive, was not the part either
Hie is a presbyterian in politics, and an atheist in of a high intellect or a high character; and
religion; but he chooses at present to whore witha his genius must share  in the  disparage
papist,-He has sunk his fortune by endeavouring
tc ruin one kingdom, and has raised it by going far      h ought perhaps to be confined to
Hn the ruin of another.                       the  impetuosity and vindictiveness of his
" He bears the gallantries of his lady with the temper.
indifference of a stoic; and thinks them well re-   Of his style, it has been usual to speak with
compeinsed, by a return of children to support his great, and, we think, exaggerated praise.  It
family, without the fatigues of being a father.   less mellow  than Dr         less elean
"He has three predominant passions, which you than Pope's or Addison less free an
wirll seldom find united in the same man, as arising than Pope's or Addison'sless free and noble
from different dispositions of mind, and naturally than Lord Bolingbroke's-and utterly without
thwarting each other: these are, love of power, the glow and loftiness which belonged to our.,ove of money, and love of pleasure; they ride him  earlier masters.  It is radically a low and
sometimes by turns, sometimes all together. Since homely style-without grace and without afhe went into Ireland, he seems most disposed to fectation; and chiey remarkable for a great
the second, and has met with great success; hayfectation; and chiefly remarkable for a great
the second, and has met with great success; having gained by his goverment, of under two years, choice and profusion of common words and
five-and-forty thousand pounds by the most favour- expressions.  Other writers. who have used a
able computation, half in the regular way, and half plain and direct style, have been for the most
in the prudential.                            part jejune and limited in their diction, and
"rHe was never yet known to refuse, or keep a generally give us an impression of. the poverty
promise, as I remember he told a lady, but with an                        f th 
exception to the promise he then made (which was as we  as te  tameness o  tir anguaged
to get her a pension); yet he broke even that, and, but Swift, without ever trespassing into figured
I confess, deceived us both. But here I desire to or poetical expressions, or ever emplonllg a




92                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
word that can be called fine, or pedantic. has that except 3001. which he got for Gulliver, ho
a prldigious variety of good set phrases al- never made a farthing by any of his writings.
ways at his:ommand, and displays a sort of Pope understood his trade better, —and not
homely richness, like the plenty of an old only made knowing bargains for his own
English dinner, or the wardrobe of a wealthy works, but occasionally borrowed his friends'
burgess. This taste for the plain and sub- pieces, and pocketed the price of the whole.
stantial was fatal to his poetry, which subsists This was notoriously the case with three
not on such elements; but was in the highest volumes of Miscellanies, of which the greater
degree favourable to the effect of his humour, part were from the pen of Swift.
very much of which depends on the imposing   In humour and in irony, and in the talent of
gravity with which it is delivered, and on the debasing and defiling what he hated, we join
various turns and heightenings it may receive with all the world in thinking the I)ean of St,
from a rapidly shifting and always appropriate Patrick's without a rival. His humour, though
expression. Almost all his works, after The sufficiently marked and peculiar, is not to be
Tale of a Tub, seem to have been written easily defined. The nearest description we
very fast. and with very little minute care of can give of it, would make it consist in exthe diction. For his own ease, therefore, it pressing sentiments the most absurd and
is probable they were all pitched on a low  ridiculous-the most shocking and atrocious
key, and set about on the ordinary tone of a — or sometimes the most energetic and origi
familiar letter or conversation; as that from  nal-in a sort of composed, calm, and unconwhich there was a little hazard of falling, scious way, as if they were plain, undeniable
even in moments of negligence. and from  commonplace truths. which no person could
which any rise that could be effected, must dispute, or expect to gain credit by announcing
always be easy and conspicuous. A man -and in maintaining them, always in the
fully possessed of his subject, ihdeed, and gravest and most familiar language, with a
confident of his cause, may almost always consistency which somewhat palliates their
Write with vigour and effect, if he can -et extravagance, and a kind of perverted ingeover the temptation of writing finely, and nuity, which seems to give pledge for their
really confine himself to the strong and clear sincerity. The secret. in short, seems to conexposition of the matter he has to bring for- sist in employing thle language of humble
ward. Half of the affectation and offensive good sense, and simple undoubting conviction,
pretension we meet with in authors, arises to express, in their honest nakedness. sentifrom a want of matter,-and the other half, ments which it is usually thought necessary
from a paltry ambition of being eloquent and to disguise under a thousand pretences-or
ingenious out of place. Swift had complete truths which are usually introduced with a
confidence in himself; and had too much real thousand apologies. The basis of the art is
business on his hands, to be at leisure to in- the personating a character of great simplicity
trigue for the fame of a fine writer;-in con- and openness, for whom the conventional or
sequence of which, his. writings are more ad- artificial distinctions of society are supposed
mired by the judicious than if he had bestowed to have no existence; and making use of this
all his attention on their style. He was so character as an instrument to strip vice and
much a man of business, indeed, and so much folly of their disguises, and expose guilt in all
accustomed to consider his writings merely as its dceformity, and truth in all its terrors.  Inmeans for the attainment of a practical end-  dependent of the moral or satire, of which
whether that end was the strengthening of a they may thus be the vehicle, a great part of
party, or the wounding a foe' that he not only the entertainment to be derived from works
disdained the reputation of a comhposer of of humour, arises from the contrast between
pretty sentences, but seems to have been the grave, unsuspecting indifference of the
thoroughly indifferent to all sorts of literary character personated. and the ordinary feelfame. He enjoyed the notoriety and influence ings of the world on the subjects which he
which he had procured by his writings; but discusses. This contrast it is easy to heighten,
it was the glory of having carried his point, by all sorts of imputed absurdities: in which
and not of having written well, that he valued. case, the humour degenerates into mere farce
As soon as his publications had served their and buffoonery. Swift has yielded a little to
turn, they seem to have been entirely forgot- this temptation in The Tale of a Tub; but
ten by their author; —and, desirous as he was scarcely at all in Gulliver, or any of his later
of being ric.ier, he appears to have thought writings in the same style. Of his talent for
as little of making money as immortality by reviling, we have already said at least enough,
means of them. He mentions somewhere, in some of the preceding pages.




NaxD. DU DEFFAND AND MLLE. DE LESPINASSE.                       95
(3anuaqr, 1810.)
Correspondance inedite de MADAME DU DEFFAND, avec DI.lembert, Montesquieu, le Presideni
Henault, La Duchesse du Maine, AMesdames de Choiseul, De Staal, 4c. 5c. 3 tomes, 12mo.
Paris: 1809.
Lettres de MADEMOISELLE DE LESPINASSE, ecrites depuis l'Annie 1773 jusqu'a l'Annee 1776, &c.
3 tomes; 12mo. Paris: 1809.
THE popular works of La Harpe and Mar-   Where the letters that are now given to the
montel have made the names at least of these world have been secreted for the last thirty
ladies pretty well known in this country; and years, or by whom they are at last publishwe have been induced to place their corres- ed, we are not informed in either of the works
pondence under one article, both because their before us. That they are authentic, we conhistory is in some measure connected, and ceive. is demonstrated by internal evidence;
because, though extremely unlike each other, though, if more of them are extant, the selecthey both form a decided contrast to our own tion that has been made appears to us to be a
national character, and, taken together, go far little capricious.  The correspondence of
to exhaust what was peculiar in that of France. Madame du Deffand reaches from the year
Most ef our readers probably remember 1738 to 1764; —that of Mademoiselle de Leswhat La Harpe and Marmontel have said of pinasse extends only from 1773 to 1776. The
these two distinguished women; and, at all two works, therefore, relate to different peevents, it is not necessary for our purpose to riods; and, being entirely of different characgive more than a very superficial account of ters, seem naturally to call for a separate
them. Madame du Deffand was left a widow  consideration. We begin with the corresponwith a moderate fortune, and a great reputa- dence of Madame du Deffand, both out of
tion for wit, about 1750; and soon after gave respect to her seniority, and because the va
up her hotel, and retired to apartments in the riety which it exhibits seems to afford room
couvent de St. Joseph, where she continued to for more observation.
receive, almost every evening, whatever was   As this lady's house was for Fifty years the
most distinguished in Paris for rank, talent, resort of every thing brilliant ill Paris, it is
or accomplishment. Having become almost natural to suppose, that she herself must have
blind in a few years thereafter, she found she possessed no ordinary attraction-and to feel
required the attendance of some intelligent an eager curiosity to be introduced even to
young woman, who might read and write for that shadow of her conversation which we
her, and assist in doing the honours of her may expect to meet with in her correspondconversazioni. For this purpose she cast her ence. Though the greater part of the letters
eyes on Mademoiselle Lespinasse. the illegiti- are addressed to her by various correspondmate daughter of a man of rank, who had ents, yet the few which she does write are
been boarded in the same convent, and was strongly marked with the traces of her pecufor some time delighted with her election. liar character and talent; and the whole taken
By'and bye, however, she found that her together give a very lively idea of the strucyoung companion began to engross more of ture and occupations of the best French sothe notice of her visitors than she thought ciety, in the days of its greatest splendour.
suitable; and parted from her with violent, Laying out of view the greater constitutional
ungenerous, and  implacable  displeasure. gaiety of our neighbours, it appears to us, that
Mademoiselle de Lespinasse however, carried this society was distinguished from any that
with her the admiration of the greater part of has ever existed in England, by three circumher patroness' circle; and having obtained a stances chiefly: —in the first place, by.the
small pension from government, opened her exclusion of all low-bred persons; secondly
own doors to a society not less brilliant than by the superior intelligence and cultivation ol
that into whicd she had been initiated under the women; and, finally, by the want of politi.
Madame du Deffanl. Thae fatigue, however cal avocations, and the absence of political
which she had undergone in reading the old antipathies.
marchioness asleep, had irreparably injured   Bv the first of these circumstances, the old
her health, which was still more impaired by Parisian society was rendered considerably
the agitations of her own inflammable and more refined, and infinitely more easy and
ambitious spirit; and she died, before she had natural. The general and peremptory proobtained middle age, about 1776,-leaving on scription of the bourgeois, excluded, no doubt,
the minds of almost all the eminent men in a good deal of vulgarity and coarseness; but
France, an impression of talent, and of ardour it had a still better effect in excluding those
of imagination, which seems to have been feelings of mutual jealousy and contempt, and
considered as without example. Madame du that conflict of family pride and consequential
Deffand continued to preside in her circle till opulence, which can only be prevented from
a period of extreme old age; and died in disturbing a more promiscuous assembly, by
1780, in full possession of her faculties.  means of universal and systematic reserve.




94                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
Where all are noble, all are equal — there is had nothing but society to attend to; whe-eas}
no room for ostentation or pretension of any in the latter, almost all who are conside, able
sort;-every one is in his place everywhere; for ranks or for talents, are continually enand the same manners being familiar to the grossed with politics. They have no leisure,
whole society from their childhood, manners therefore, for society, in the first place: in the
cease in a great measure to be an object of second place, if they do enter it at all, they are
attention. Nobody apprehends any imputa- apt to regard it as a scene rather of relaxation
tion of vulgarity; and nobody values himself than exertion; and, finally, they naturally
on being free from it. The little peculiarities acquire those habits of thinking and of talkby which individuals are distinguished, are ing, which are better adapted to carry on
ascribed, not to ignorance or awkwardness. business and debate, than to enliven people
but to caprice merely. or to peculiarity of dis- assembled for amusement. In England, men
position; and not being checked by contempt of condition have still to perform the high
or derision, are indulged, for the most part, as duties of citizens and statesmen, and can only
caprice or disposition may dictate; and thus rise to eminence by dedicating their days and
the very highest society is brought back, and nights to the study of business and affairsby the same causes, to much of the freedom  to the arts of influencing those, with whom,
and simplicity of the lowest.             and by whom, they are to act-and to the
In England, we have never had this ar- actual management of those strenuous conrangement. The great wealth of the mercan- tentions by which the government of a free
tile classes, and the privilege which every state is perpetually embarrassed and preman here possesses of aspiring to every situa- served. In France, on the contrary, under
tion, has always prevented any such complete the old monarchy, men of the first rank had
separation of the high and the low-born, even no political functions to discharge —no control
in ordinary society, and made all large assem- to exercise over the government-and no rights
blages of people to a certain degree promis- to assert, either for themselves or their fellow
cuous. Great wealth, or great talents, being subjects. They were either left, therefore,
sufficient to raise a man to power and emi- to solace their idleness with the frivolous ennence, are necessarily received as a sufficient chantments of polished society, or, if they had
passport into private company; and fill it, on any object of public ambition, were driven to
the large scale, with such motley and dis- pursue it by the mediation of those favourites
cordant characters, as visibly to endanger or mistresses who were most likely to be won
either its ease or its tranquillity. The pride by the charms of an elegant address, or the
of purse, and of rank, and of manners, mutu- assiduities of a skilful flatterer.,lly provoke each other; and vanities which   It is to this lamentable inferiority in the
were undiscovered while they were univer- government and constitution of their country,
sal, soon become visible in the light of oppo- that the French are indebted for the superitite vanities. With us. therefore, society, ority of their polite assemblies. Their saloons
when it passes beyond select clubs and asso- are better filled than ours, because they have no
ciations, is apt either to be distracted with senate to fill out of their population; and their
little jealousies and divisions, or finally to conversation is more sprightly, and their sosettle into constraint, insipidity, and reserve. ciety more animated than ours, because there
People meeting from all the extremes of life, is no other outlet for the talent and ingenuity
are afraid of being misconstrued, and despair of the nation but society and conversation.
of being understood. Conversation is left to Our parties of pleasure, on the other hand, are
a few professed talkers; and all the rest are mostly left to beardless youths and superansatisfied to hold their tongues, and despise nuated idlers-not because our men want
each other in their hearts.               talents or taste to adorn them, but because
The superior cultivation of French Women, their ambition, and their sense of public duty,
however, was productive of still more sub- have dedicated them  to a higher service.
stantial advantages. Ever since Europe be- When we lose our constitution-when the
came civilised, the females of that country houses of parliament are shut up, our assemhave stood more on an intellectual level with blies, we have no doubt, will be far more anithe men than in any other,-and have taken mated and rational. It would be easy to have
their share in the politics and literature, and splendid gardens and parterres, if we would
public controversies of the day, far more only give up our corn fields and our pastures:
largely than in any other nation with which nor should we want for magnificent fountains
we are acquainted. For more than two cen- and ornamental canals, if we were contented
turies, they have been the umpires of polite to drain the whole surrounding country of the
letters, and the depositaries and the agents of rills that maintain its fertility and beauty.
those intrigues by which the functions of gov-   But, while it is impossible to deny that the
ernment are usually forwarded or impeded. French enjoyed, in the agreeable constitution
They could talk, therefore, of every thing that of their higher society, no slight compensation
men could wish to talk about; and general for the want of a free government, it is curious,
conversation. consequently, assumed a tone, and not unsatisfactory, to be able to trace the
both less frivolous and less uniform) than it operation of this same compensating principle
has ever attained in our country.         through all the departments we have alluded
The grand source, however, of the differ- to. It is obviously to our free government,
once between the good society of France-and and to nothing else that we owe that mixture
of England, is, that, in the former counry, men of ranks and of characters, which certainly




MAD. DU DEFFAND AND MLLE. DE LESPINASSE.                          9b
renders our large society less amiable, and looked upon as having renounced both the gay
less unconstrained, than that of the old French and busy world; and the consequence is, that
nobility. Men, possessed of wealth and po- the gay are extremely frivolous, and the aclitical power, must be associated with by all tive rash and superficial; while the man of
with whom they choose to associate, and to genius is admired by posterity, and finishes
whom their friendship or support is material. his days rather dismally, without knowing or
A trader who has bought his borough but yes- caring for any other denomination of men,
terday, will not give his influence to any set than authors, booksellers and critics.
of noblemen or ministers, who will not receive   This distinction too, we think, arises out of
him  and his family into their society, and the difference of government, or out of some
agree to treat them as their equals. The same of its more immediate consequences. Our
principle extends downwards by impercepti- politicians are too busy to mix with men of
ble gradations; —and the whole community is study; and our idlers are too weak and too
mingled in private life, it must be owned with frivolous. The studious therefore, are driven
some little discomfort, by the ultimate action in a great measure to herd with each other,
of the same principles which combine them, and to form a little world of their own, in
to their incalculable benefit, in public.  which all their peculiarities are aggravated,
Even the backwardness or the ignorance of their vanity encouraged, and their awkwardour women may be referred to the same no- ness confirmed. In Paris, where talent and
ble origin. Women have no legal or direct idleness met together, a society grew up, both
political functions in any country in the uni- more inviting and more accessible to men of
verse. In the arbitrary governments of Eu- thought and erudition. What they commurope; however, they exert a personal influence nicated to this society rendered it more intelover those in power and authority, which ligent and respectable; and what they learned
raises them  into consequence, familiarizes from it, made them much more reasonable,
them in some degree with business and affairs, amiable, and happy. They learned, in short,
and leads them to study the character and the the true value of knowledge and of wisdom,
dispositions of the most eminent persons of by seeing exactly how much they could con..
their day. In free states, again, where the tribute to the government or the embellishpersonal inclination of any individual can go ment of life; and discovered, that there were
but a little way, and where every thing must sources both of pride and of happiness, far
be canvassed and sanctioned by its legitimate more important and abundant than thinking,
censors, this influence is very inconsiderable; writing, or reading.
and women are excluded almost entirely from    It is curious, accordingly, to trace in the
any concern in those affairs, with which the volumes before us, the more intimate and
leading spirits of the country are necessarily private life of some of those distinguished
occupied. They come, therefore, almost un- men, whom we find it difficult to represent to
avoidably, to be considered as of a lower order ourselves under any other aspect, than that
of intellect, and to act, and to be treated, upon of the authors of their learned publications.
that apprehension. The chief cause of their D'Alembert, Montesquieu, Henault, and sevinferiority, however, arises from the circum- eral others, all appear in those letters in their
stances that have been already stated. Most true and habitual character, of cheerful and
of the men of talent in upper life are engaged careless men of the world-whose thoughts
in pursuits from which women are necessarily ran mostly on the little exertions and amuseexcluded, and have no leisure to join in those ments of their daily society; who valued even
pursuits which might occupy them in com- their greatest works chiefly as the means of
mon. Being thus abandoned in a good degree amusing their leisure, or of entitling them to
to the society of the frivolous of our sex, it is the admiration of their acquaintances; and
impossible that they should not be frivolous occupied themselves about posterity far less
in their turn. In old France. on the contrary, than posterity will be occupied about them.
the men of talents in upper life had little to It will probably scandalize a good part of our
do but to. please and be pleased with the wo- meni of learning and science (though we think
men; and they naturally came to acquire that it will be consolatory to some) to be told, that
knowledge and those accomplishments which there is great reason for suspecting that the
fitted them for such society.             most profound of those authors looked upon
The last distinction between good French learning chiefly as a sort of tranquil and inand good English society, arises from the dif- nocent amusement; to which it was very well
ferent position which was occupied in each to have recourse when more lively occupaby the men of letters. In France, certainly, tions were not at hand, but which it was wise
they mingled much more extensively with the and meritorious, at all times, to postpone to
polite world,-incalculably to the benefit both pleasant parties, and the natural play, either
of that world, and of themselves. In England, of the imagination or of the affections. It apour great scholars and authors have commonly pears, accordingly, not only that they talked
lived in their studies, or in the society of a easily and familiarly of all their works to theii
few learned friends or dependants; and their female friends, but that they gave themselves
life has been so generally gloomy, laborious very little anxiety either about their sale, oi
and inelegant, that literature and intellectual their notoriety out of the sphere of their own
eminence have lost some of their honours, and acquaintances, and made and invited all sorts
much of their attraction. With us, when a of jokes upon them with unfeigned gaiety and
man takes to authorship, he is commonly indifference. The lives of our learned men




96                          LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
would be much happier, and their learning  simplicity and openness of his character —his
much more useful and amiable, if they could  perpetual gentleness and gaiety in societybe persuaded to see things in the same light. the unostentatious independence of his senti.
It is more than time, lbwever, to introduce  ments and conduct-his natural and cheerful
the reader to the characters in the volumes superiority to all feelings of worldly ambition
before us.                                      jealousy, or.envy —and that- air of perpetual
Madame du Deffand's correspondence con- youth and unassuming kindness) which made
slsts of letters from  Montesquieu, D:Alem- him so delightful and so happy in the society
bert, Henault, D'Argens, Formont, Bernstorff, of women,-are traits which we scarcely exScheffer, &c. among the men,-and Mesdames pect to find in combination with those splendid
de Staal, de Choiseul, &c. among the women. qualifications; and compose altogether a charHer own letters, as we have already intimat- acter of which we should have been tempted
ed, form  but a very inconsiderable part of to question the reality, were we not fortunate
the collection; —and, as these distinguished  enough to be familiar with its counterpart in
names naturally excite, in persons out of Paris, one living individual.*
more interest than that of any witty mar-   It is not possible, perhaps, to give a better
chioness whatsoever, we shall begin with  idea of the charatcter of D'Alembert, than
some specimens of the intimate and private merely to state the fact, and the reason of his
style of those eminent individuals, who are  having refused to go to Berlin, to preside over
already so well known for the value and the  the academy founded there by Frederic.  In
beauty of their public instructions.           answer to a most flattering and urgent appliOf these, the oldest and the most popularly  cation from that sovereign, he writes thus to
known, was Montesquieu,-an  author who  M. D'Argens.t
frequently appears profound when he is only    " La situation ou je suis seroit peut-etre, monparadoxical, and seems to have studied with  sieur, un motif suffisant pour bien d'autres, de regreat success the art of hiding a desultory and  noncer a leur pays. Ma fortune est au-dessous du
fantastical style of reasoning in imposing  m6iocre; 1700 liv. de rente fonttout monrevenu:
aphorisms, ~and epigrams of considerable ef- entierement independant et maitre de mes volontes,
aphorisms, and epigrams of considerable ef- je n'ai point de famille qui s'y oppose; oubli6 du
feet. It is impossible to read the Esprit des gouvernement commrre tant de gens le sont de la
Loix, without feeling that it is the work of an  Providence, persecute' meme autant qu'on peut
indolent and very ingenious person, who had  I'Atre quand on evite de donner trop d'avantages
fits of thoughtfulness and ambition; and had  sur soi a la mechancete des hommes; je n'ai aucune
meditated the different points which it com- part aux recompenses qui pleuvent Ici sur les gens
prgintervalse and then con rect-n de lettres, avec plus de profusion que de lumieres.
prehends at long intervalsM and then connect- Malgr6 tout cela, monsieur, la tranquillit6 dont je
ed them  as he best could, by insinuations,  jouis est si parfaite et si douce, que je ne puis me
metaphors, and vague verbal distinctions. r6soudre a lui faire courir le moindre risque."There is but little of him in this collection; "Superieur a la mauvaise fortune, les epreuves de
but what there is, is extremely characteristic. toutepece que j'ai essuyees dans ce genre, mont
D'Alembert had proposed that he should write endurci a l'indigence et au malheur, et ne m'ont
laiss6 de sensibilite que pour ceux qui me ressemthe articles Democracy and Despotism, for the  blent. A force de privations, je me suis accoutume
Encyclopedie; to which proposal he answers sans effort a me contenter du plus etroit ndcessaire,
with much naivete, as follows:                 et je serois meme en 6tat de partager mon peu de fortune avec d' honnetes gens plus pauvres que moi. J'ai
"Quant a mon introduction dans l'Encyclope- commence, comme les autres hommes, par desirer
die, c'est un beau palais ou Je serais bien glorieux  les places et les richesses, j'ai fini par y renoncer abde mettre les pieds; mais pour les deux articles solument; et de jour en jour je m'en trouve mieux.
Democratie et Despotisme, je ne voudrais pas pren- La vie retiree et assez obscure que je mene est
dre ceux-la; j'ai tire, sur ces articles, de mon cer- parfaitement confirme a mon caractere, a mon
veau tout ce qui y etait. L'esprit que j'ai est un amour extreme pour l'irde(pendance, et peut-etre
moule; on n'en tirejamais que les memes portraits: meme a un peu de'loignement que les evnnemens
ainsi je ne vous dirais que ce que j'ai dit, et peut- de ma vie m'ont inspire pour les hommes. La re.
6tre plus mal que je ne I'ai dit. Ainsi, si vous traite ou le regime que me prescrivent mon etat et
voulez de moi, laissez a mon esprit le choix de quel- mon gout m'ont procure la sante la plus parfaite et
ques articles; et si vous voulez ce choix, ce fera la plus egale-c'est-i-dire, le premier bien d'un
chez madame du Deffand avec du marasquin. Le  philosophe; enfinj'ai le bonheur de jouir d'un petit
pere Castel dit qu'il ne peut pas se corriger, parce nombre d'amis, dont le commerce et la confiance
qu'en corrigeant son ouvrage, il en fait un autre; et font la consolation et le charme de ma vie. J ugez
moi je ne puis pas me corriger, parce que je chante  maintenant vous-m8me, monsieur, s'il m'est possitoujours la mgme chose. I1 me vient dans l'esprit ble de renoncer a ces avantages, et de changer un
que je pourrais prendre peut-etre l'article Gouit, et bonheur sfur pour une situation toujours incertaine,
je prouverai bien que dificile est proprie' communia quelque btillante qu'elle puisse etre. Je ne doute
dicere."-Vol. i. pp. 30, 31.                   nullement des bontes du roi, et de tout ce qu'il peut
There is likewise another very pleasing letter to M. de Henault, and a gay copy of verses   * It cannot now offend the modesty of any living
to Madame de Mirepoix; —but we hasten on  reader, if I explain that the person here alluded to
orwas my excellent and amiable friend, the late Proto a personage still more engaging.  Of all fessor Playfair.
the men of genius that ever existed, D'Alem-   t This learned person writes in a very affected
bert perhaps is the most amiable and truly  and precieuse style. He ends one of his letters to
respectable.  The great extent and variety of D'Alembert with the following eloquent expreshis learning, his vast attainments and dis- sion:-" Ma sante s'effoiblit tous les jours de plus
coveries in the mathematical sciences, and the  en plus; et je me dispose a aller faire bientot mes,oyreverences au peire 6ternel: mais tandis que je resbeauty and eloquence of his literary composi- terai dans ce monde je serai le plus zele de vos adtions, are known to all the world: But the  mirateurs."




MAD, DU DEFiFAND AND MLLE. DE LESPINASSE.                                     Q7
faire pour me rendre agreable mon nouvel etat; derai ce que je gagnerai: il n'y a pas d'apl arence
mais, malheureusement pour moi, toutes les circon- que cela se monte fort haut; il n'y a pas d'applstances essentielles a mon bonheur ne sont pas en  rence non plus que je continue a travailler dans co
son pouvoir. Si ma sant6 venoit a s'alterer' ce qui genre. Jeferai de la geometrie, et je lirai Tacite!
ne seroit que trop a craindre, que deviendrois-je  II me semble qu'on a grande envie que je me taise.
alors? Incnpable de me rendre utile au roi, je me  et en v6rit6 je ne demande pas mieux. Quand ma
ferrois force a aller finir mes jours loin de lui, et a petite fortune ne suffira plus a ma subsistence, je
reprendre dans ma patrie, ou ailleurs, mon ancien  me retirerai dans quelque endroit ou je puisse vivre
etat, qui auroit perdu ses premiers charmes. Peut- et mourir a bon marche. Adieu, Madame. Es.
8tre meme n'aurois-je plus la consolation de re- timez, comme moi, les hommes ce qu'ils valent, et
trouver en France les amis que j'y aurois laisses, et il ne vous manquera rien pour C'tre heureuse;  On
a qui je percerois le cceur par mon depart. Je vous dit Voltaire raccommode avec le roi de Prusse, et
avoue, monsieur, que cette derniere raison seule  Maupertuis retombe.  Ma foi, les hommes sont
peut tout sur moi.                                bien foux, a commencer par les sages."-Vol. ii.
" Enfin (et je vous prie d'etre persuad6 que je ne  pp. 50, 51.
cherche point a me parer ici d'une fausse modestie)   "Eh bien! vous ne voulez donc pas, ni Formont
e doute que je fusse aussi propre a cette place que  non plus, que je me claquemnure dans ma geome-. M. veut bien le croire.  Livre de's mon enfance  trie? J'en suis pourtant bien tente. Si vous saviez
a des etudes continuelles, je n'ai que dans la thhorie  combien cette gomhtrie est une retraite douce a la
la connoissance des hormmes, qui est si necessaire  paresse! et puis les sots ne vous lisent point, et par
dans la p atique quand on a affaire a eux. La tran- consequent ne vous blament ni ne vous louent: et
quillit6, et, si je l'ose dire, I'oisivete du cabinet, comptez-vous cet avantage-la pour rien? En tout
m'ont rendu absolument incapable des details aux- cas, j'ai de la geometrie pour un an, tout au moins.
quels le chef d'un corps doit se livrer. D'ailleurs, Ah! que je fais a present de belles choses que perdans les diff6rens objets dont l'Academie s'occupe, sonne ne lira!
il en est qui me sont entie'rement inconnus, comme    "J'ai bien quelques morceaux de litt'.dture a
la chimie, l'histoire naturelle, et plusieurs autres, traiter, qui seroient peut-8tre assez agnrables; mais
suir lesquels par consequent je ne pourrois 8tre aussi je chasse tout cela de ma tete, comme mauvais train.
utile que je le d6sirerois. Enfin une place aussi La g6ometrie est ma femme, et je me suis remis en
brillante que celle dont le roi veut m'honorer, oblige  menage.
a une sorte de representation tout-a-fait eloign6e    "Avec cela, j'ai plus d'argent devant moi que
du train de vie que j'ai pris jusqu'ici; elle engage je n'en puis depenser. Ma foi, on est bien fou de
o un grand nombre de devoirs: et les devoirs soent se tant tourmenter pour des choses qui ne rendent
les entraves d'un homme libre."-Vol. ii. pp.73-78. pas plus heureux: on a bien plutot fait de dire: Ne
TkiSc wrhole transaction was kept quite se- pourrois-je pasmepasser de cela? Et c'est la recette
rTkswhole transaction was kept quite1 s  e- dont j'use depuis long-temps."-Vol. ii. pp. 52, 53.;:al for many months; and. when it began to
take air, he speaks of it to Madame du Def-    With all this softness and carelessness of
fand, in the following natural manner.            character, nothing could be more firm  and
"Apres tout, que cela se rpande ou ne se re- inflexible when  truth and  justice were in
pande pas, je n'en suis ni fache' ni bien-aise. Je  question.  The President Henault was the
garderai au roi de Prusse son secret, meme lorsqu'il oldest and first favourite of Madame du Defne l'exige plus, et vous verrez aisement que mes fand; and, at the time of publishiri  the En
lettrps n'ont pas 6te faites pour etre vues du minis- cyclopmdia, Madame du Deffand had more.
d,.e de France; je suis bien rhsolu de ne lui pas power over D'Alembert than any other person..
demander plus de graces qu'aux ministres du roi de She wished very much that somethin atterCongo; et je me contenterai que la posthrite lise She wished very much that something flattersur mon tombeau; ilfut estime des honnetes gens, ing should be said of her favourite in the Inet:i! mort pauvre, parce qu' il I'a bien voulu. Voila, troductory Discourse, which took a review of
madame, de quelle mantere je pense. Je ne veux  the progress of the arts and sciences; but:
braver ni aussi flatter les gens qui m'ont fait du mal, D'Alembert resisted, with heroic courage, all)
on qui sont dansa disposition de m'en faire; mais je  the entreaties that were addressed to him on
me conduirai de manicre que je les rhduirai seulement a ne me pas faire du bien."-Vol. ii. pp. 33, 34  this subject.  The following may serve as4
specimens of the tone which he maintained:
Upon  publishing  his Melanges, he was on the occasion.
furiously attacked by a variety of acrimonious
writers; and all his revenge was to retire to    "Je suis devenu cent fois plus amoureux de la.
his geometry, and to write such letters as the  retraite et de la solitude, que je ne l'etois quand
following to Madame du Deffand.                  vous avez quitte Paris. Je dine et soupe chez moi:
tous les jours, ou presque tous les jours, et je me,
"Me voila claquemure pour long-temps, et vrai- trouve tres-bien de cette maniere de vivre. Je vous
semblablement pour toujours, dans ma triste, mais verrai done quand vous n'aurez personne, et aux
tres-chere et tres-paisible Ghometrie! Je suis fort heures ou je pourrai esperer de voubn rouver seule:
content de trouver un pretexte pour ne plus rien  dans d'autres temps, j'y rencontrerois votre presi.
faire, dans le dechainemrent que mon livre a excite dent, qui m'embarrasseroit, parce qu'il croiroit avoir
contre moi. Je n'ai pourtant ni attaque personne, des reproches a me faire, que je ne crois point en
ni meme designe qui que ce soit, plus que n'a fait meriter, et que je ne veux pas atre dans le cas de le
l'auteur du Mechant, et vingt autres, contre lesquels desobliger, en me justifiant aupre's de lui. Ce que
personne ne s'est dechaine.  Mais il n'y a qu'heur vous me demandez pour lui est impossible, et je
et malheur. Je n'ai besoin ni de l'amitie de tous puis vous assurer qu'il est bien impossible, puisque
c0s gens-la, puisque assurement je ne veux rien je tie fais pas cela pour vous. En premier lieu, le
lsur demander, ni de leur estime, puisque j'ai bien  Discours preliminaire est imprime, il y a plus de six:
rhsolu de ne jamais vivre avec eux: aussi je les mets semaines: ainsi je ne pourrois pas l'y fourrer aua pis faire.                                     jourd'hui, mgme quand je le voudrois. En second
"Adieu, Madame; hatez votre retour. Que ne  lieu, pensez-vous de bonne foi, madame, que dans.
savez.vous de la gomhtrie! qu'avec elle on se  un ouvrage destine a celebrer les grands ghnies de
passe de bien des choses!"-Vol. i. pp. 104, 105.  la nation et les ouvrages qui ont veritablement con-.
";Mon ouvrage est publie; il s'est un peu vendu; tribue aux progres des lettres et des sciences, je
lea frais de 1'impression sont atetitrs; lea eoges, doive parler de l'Abr6ge chronologiqu?  C'est
lea crticquea et ~argent *iendront qxand ils 1on- un ourvraae utile, j'en conviens, et asses commode;
dront-"- -"Je n'ai encore rena touch& Je vous man;- mais voila tout en virit6: c'est li. e qip lea gem.




98                           LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
de lettres en pensent, c'est la ce qu'on en dira quand J mens: c'est un medicament n6cessaire a la sante,
le president ne sera plus: et quand je ne serai plus notre princesse le pense bien; car 6tant v6ritablemoi, je suis jaloux qu'on ne me reproche pas ment malade, elle va sans fin, sans cesse, quelque
d'avoir donne d'6loges excessifsa' personne."-  temps qu'il fasse."-Vol. i. p. 168.
Vol. ii. pp. 35, 36.                                " Nos faisons, nous disons toujours les memeo
"J'ai une confession a vous faire: j'ai parle' de choses: les promenades, les observations sur lo
lui dans l'Encyclopedie, non pas a Chronologie, car vent, le cavagnole, les remarques sur la perte et le
cela est pour Newton, Petau et Scaliger, mais a gain, les mesures pour tenir les portes fermees quelChronologique. J'y dis que nous avons, en notre  que chaud qu'il fasse, la desolation de ce qu'on aplangue, plusieurs bons abreges chronologiques: le pelle les 6touffs, au nombre desquels je suis, e
sien, un autre qui vaut pour le moins autant, et un  dont vous n'etes pas, qualite qui redouble le desi,
troisienme qui vaut mieux.  Cela n'est pas dit si de votre societe." —Vol. i. p. 197.
crument, ainsi ne vous fachez pas. II trouvera la    "Rien n'est 6gal a la surprise et au chagrin oui
louange bien mince, surtout la partageant avec I'on est, ma reine, d'avoir appris que vous avez ete
d'autres; mais Dieu et vous, et meme vous toute  chez Madame la Duchesse de Modene. Un amant
seule, ne me feroient pas changer de langage."-  bien passionne' et bien jaloux supporte plus tran"Il fera sur l'Academle tout ce qui lui plaira; ma quillement les d6marches les plus suspectes, qu'on
conduite prouve que je ne desire point d'en etre, et n'endure celle-ci de votre part.'Vous allez vous
en verite Je le serois sans lui, si j'en avois bien d6vouer la, abandonner tout le reste; voila a quoi
envie; mais le plaisir de dire la v6rite librement on etoit reserve: c'est une destinee bien cruelle!'
quand on n'outrage ni n'attaque personne, vaut &c. J'ai dit ce qu'il y avait a dire pour ramener
mieux que toutes les Academies du monde, depuis le calme; on n'a voulu rien entendre.  Quoique je
la Frangoise, jusqu'a celle de Dugast."-" Puisque  ne doive plus m'etonner, cette scene a encore trouve
je suis dej a d'une Acad6mie, c'est un petit agre- moyen de me surprendre. Venez, je vous conjure,
ment de plus que d'etre des autres; mais si j'avois  ma reine, nous rassurer contre cette alarme: ne
mon experience, et quinze ans de moins, je vous louez point la personne dont ii s'agit, et surtout ne
reponds que je ne serois d'aucune."-Vol. ii. pp. parlez pas de son affliction; car cela serait pris pour
56-64.                                            un reproche."-Vol. ii. pp. 22, 23.
We may now take a peep at the female    All this is miserable: but such  are the
correspondents,-in the first rank of whom   necessary consequences of being  bred up
we must place Madame de Staal, so well among flatterers and dependants.  A prince
known to most of our readers by her charm- has more chance to escape this heartlessness
ing Memoirs.  This lady was attached to the  and insignificance; because he has high and
court of the Duchess of Maine; and her let- active duties to discharge; which necessarily
ters, independent of the wit and penetration  occupy his time, and exercise his understandthey display, are exceedingly interesting, from  ing; but the education of a princess is a work
the near and humiliating view  they afford of  of as great difficulty as it may come to be cf
the miserable ennui; the selfishness and paltry  importance.  We must make another extraot
jealousies which brood in the atmosphere of  or two from Madame de Staal, before taking
a court, —and abundantly avenge the lowly  leave of her.
for the outward superiority that is assumed
by its inhabitants. There are few things more' Madame du Chatelet et Voptaire, q  s'etaient
instructive, or more compassionable, than the  annonces pur auourd'hui et q'on avait perdus d
i  vue, parurent hier, sur le minuit, comme deux
picture which Madame de Staal has drawn in  spectres, avec une odeur de corps embaumes qu'ils
the following passages, of her poor princess semblaient avoir apportee de leurs tombeaux.  On
dragging herself about in the rain and the  sortait de table. C'etaient pourtant des spectres
-burning sun, in the vain hope of escaping from  affames: il leur fallut un souper, et qui plus est, des
the  load of her own inanity,-seekisng relief  lits, qui n'etaient pas prepares. La concierge, deja
the multitude of  er visnanitors eeking relief  couchee, se leva a grande hate.  Gaya, qui avait,in the multitude of her visitors, from the sad  offert son logement pour les cas pressans, fut force.~acuity of friendship and animation around  de le ceder dans celui-ci, demenagea avec autant'her,-and poorly trying to revenge herself for de precipitation et de d6plaisir qu'une arm6e sur-.her own unhappiness, by making every body  prise dans son camp, laissant une partie d  son
<uear her uncomfortable.                          bagage au pouvoir de l'ennemi.  Voltaire s'est
bien trouve du gite: cela n'a point du tout console
"Je lus avant-hier votre lettre, ma reine, a S. A. Gaya. Pour la dame, son lit ne s'est pas trouve
El11e 6tait dans un acces de firayeur du tonnerre, qui bien fait: il a fallu la deloger aujourd'hui.  Notez
ne fit pas valoir vos galanteries. J'aurai soin une  que ce lit elle I'avait fait elle-m8me, faute de gens,
autre fois de ne vous pas exposer a l'orage.  Nous et avait trouv' un defaut de.... dans les matelas,
nageons ces jours passes dans la joie; nous nageons ce qui, je crois, a plus blesse son esprit exact que
a present dans lapluie. Nosidees, devenuesdouces son corps peu delicat."-" Nos revenans ne se
et agreables, vont reprendre toute leur noirceur.  montrent point de jour, ils apparurent hier a dix
Pardessus cela est arriv6, depuis deux jours, a notre  heures du soir: je ne pense pas qu'on les voie guere
princesse un rhume, avec de la fievre: ce nonob- plus tft aujourd'hui; l'un est a d6crire de hauts
stant et malgre le temps diabolique, la promenade  faits, l'autre a commenter Newton; ils ne veulent
va toujours son train. II semble que la Providence  ni jouer ni se promener: ce sont bien des non-vaprenne soin de construire pour les princes des corps leurs dans une societe, ou leurs doctes 6crits ne sont
a l'usage de leurs fantaisies, sans quoi ils ne pour- d'aucun  rapport."-" Madame du Chatelet est
raient attraperafge d'homme."'-Vol. i. pp. 161,162. d'hier a son troisieme logement: elle ne pouvait
"En d6pit d'un troisieme orage plus violent que plus supporter celui qu'elle avait choisi; il y avait
les deux precedens, nous arrivons d'une chasse: du bruit, de la fum6e  sans feu (il me semble que
nouts avons essuye la bordee au beau milieu de la c'est son embleme).  Le bruit, ce n'est pas la nuit
foret.  J'esp6rais eviter comme a l'ordinaire cette qu'il l'incommode, a ce qu'elle m'a dit, mais le
belle partie; mais on a adroitement tire parti des rai- jour, au fort de son travail: cela derange ses idees.
sons que j'avais alleguees pour m'en dispenser; ce Elle fait actuellement la revue de ses principes!.qui m'a mis hors d'etat de reculer. C'est dommage  c'est un exercice qu'elle reitere chaque annee, sans
qu'un art si ingenieux soit employ6 a desoler les quoi ils pourraient s'echapper, et peut-etre s'en aller
gens."-Vol. i. p. 164.                            si loin qu'elle n'en retrouverait pas un seul. Jo
" J suis tres faich6e que vous manquiez d'amuse- crois bien que sa tete est pour eux une maison de




MAD. DU DEFFAND AND MLLE. DE LEMSPINASSE.                                   99
turce, et non pas le lieu de leur naissance: c'est le  ficile d'avoir moins de sensibilite, et plus
cas dA veiller soigneusement a leur garde. Ee d'gosme.   With all his se was greatly
pr~ffre le bon -ir de cette occupation a tout amuse-.
prhet epersie a Pre  setteoc qupationatout amuse, given to gallantry in her youth; though her
rdent, et persiste i ne se montrer qu'~ la nuit close.
Voltaire a fait des ves galans, qui rarent un peu  attachments, it would seem, were of a kind
le mauvais effet de leur conduite inusitee."-Vol. i. not very likely to interfere with her peace of
pp. 178, 179. 182. 185, 186.                     mind.  The very evening her first lover died,
After all this experience of the follies of the  after an intimacy of twenty years, La Harpe
great and the learned, this lively little woman  assures us, "Qu'elle  vint souper en grande
concludes in the true tone of French practical compagnie chez Madame de Marchals,
philosophy.                                      j'6tais; et on lui parla de la perte qu'elle venait de faire.  Hilas! ii est mort ce soir a six
" O ma reine! que les hommeset leurs femellescela vous ne me  errie
sont de plaisans animaux! Je ris de leurs mancu- heures;  sans celame verrez ps 
vres, le jour que j'ai bien dormi; quand le som- Ce furent ses propres paroles; et elle soupa
rnei me manque, je suis prete a les assommer. comme a son ordinaire, clest-a-dire fort bien;
Cette variete de mes dispositions me fait voir que car elle etait tres-gourmande." (Pref. p. xvi.)
je ne degenere pas de monespece. Moquons-nous She is also recorded to have frequently dedes autres, et qu'ils se moquent de nous; c'est clared, that she could never bring herself to
bien fait de toute part!"-Vol. i. p. 181.h,  in order to take
love any thing,-though. in order to take
Among the lady writers in these volumes, every possible chance, she had several times
we do not know if there be any entitled to  attempted to become devote —with no great
take precedence of la Duchesse de Choiseul, success.  This, we have no doubt, is the
who writes thus learnedly on the subject of secret of her ennui; and a fine example it is
ennui to Madame du Deffand.                     of the utter worthlessness of all talent, ac*' iSavez-vous pourquoi vous vous ennuyez tant, complishment, and glory, when disconnected
ma chere enfant? C'est justement par la peine from those feelings of kindness and generosity,
que vous prenez d'eviter, de prevoir, de combattre which are of themselves sufficient for happiI'ennui. Vivez au jour la journee; prenez le temps ness.  Madame du Deffand, however, must
commne il vient; profitez de tous les momens, et have been delightful to those who sought only
avec cela vous verrez que vous ne vous ennuierez  foramusement.  Her toneisadmirable; her
pas: si les circonstances vous sont contraires, cedez
au torrent et ne pretendez pas y resister."-     wit flowing and natural; and though a little
" Je m'apergois, ma chere enfant, que je vous given to detraction, and not a little importudis des choses bien communes; mais accoutumez- nate and exigeante towards those on whose
vous a les supporter, 10, parce que je ne suis pas complaisance she had claims, there is always
en 6tat de vous en dire d'autres; 2~, parce qu'en an air of politeness in her raillery and of
morale eres sont toujours les plus vraies, parcef the world in 
qu'elles tiennent a la nature. Apres avoir bien knowledge of the world i her murmurs, that
exerce son esprit, le philosophe le plus eclaire sera prevents them  from  being either wearisome
oblige d'en revenir, a cet egard, a l'axiome du plus or offensive.
grand sot, de mcme qu'il partage avec lui l'air qu'il   Almost all the letters of her writing which
respire."-" Les prejuges se multiplient, les arts are published in these volumes, seem to have
s'accroissent, les sciences s'approfondissent: mais been written  in the month of July  1742
la morale est toujours la mgme, parce que la nature
ne change pas; elle est toujours reduite a ces deux when she spent a few weeks at the waters ot
points: 8tre juste pour 8tre bon, etre sage pour Forges, and wrote almost daily to the Presi6tre heureux. Sadi, poete Persan, dit que la sa- dent Henault at Paris.  This close corresgesse est dejouir, la bonte defairejouir: j'y ajoute pondence of theirs fills one of these volumes;
Ia justice."-                                    and, considering the rapidity and carelessness
" I y a trois choses dont vos dites que les fem-written,
mes ne conviennent jamais: l'une d'entre elles est
de s'ennuyer. Je n'en conviens pas non plus ici: must give, we should think, a very correct,
malgre vos soupgons, je vois mes ouvriers, je crois and certainly a very favourable idea of the
conduire leurs ouvrages. A ma toilette, j'ai cette style of their ordinary  conversation.  We
petite Corbie qui est laide, mais fraiche comme une shall give a few extracts very much at ranpQche, folle comme un Jeune chien; qui chante, dom.  She had made the journey along with
qui rit, qui joue du clavecin, qui danse, qui saute
au lieu de marcher, qui ne sait ce qu'elle fait. eta Madame de Pequigni, of whom  she give
fait tout avec grace, qui ne sait ce qu'elle dit, et dit the following account.
tout avec esprit, et surtout une naivete charmante.
La nuit je dors. le jour je reve, et ces plaisirs si   "Mais venons a un article bien plus interessant,
doux, si passifs, si betes, sont precisement ceux qui c'est ma compagne.  O  mon Dieu! qu'elle me
me conviennent le mieux."-Vol. ii. pp. 134, 135. deplait!  Elle est radicalement folle; elle ne connoit point d'heure pour ses repas; elle a dejeune a
It is time now  that we should come to  Gisors a huit heures du matin, avec du veau froid;
Madame du Deffand herself:-the wittiest, the  a Gournay, elle a mange du pain trempe dans le
most selfish, and the most ernrtuy of the whole  pot, pour nourrir un Limousin, ensuite un morceau
party.   Her wit, to be sure, is very enviable  de brioche, et puis trois assez grands biscuits. Nous
and very entertaining; but itsure   is really e nviable  arrivns, il n'est que deux heures et demie, et ello
and very entertaining; but it is really COn- veut du riz et une capilotade; elle mange cornme
solatory to common mortals, to find how little  un singe; ses mains ressemblent a leurs pattes; elle
it could amuse its possessor.  This did not ne cesse de bavarder. Sa pretention est d'avoir de
proceed in her, however. from the fastidious- l'imagination, et de voir toutes choses sous des faces
ness which is sometimes supposed to arise  singuligres, et comme la nouveaute' des idees lui
from  a long familiarity Mith excellence, so  manque, elle y supplee par la bizarrerie de l'ex.
much as from a long habit of selfishness, or pression, sous pr6texte qu'elle est naturelle. Elle
me declare toutes ses fantaisies, en m'assurant
rather from  a radical want of heart or affec- qu'elle ne veut que ce qui me convient; mais js
tlOn. La Harpe says of her, "Qu'il etoit dif- crains d'etre force a etre sa complaisante; cepen.




100                         LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
dant je compte bien que cela ne s'etendra pas sur suis ravle, je vois la fin de la journ6e avec aei.'es.
ce qui interessera mon regime. Elle comptoit tout Si Je n'avais pas mon lit et mon fauteuil, je serais
a l'heure s'6tablir dans ma chambre pour y laire cent fois plus malheureuse."-Vol. iii. pp. 96-98.
ses repas, mais je lui ai dit que j'allois 6crire: je
l'ai priee de faire dire h Madame Laroche les heures    The following, though short, is a good spec,
ou elle vouloit manger et ce qu'elle voudroit man- imen of the tone in which she treats her
ger, et oi elle vouloit manger; et que, pour moi, lover.
je comptois avoir la meme liberte: en consequence   Je crois que yous me regrettez, c'est-i-dire,
je manuerai du riz et un poulet a huit heures du                                      c
soir."-Vol. ii. pp. 191, 192.                   que vous pensez beaucoup a moi. Mais (comme
de raison) vous vous divertissez fort bien: vous etes
After a few days she returns again to this comme les quie6istes, vous faites tout en moi, pour
unfortunate companion.                          moi et par moi; mais le fait est que vous faites tout
sans moi et que vos journees se passent gaiement,
"La Pequigni n'est d'aucune ressource, et son que vous jouissez d'une certaine libert6 qui vous
esprit est comme l'espace: il y a etendue, profon- plait, et vous etes fort aise que pendant ce temps-la
deur, et peut-etre toutes les autres dimensions que je travaille a me bien porter. Mes nuits ne sont
je ne saurais dire, parce que je ne les sais pas; pas trop bonnes, et je crois que c'est que je mange
mais cela n'est que du vide pour l'usage.  Elle un peu trop: hier je me suis retranche le beutt, au.
a tout senti, tout juge, tout eprouve, tout choisi, jourd'hui je compte reformer la quantit6 de pain."
tout rejet6; elle est, dit-elle, d'une difficulte sin- -_,  N'allez point vous corriger sur rien, j'aime que
guliere en compagnie, et cependant elle est toute vous me parliez ormeaux, ruisseaux, moineaux, etc.,
a journee  avec toutes nos petites madames a et ce m'est une occasion tres-agreable de vous donjaboter comme une pie. Mais ce n'est pas cela ner des d6mentis, de vous confondre, de vous tourqui me deplait en elle: cela m'est commode des menter, c'est je crois ce qui contribue le plus a me
auJourd'hui, et cela me sera tres agreable sitot faire passer mes eaux."-Vol. iii. pp. 126, 127. 129.
que Formont sera arrive.  Ce qui m'est insupportable, c'est le diner; elle a l'air d'une f'olle    We have scarcely left ourselves room  to
en mangeant; elle depece une poularde dans le give any of the gentleman's part of this corplat oi on la sert, ensuite elle la met dans un autre, respondence.  It is very pleasingly and gaily
se fait rapporter du bouillon pour mettre dessus, sustained byhim,-though he deals mostly in
tout semblable a celui qu'elle rend, et puis elle                                      a little
prend un haut d'aile, ensuite le corps dont elle ne the tittle-tattle of Paris, and appears a little
mange que la moitie; et puis elle ne veut pas que vain of his own currency and distinction. We
l'on retourne le veau pour couper un os, de peur extract the following paragraphs, just as they
qu'on n'amollisse la peau; elle coupe un os avec turn up to us.
toute la peine possible, elle le ronge a demi, puis
retourne a sa poularde; apres elle pele tout le    "Je ne crois pas que l'on puisse tre heureux en
dessus du veau, ensuite elle revient a ronger sa province quand on a pass6 sa vie a Paris; mais
poularde: cela dare deux heures. Elle a sur son heureux qui n'a jamais connu Paris, et qui n'ajoute
assiette des morceaux dos rong6es, du peaux su- pas necessairemnent a cette vie les maux chimecees, et pendant ce temps, ou je m'ennuie, a la riques, qui sont les plus grands! car on peut guerir un
mort, ou je mange plus qu'il ne faudrait. C'est seigneur qui gemit de ce qu'il a 6t6 grel6, en lui
une curiosite de lui voir manger un biscuit; cela faisant voir qu'il se trompe, et que sa vigne est coudure une demi-heure, et le total, c'est qu'elle verte. de raisin; mais la grle6 metaphysique ne peut
mange commne un loup: il est vrai qu'elle fait un  etre combattue. La nature, ou la providence n est
exercice enrage. Je suis fachee que vous ayez de pas si injuste qu'on le veut dire; n'y mettons rien
commun avec elle l'impossibilite de rester une du notre, et nous serons moins a plaindre; et puis
minute en repos.".-Vol. iii. pp. 39-41.         regardons le terme qui approche, le marteau qui va
frapper l'heure, et pensons que tout cela va disThe rest of her company do not come any  paraitre.
better off.  The lady she praises most, seems   " Ah! l'inconcevable Pont de Veyle! il vient de
to come near to the English character.          donner une parade chez M. le duc d'Orleans: cette
scene que vous connaissez du vendeur d'orvietan.
" Madame de Bancour a trente ans; elle n'est Au lieu du Forcalquier, c'elait le petit Gauffin qui
pas vilaine; elle est tres douce et tres polie, et ce faisait le Giles; et Pont de Veyle a distribue au
n'est pas sa faute de n'etre pas plus amusante; moins deux cents bo'ites avec un couplet pour tout
c'est faute d'avoir rien vu: car elle a du bon sens, le monde: il est plus jeune que quand vous I'avez
n'a nulle pretention, et est fort naturelle; son ton vu la premiere fois; il s'amuse de tout; n'aime rien;
de voix est doux, naifet meme un pen niais, dans et n'a conserve de la m6moire de la defunte que la
le gout de Jeliot; si elle avaitvecu dans le monde, haine pour la musique frangaise."-Vol. i. pp.
elle serait aimable: je lui fais conter sa vie; elle 110, 111.
est occupee de ses devoirs, sans austerite ni osten- At the end of the letters, there are placed
tation; si elle ne m'ennuyait pas, elle me plairait a variety   of p the or charaters  f the most
assez." —Vol. iii. p. 26.                       a variety of portraits, or characters of the most
-   distinguished persons in Madame du DefThe following are some of her wailings fand's society, written by each other-some.
over her banishment.                            times with great freedom, and sometimes
" I1 me prend des 6tonnemens funestes d'8tre ici: with much flattery-but almost always with
c'est comme la pens6e de la mort; si je ne m'en  wit and penetration.  We give the following
distrayais, j'en mourrais reellement. Vous ne sau- by Madame  du  Deffand  as a specimen
riez vous figurer la tristesse de ce seJour; mais si hefly   because it is shorter than most of the
fait, puisque vous 8tes a Plombieres: mais non;
c'est que ce n'est point le lieu, c'est la compagnie others.
dont il est impossible de faire aucun usage. Heu.   "Madame la Duchesse d'Aiguillon a la b:uche
rensement depuis que je suis ici, j'ai un certain enfonce, le nez de travers, le regard fol et hardi,heb8tement qui ferait que je n'entendrais pas le plus et malgre cela elle est belle. L'eclat de son teint
vetit raisonnement: je vegete." —" Je ne crois l'emporte sur l'irregularit(e de ces traits.
pas qu'aucun remede puisse 6tre bon lorsqu'on    "Sa taille est grossiere, sa gorge, ses bras sont
b'ennuie autant que je fais: ce n'est pas que je enormes; cependant elle n'a point l'air pesant ni
supporte mon mal patiemment; mais jamais je ne 6pais: la force supplee en elle a la l6eeret6.
suis bien-aise, et ce n'est que parce que je vegete    "Son esprit a beaucoup de rapport a sa fig-ire: il
quo je suis tranquille: quand dix henres arrivent je est pour ainsi dire aussi mal 0cssine qua son visage




MAD. DU DEFFAND AND MLLE. LESPINASSE.                                10I
et aussi eclatant: I'abondance, l'activi.e, l'impetu- who did not make jests at their friends' ca.
osite en sont les qualites dominantes. Sans gout, lamities, were glad. at any rate, to forget them
sans grace, et sans Justesse, elle 6tonne, elle sur- in the society of those who did.  When we
preOn  pourrait co n paer Madame la D uchesse  recollect, tool that the desertion of all the high
d'Aiguillon a ces statues faites pour le cintre, et qui duties of patriots and statesmen, and the in.
paraissent monstrueuses etant dans le parvis. Sa sulting and systematic degradation of the great
figure ni son esprit ne veulent point utre vus ni ex- oody of the people were necessary conditions
amin6s de trop prs; une certaine distance estneces- of the excellence of this society we cannot
saire a sa beaute: des joges peu 6claires et pen hesitate in saying, that its brilliancy was
delicats sont les seuls qui puissent etre favorables a  tain      t at              an 
son esprit.                                   maintained at far too great a cost  and that
"Sernblable i la trompette du jugement, elle est the fuel which was wasted in its support,
faite pour resusciter les morts; ce sont les impuis- would have been infinitely better applied in
sans qui doivent l'aimer, ce sont les sourds qui doi- diffusing a gentler light, and a more genial
veint l'entendre. "-Vol. iii. pp. 154-156.    heat, through the private dwellings of the
There are three characters of Madame du land.
Deffand herself, all very flattering.  That by    We have occupied ourselves so long with
the President Henault is the least so. It ends Madame du Deffand and her associates, that
as follows.                                   we can afford but a small portion of our atten" Cependant, pour ne pas marquer trop de pr- tion for Mademoiselle de Lespinasse. A very
vention et obtenir plus de croyance, j'ajouterai que extraordinary person we will allow her to have
l'age, sans lui oter ses talens, l'avait rendue ja- been; and a most extraordinary publication
louse et m6fiante, cedant a ses premiers mouve- she has left us to consider.  On a former ocmens, maladroite pour conduire les hommes dont casion, we took some notice of the account
elle disposait naturellement; enfin de l'humeur which Marmontel had given of her character
inegale, injuste, ne cessant d'etre aimable qu'aux
yeux des personnes auxquelles il lui imnportait de
plaire, et, pour finir, la personne par laquelle j'ai any one, who had acted the unprincipled and
ete le plus heureux et le plus malheureux, parce selfish part which he imputes to her, should
qu'elle est ce que j'ai le plus aim6."-Vol. iii. p. 188. be thought worthy, either of the admiration
He is infinitely more partial to a Maiame he expresses, or of the friendship and patronde Flamarens, whose character he begins age of so many distinguished characters, or
with great elegance as follows                of the devoted attachment of such a man as
D'Alembert.  After reading these letters, we
" Madame de Flamarens a e visage le plus see much reason to doubt of the accuracy of
touchant et le plus modeste qui fur jamais; c'est un Marmontels representation but, at the same
genre de beauts que la nature n'a attrape qu'une
fois: il y a dans ses traits quelque chose de rare et time, find great difficulty in settling our own
de mystdrieux, qui aurait fait dire. dans les temps opinion of the author.  Marmontel describes
fabuleux, qu'une immortelle, sous cette forme, ne her as having first made a vain attempt upon
s'e'tait pas assez degisee!"-Vol. iii. p 196.  the heart of M. de Guibert, the celebrated
We take our leave now of these volumes: author of the Tactics,-and then endeavoured
and of the brilliant circle and brilliant days to indemnify herself by making a conquest of
of Madame du Deffand.  Such a society pro- M. de Mora the son of the Spanish ambassabably never will exist again in the world;- dor, upon whose death she is stated to have
nor can we say we are very sorry for it. died of mortification; and, in both cases, she
It was not very moral, we are afraid; and we is represented as having been actuated more
have seen, that the most distinguished mem- by a selfish and paltry ambition, than by any
bers of it were not very happy.  When we feeling of affection. The dates, and the tenor
say that it must have been in the highest de- of the letters before us, enable us to detect
gree delightfiul to those who sought only for many inaccuracies in this statement; while
amusement, we wish it to be understood, not they throw us into new perplexity as to the
only that amusement does not constitute hap- true character of the writer.  They begin in
piness, but that it can afford very little plea- 1773, after M. de Mora had been recalled to
sure to those who have not other sources of Spain by his relations, and when her whole
happiness.  The great extent of the accom- soul seems to be occupied with anguish for
plished society of Paris, and the familiarity  this separation; and they are all addressed to
of its intercourse, seems to have gradually  M. de Guibert, who had then recently recom.
brought almost all its members to spend their mended himself to her, by the tender interest
wlvoie lives in public.  They had no notion, he took in her affliction.  From  the very betherefore, of domestic enjoyments; and their ginning, however, there is more of love in
affections being dissipated among so many  them, than we can well reconcile with the
competitors, and distracted by such an inces- subsistence of her first engrossing passion;
sant variety of small occupations, came natur- and, long before the death of M. Mora, she
ally to be weakened and exhausted; anti a expresses the most vehement, unequivocal,
certain heartless gaiety to be extended indis- and passionate attachment to M. Guibert.
criminately to the follies and the misfortunes Sometimes she has fits of remorse for this;
of their associates.  Bating some little fits of but, for the most part, she seems quite uncongallantry, therefore, there could be no devo- scious, either of inconsistency or impropriety:
tedness of attachment; and no profound sym- and M. Guibert is, in the same letter, adpathy for the sufferings of the most intimate dressed in terms of the most passionate adofriends. Every thing, we find accordingly, ration, and made the confident of her unwas made a subject for epigrams; and those speakable, devoted; and unalterable love for




102.LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
M. Mora. So she goes on,-most furiously and -wretched, and so very angry, we (lo not hi
outrageously in love with them  both at the deed always understand; but there is no nis.
same time, —till the death of M. Mora, in taking the language and real emotion, and
1774. This event, however, makes no differ- while there is something wearisome, perhaps,
ence in her feelings or expressions; she con- in the uniformity of a vehemence of which we
tinues to love his memory, just as ardently as do not clearly see the cause, there is somehis living successor in her affection; and her thing truly dechirant in the natural and pite.
letters are divided, as before, between ex- ous iteration of her eloquent complainings,
pressions of heart-rending grief and unbounded  and something captivating and noble in the
attachment-between her besoin de mourir for fire and rapidity with which she pours out her
M. Mora, and her delight in living for M. emotions. The style is as original and extraGuibert.  There are still more inexplicable  ordinary as the character of its author. It is
things in those letters.  None of Guibert's quite natural, and even negligent-altogether
letters are given,-so that we cannot see how  without gaiety or assumed dignity-and yet
he responded to all these raptures; but, from  full of elegance and spirit, and burning with
the very first, or almost from  the first, she the flames of a heart abandoned to passion,
complains bitterly of his coldness and dissipa- and an imagination exalted by enthusiasm.
tion; laments that he has a heart incapable  It is not easy to fall into the measure of such
of tenderness; and that he feels nothing but a composer, in running over a miscellany of
gratitude or compassion for a being whom he amusement; but we cannot avoid adding a
had fascinated, exalted, and possessed with  few extracts, if it were only to make what
the most ardent and unbounded passion. We we have been saying intelligible, to some at
cannot say that we see any clear traces of her least of our readers.
ever having hoped, or even wished that he    "Je me sentois une repugnance mortelle a ourvir
should marry her.  On the contrary, she re- votre lettre: si je n'avois craint de vous offenser,
commends several wives to him; and at last j'allois vous la renvoyer. Quelque chose me disoit
he takes one, with her approbation and con- qu'elle irriteroit mes maux, et je voulois me mesent, while the correspondence goes on in the  nager.  La souffrance continuelle de mon corps
afibisse mon ame: j'ai encore eu la figvre; je n'ai
same tone as before. The vehemence and  pas ferm6 l'ceil; je n'ei puis plus. De grace, par
excess of her passion continue to the last of piti6, ne tourmentezplusunevie qui s'eteint, et dont
the letters here published, which come down  tous les instans sont d6voues a la douleur et aux
to within a few weeks of her death, in 1776.  regrets. Je tie vous accuse point, je n'exige rien,
The account which we have here given ap- vous ne me devez rien: car, en effet, je n'ai pas eu
pears ridiculous: and there are people, and  un mouvement, pas un sentiment auquel j'ai consenti; et quand j'ai eu le malheur d'y c6der, j'ai
wise people, who, even after looking into the toujours d6test6 la force, ou la foiblesse, qui m'enbook, will think Mademoiselle de Lespinasse  trainoit. Vous voyez que vous ne me devez aucune
deserving of nothing but rldicule, and consign reconnaissance, et que je n'ai le droit de vous faire
her and her ravings to immeasurable con- aucun reproche. Soyez done libre, retournez a ce
tempt.  Gentle spirits, however, will judge  que vous aimez, et a ce qui vous convient plus que
more gently; and there are few, we believe  vous ne croyez peut-etre. Laissez-moi a ma douor gel ntere  e  e w  iev   leur; laissez-moi m'occuper sans distr.action du seul
who feel interest enough in the work to read  objet que j'ai adore, et dont. le souvenir m'est plus
it through, who will not lay it down with  cher que tout ce qui reste dans la nature. Mon
emotions of admiration and profound com- Dieu! je ne devrois pas le pleurer; j'aurois dfi le
passion.  Even if we did not know that she suivre: c'est vous qui me faites vivre, qui faites le
was the chosen companion of DIAlembert, tourment d'une creature qie la douleur consume,
and the respected friend of Turgot, Condillae  et qui emploie ce qui lui reste de forces a invoquer
and  the  r         espected f riend of Tursot Condillanc   la mort. Ah! vous en faites trop, et pas assez pour
Condorcet, and the first characters in France, moi. Je vous le disois bien il y a huit jours, vous
there are, in the strange book before us, such  me rendez difficile, exigeante: en donnant tout, on
traces of a powerful, generous, and ardent veut obtenir quelque chose. Mais, encore une fois,
mind, as necessarily to command the respect je vous pardonne, et je ne vous hais point: ce n'est
even of those who may be provoked with her pas par generosit6 que je vous pardonne, ce n'est
pas par bonit que je ne vous hais pas; c'est quo
inconsistencies, and wearied out with the ve- mon ame est lasse, qu'elle meurt de fatigue. Ah!
hemence of her sorrow.  There is something  mon ami, laissez-moi, ne me dites plus que vous
so natural too, so eloquent, and so pathetic in  m'aimez: ce baume devient du poison; vous calmez
her expression-a tone of ardour and enthusi- et d6chirez ma plaie tour a tour. Oh! qu vous
asm  so infectious, and so much of the true  me faites mal! que la vie me p'se! que je vous
and agonizing voice of heart-struck wretched- aime pourtant, etque je scrois d6solee de mettre de
la tristesse dans votre ame! Mon amrni, elle est trop
ness, that it burdens us with something of the partagee, trop dissip6e, pour que le vrai plaisir y
weight of a real sorrow; and we are glad to puisse p6eltrer. Vous voulez que je vous voie ce
make ourselves angry at her unaccountable- soir; et bien, venez done!"-Vol. ii. pp. 206-208.
ness, in order to get rid of the oppression.  It   "Combien de fois aurois-je pu me plaindre; comought to be recollected also, that during the bien de fois vous aije cache mes larmes! Ah! je
whtoleorseofllcthe  sponthatden thi e le vois trop bien: on ne sauroit ni retenir, ni rawhole course of the correspondence, this poor mener un coeur qui est entrainl par un autre penyoung woman was dying of a painful and ir- chant; je me le dis sans cesse, quelquefois je me
ritating disease.  Tortured with sickness, or crois guerie; vous paroissez, et tout est detruit.
agitated with opium, her blood never seems La r6flexion, rnes resolutions, le malheur, tout perd
inl all that time to have flowed peaceably in sa force au premier mot que vous prononcez. Je
ner veins and her nerves and her passio       ne vois ps d'asile que a mo, et jamais aucun
ipassions malheureux ne l'a invoquee avee plus d'ardeum.
seem  to have reacted upon each other in a Je retiens la moiti6 de mon ame: sa chaleur, son
series of cruel agitations. Why she is so very  mouvement vous importuneroit, et vous eteindrot,




MAD. DU DEFFAND AND MLLE. DE LESPINASSE.                                   10)
tout-4-fait; le feu qui n'echauffe pas, incommode. the heart; and, when we think that this ex.
Ah! si vous saviez, si vous lisiez comme j'ai tait traordirary woman wrote all this, not in the
Jouir une ame forte et passionn6e, du plaisir d'etre  days of impatient youth  when the heart is
aim6e! 11 comparoit ce qui l'avoit aim6, ce qui
l'aimoit encore, et ii me disoit sans cesse:'Oh! strog for suffering, and takes a strarnge de
elles ne sont pas dignes d'etre vos 6colieres; votre light in the vehemence even of its painful
anle a 6t6 chauff6e par le soleil de Lima, et mes emotions. but after years of misery, and with
compatriotes semblent 8tre n6es sous les glaces de death before her eyes-advancing by gradual
la Laponie.' Et c'etoit de Madrid qu'il me mandoit but visible steps, it is impossible not to feel'cela!  Mon ami, i ne me louoit pas; il ouissoit; an indescribable emotion of pity, resentment,
et je ne crois point me louer, quand je vous dis andle emoiration          of pittle word moren
qu'en vous aimant a la folie, je ne vous donne que and admiration.  One little word more.
ce que je ne puis pas garder ou retenir."-Vol. ii.   "Oh! que vous pesez sur mon cceur, lorsque
p:P 215 217.                                     vous voulez me prouver qu'il doit etre content du
"Oh, mon Dieu! que l'on vitfort lorsqu'on est Vre! Je ne me plaindrois jamais  ais vous me
votre! Je ne me plaindrois jamais, mais vous me
mort a tout, excepte a un objet qui est l'univers forcez souvent a crier, tant le mal que vous me
pour nous, et qui s'empare tellement de toutes faitesestaiguetprofond! Monami,j'aiteaimee.,
nos facult6s, qu'il n'est plus possible de vivre dans  j le suis encore, et je meurs de regret en pensant
d'autres temps que dans le moment ou l'on est! que ce n'est pas de vous. J'ai beau me dire que je
Eh! comment voulez-vous que je vous dise si je        ritai jamais le bonheur que je regrette  mon
vous aimerai dans trois mois?  Comment pourrois- cceur cette fois fait taire mon amour-propre: ii me
je, avec ma pensee, me distraire de mon senti- dit que, si je dus jamais 8tre aim6e, c'6toit de celui
ment?  Vous voudriez que, lorsque je vous VOiS, qui auroit assez de charme a mes yeux, pour me dislorsque votre presence- charme mes sens et mon  traire de M. de M.    et pour me retenir a la vie,
ame, je pusse vous rendre compte de l'effet que je  apres l'avoir perdu. Je n'ai fait que languir depuis
recevrai de votre mariage; mon ami, Je n'en sais votre d6part; je n'ai pas ete une heure sans soufrien,-mais rien du tout. S'il me guerissoit, je france: le mal de moname passe a mon corps; j'ai
vous le dirois, et vous etes assez juste pour ne m'en  tous les jours la fievre, et mon medecin, qui nest
pas blamer. Si, au contraire, il portoit le d6sespoir pas le plus habile de tous les honmmes, me repete
dans mon ame, je ne me plaindrois pas, etje souffri- sans cesse que je suis consumee de chagrin, que
rois bien peu de temps. Alors vous seriez assez  mon pouls, que ma respiration annoncent une dousensible et assez d6licat pour approuver un parti qui lur active; et ii s'en va toujours en me disant:
ne vous couiteroit que des regrets passagers, et dont nous ntavons point de remede pour l'ame. I1 n'y en
votre nouvelle situation vous distrairoit bien vite; et a plus pour moi: ce n'est pas gurir que je voudrois,
Je vous assure que cette pensee est consolante pour mais me calmer, mais retrouver quelques momens
moi: Je m'en sens pltus libre. Ne me demandez  de repos pour me conduire a celui que la nature
donc plus ce que je ferai lorsque vous aurez engage  m'accordera bientat." —Vol. iii. pp. 146, 147.
votre vie a ure autre. Si Je n'avois que de I vanite    "Je nai plus assez de force pour mon-ame-elle
et de l'amour-propre, je serois bien plus 6claitee sur me tue. Vous ne pouvez plus rien sur moi, que
ce que j'eprouverai alors. 11 n'y a guere de meprise  me faire souffrir. Ne tachez donc plus a me consoaux calculs de l'amour-propre; il prevoit assez ler, et cessez de vouloir me faire le victime de votre
luste: la passion n'a point d'avenir; ainsi en vous morale, apris m'avoir fait celle de votre l6gerete.disant: je vous aime, Je vous dis tout ce que je sais Vous ne m'avez pas vue, parce que la journ6e n'a
et tout ce que Je sens.-Oh! mon ami, Je me sens que douze heures, et que vous aviez de quoi les
capable de tout, excepte de plier: j'aurois la force remplir par des interts et des plaisirs qui vous sont,
d'un martyr, pour satisfaire ma passion on celle de et qui doivent vous etre plus chers que mon malla personne qui m.'aimeroit: mais je ne trouve rien e u            e
heur. Je ne reclame rien, je n'exige rien, et je me
en moi qui me reponde de pouvoir jamais faire le dis sans cesse q   la source de mon bonhe1 r et de
sacrifice de mon sentiment. La vie n'est rien en
acrifice d  mon sentiment.  La vie n n  n  mon plaisir est perdu pour jamais."-Vol. iii. p. 59.
comparaison, et vous verrez si ce ne sont la que les
discours d'une tete exalt6e.  Oui, peut-etre ce sont   We cannot leave our readers with these'a les pensees d'une ame exaltee, mais a laquelle painful impressions; and shall add just one
appartiennent les actions fortes. Seroit-ce' la rai-.                       ha
son qui est si prevoyante, si foible dans ses vues, et word or two of what is gayest in these desomime si impuissante dans ses moyens, que ces lating volumes.
pensees pourroient appartenir? Mon ami, je ne suis    "M. Grinm  est de retour; je l'ai accable de
point raisonnable, et c'est peut-etre a force d'&tre  questions. II peint la Czarine, non pas comme une
passionnee que j'ai mis toute ma vie tant de raison a souveraine, mais comme une femme aimable, pleine
tout ce qui est soumis au Jugement et a l'opinion des d'esprit, de saillies, et de tout ce qui peut s6duire
indiffirens. Combien J'ai usurpe d'eloges sur ma et charmer. Mais dans tout ce qu'il me disoit, je
moderation, sur ma noblesse d'ame, stir mon d6sin- reconnoissois plutor cet art charmant d'une courtite'ressement, sur les sacrifices prdtendus que je  sane grecque, que la dignitet 1l'clat de l'Imperafaisois a une m6moire respectable et chere, et a la trice d'un grand empire."-Vol. ii. p. 105.
maison d'Alb....! Voila comme le monde Juge,   "Avant diner je vais voir rue de Clery des autocomme il volt! Eh, bon tDieu! sots que vous tes, mates; qui sont prodigieux, a ce qu'on dit. Quand
je ne.medrite pas vos lonantets: mon ame n'etoit j'allois dans le monde, je n'aurois pas eu cette cupas faire pour les petits interets qui vous occupent; riosite: deux on trois soupers en donnent satietd;
toute entiere au bonheur d'aimer et d'etre, aim6 il mais ceux de la rue de Clery valent mieux: ils
ne m'a fallu ni force, ni honnetet6 pour supporter agissent et ne parlent point. Venez-y, en allant
la pauvrete, et pour d6daigner les avantages de la au Marais, et je vous dirai la si j'ai la loge de M.
vanite.  J'ai tant joui, j'ai si bien senti le prix de la le duc d'Aumont. Madame de C.h..  ne vous croit
vie, que s'il falloit recommencer,'je voudrois que ce point coupable de negligence: elle m'a demande
filt aux memes conditions. Aimer et souffrir-le  aujourd'hui si votre retraite duroit encore.  Ce que
ciel, l'enfer,-voila a quoi je me devouerois, voila  les femmes veulent seulement, c'est d'etre pr6f6.
ce que Jo voudrois sentir, voila le climat que je vou- r6es. Presque personne n'a besoin d'8tre aime, et
drois habiter; et non cet etat tempere dans lequel cela est bien heureux: car c'est ce qui se fait le
vivent tous les sots et tous les automates dont nous plus mal a Paris. Ils osent dire qu'ils air.lent; et
aommes environnes."-Vol. ii. pp. 228-233.        ils sont calmes et dissipis! c'est assuruement bien
All this is raving no doubt; but it is the  connoirele sentimentetlapassion. Pauvresgens!
il faut les louer comme les Liliputiens: ils sont
raling of real passion, and of -a lofty and  bien jolis, bien gentils, bien aimables. Adieu, mon
plwerful spirit.  It is the eloquent raving oI ami."-Vol. ii. pp. 197, 198.




104                     LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
We have left ourselves no room to make visibly within a few weeks of her end, and is
any reflections; except, only, that the French wasted with coughs and spasms, she still has
fashion of living, and almost of dying, in her salon filled twice a day with company,
public, is nowhere so strikingly exemplified, and drags herself out to supper with all the
as in the letters of this victim of passion and countesses of her acquaintance.  There is a
of fancy. While her heart is torn with the great deal of French character, indeed, in
most agonizing passions, and her thoughts both the works of which we now take our
turned hourly on suicide. she dines out, and leave; —a great deal to admire, and to wonder
makes visits every day; and, when she is at-but very little, we think, to envy.
(2lugust, 1825.)
Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship: a Novel. From the German of GOETHE. 3 vols. 12mo.
pp. 1030. Edinburgh: 1824.
THERE are few things that at first sight ap- before judgment, warmth of feeling before
pear more capricious and unaccountable than  correct reasoning-and splendid declamation
the diversities of national taste; and yet there and broad humour before delicate simplicity
are not many, that, to a certain extent at least, or refined wit.'In the arts again, the progress
admit of a clearer explanation. They form  is strictly analagous-from mere monstrosity
evidently a section in the great chapter of to ostentatious displays of labour and design,
National Character; and, proceeding on the first in massive formality, and next in fantasassumption, that human nature is everywhere tical minuteness, variety, and flutter of parts;
fundamentally the same, it is not perhaps -and then, through the gradations of startvery difficult to indicate, in a general way, ling contrasts and overwrought expression, to
the circumstances which have distinguished  the repose and simplicity of graceful nature.
it into so many local varieties.            These considerations alone explain much
These may be divided into two great class- of that contrariety of taste by which different
es,-the one embracing all that relates to the nations are distinguished.  They not only
newness or antiquity of the society to which  start in the great career of improvement at
they belong, or, in other words, to the stage different times, but they advance in it with
which any particular nation has attained in different velocities-some lingering longer in
that great progress from rudeness to refine- one stage than another-some obstructed and
ment, in which all are engaged; —the other some helped forward, by circumstances opercomprehending what may be termed the ac- ating on them from within or from without.
cidental causes by which the character and  It is the unavoidable consequence, however,
condition of communities may be affected; of their being in any one particular position,
such as their government, their relative posi- that they will judge of their own productions
tion as to power and civilization to neighbour- and those of their neighbours, according to
ing countries, their prevailing occupations, that standard of taste which belongs to the
determined in some degree by the capabilities place they then hold in this great circle;of their soil and climate, and more than all and that a whole people will look on their
perhaps, as to the question of taste. the still neighbours with wonder and scorn, for admore accidental circumstance of the character miring what their own grandfathers looked on
of their first models of excellence, or the with equal admiration,-while they themkind of merit by which their admiration and  selves are scorned and vilified in return, for
national vanity had first been excited.   tastes which will infallibly be adopted by the
It is needless to illustrate these obvious grandchildren of those who despise them.
sources of peculiarity at any considerable    What we have termed the accidental causes
length. It is not more certain, that all primi- of great differences in beings of the same
tive communities proceed to civilization by nature, do not of course admit of quite so
nearly the same stages, than that the progress simple an exposition. But it is not in reality
of taste is marked by corresponding gradations, more difficult to prove their existence and
and may. in most cases, be distinguished into explain their operation.  Where great and
pel:ods, the order and succession of which is degrading despotisms have been early estabnearly as uniform and determined. If tribes lished, either by the aid of superstition or of
of savage men always proceed, under ordinary mere force, as in most of the states of Asia.
circumstances, from the occupation of hunting or where small tribes of mixed descent have
to that of pasturage, from that to agriculture, been engaged in perpetual contention for freeand from that to commerce and manufactures, dom and superiority, as in ancient Greecethe sequence is scarcely less invariable in the where the ambition and faculties of individ
fistory of letters and art.  In the former, uals have been chained up by the institution
verse is uniformly antecedent to prose-mar- of castes and indelible separations, as in India
vellous legends to correct history-exagge- and Egypt, or where all men practise all oc.
rated sentiments to just representations of cupations and aspire to all honours, as in Ger.
nature. Invention, in short, regularly comes many or Britain-where the sole occupation




GOETHE'S WILHELM  MEISTER.                             1OuZ
of the people has been war, as in infant Rome, together on any thing so purely accidental as
or where a vast pacific population has been the temperament or early history of a few in.
for ages inured to mechanical drudgery, as in dividuals. No doubt the national taste of
China-it is needless to say, that very oppo- France and of England would at this moment
site notions of what conduces to delight and have been different, had Shakespeare been a
amusement must necessarilyprevail; and that Frenchman, and Boileau and Racine written
the Taste of the nation must be affected both in English. But then, we do not think that
by the sentiments which it has been taught to Shakespeare could have been a Frenchman;
cultivate, and the capacities it has been led and we conceive that his character, and that
to unfold.                                of other original writers, though no doubt to
The influence of early models, however is be considered on the whole as casual, must
perhaps the most considerable of any; and yet have been modified to a great extent by
may be easily enough understood. When the circumstances of the countries in which
men have been accustomed to any particular they were bred. It is plain that no original
kind of excellence, they naturally become force of genius could have enabled Shakespeare
good judges of it, and account certain consid- to write as he had done, if he had been born
erable degrees of it indispensable,-while and bred among the Chinese or the Peruvians.
they are comparatively blind to the merit of Neither do we think that he coald have done
other good qualities'to which they had been so, in any other country but England-free,
less habituated, and are neither offended by sociable, discursive, reformed. familiar Engtheir absence, nor at all skilful in their estima- land-whose motley and mingling population
tion. Thus those nations who, like the English not only presented CC every change of manyaild the Dutch, have been long accustomed to coloured life" to his eye, but taught and pergreat cleanliness and order in their persons mitted every class, from the highest to the
and dwellings, naturally look with admiration lowest, to know and to estimate the feelings
on the higher displays of those qualities, and and the habits of all the others-and thus
are proportionally disgusted by their neglect; enabled the gifted observer not only to deduce
while they are apt to undervalue mere pomp the true character of human nature from this
and stateliness, when destitute of these re- infinite variety of experiments and examples
commendations: and thus also the Italians but to speak to the sense and the hearts o
and Sicilians) bred in the midst of dirt and each. with that truly universal tongue, which
magnificence, are curiously alive to the beau- every one feels to be peculiar, and all enjoy
ties of architecture and sculpture, and make as common.
but litle account of the more homely comforts   We have said enough, however, or rather
which are so highly prized by the others. In too much, on these general views of the subthe same way, if a few of the first successful ject-which in truth ifs sufficiently clear in
adventurers in art should have excelled in those extreme cases, where the contrariety is':y particular qualities, the taste of their na- great and universal, and is only perplexing
tion will naturally be moulded on that stand- when there is a pretty general conformity
ard —will regard those qualities almost ex- both in the causes which influence taste and
cl.-bviely as entitled to admiration, and will in the results. Thus, we are not at all surnot only consider the want of them as fatal to prised to find the taste of the Japanese or the
all pretensions to excellence, but will unduly Iroquois very different from our own-and
despise and undervalue other qualities, in have no difficulty in both admitting that our
themselves not less valuable, but with which human nature and human capacities are subtheir national models had not happened to stantially the same, and in referring this dismake them timeously familiar. If, for ex- crepancy to the contrast that exists in the
ample, the first great writers in any country whole state of society, and the knowledge,
snould have distinguished themselves by a and the opposite qualities of the objects to
pompous and severe regularity, and a certain which we have been respectively accustomed
elaborate simplicity of design and execution, to give our admiration. That nations living in
it will naturally follow, that the national taste times or places altogether remote, should diswill not only become critical and rigorous as agree in taste. as in every thing else, seems
to those particulars, but will be proportionally to us quite natural. They are only the nearer
deadened to the merit of vivacity, nature, and cases that puzzle. And, that great European
invention, when combined with irregularity, countries, peopled by the same mixed races,
homeliness, or confusion. While, if the great educated in the admiration of the same claspatriarchs of letters had excelled in variety sical models-venerating the same remains
and rapidity of invention, and boldness and of antiquity-engaged substantially in the
truth of sentiment, though poured out with same occupations-communicating everyday,
considerable disorder and incongruity of man- on business, letters, and society-bound up in
ner, those qualities would quickly come to be short in one great commonwealth, as against
the national criterion of merit, and the cor- the inferior and barbarous parts of the world,
rectress and decorum of the other school be should yet differ so widely-not only as to
d(espised, as mere recipes for monotony and the comparative excellence of their respective
tameness.                                 productions, but as to the constituents of exThese, we think, are the plain and certain cellence in all works of genius or skill, dons
effects of the peculiar chaEracter of the first indeed sound like a paradox, the solution of
great popular writers of all countries. But which every one may not be able to deduce
5till we do not conceive that they d ipend al- from'he preceding observations.




106                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
The great practical equation on which we according to our own principles of judgment alna
in this country have been hitherto most fre- habits of feeling; and, meaning nothingless than
quently employed, has been between our own to dictate to the readers or the critics of Gerstandard of taste and that which is recognized many what they should think of their favouramong our neighbours of France:-And cer- ite authors, propose oPly to let them know. in
tainly, though feelings of rivalry have some- all plainness and modesty, what we. and we
what aggravated its apparent, beyond its real really believe most of our countrymen. actually
amount, there is a great and substantial differ- think of this chef-d'oeuvre of Teutonic genius.
ence to be accounted for.-in the way we have   We must say, then, at once, that we cannot
suggested-or in some other way. Stating that enter into the spirit of this German idolatry
difference as generally as possible, we would nor at all comprehend upon what grounds the
say, that the French, compared with ourselves, work before us could ever be considered as
are more sensitive to faults, and less trans- an admirable, or even a commendable perported with beauties-more enamoured of art, formance. To us it certainly appears, after
and less indulgent to nature-more charmed the most deliberate consideration, to be emiwith overcoming difficulties, than with that nently absurd, puerile, incongruous, vulgar,
power which makes us unconscious of their and affected;-and, though redeemed by conexistence-more averse to strong emotions, or siderable powers of invention, and some traits
at least less covetous of them in their intensity of vivacity, to be so far from perfection, as to
-more students of taste, in short, than adorers be, almost from beginning to end: one flagrant
of genius-and far more disposed than any offence against every principle of taste, and
other people, except perhaps the Chinese, to every just rule of composition. Though indicircumscribe the rules of taste to such as they eating, in many places. a mind capable both
themselves have been able to practise, and to of acute and profound reflection, it is full of
limit the legitimate empire of genius to the mere silliness and childish affectation; —and
provinces they have explored. There has though evidently the work of one xwho had
been a good deal of discussion of late years, seen and observed much, it is throughout al.
in the face of literary Europe, on these de- together unnatural, and not so properly imbatable grounds; and we cannot but think probable, as affectedly fantastic and absurdthat the result has been favourable, on the kept, as it were, studiously aloof from general
whole, to the English, and that the French or ordinary nature —never once bringing us
have been compelled to recede considerably into contact with real life or genuine character
from many of their exclusive pretensions-a -and, where not occupied with the profesresult which we are inclined to ascribe, less sional squabbles, paltry jargon, and scenical
to the arguments of our native champions, profligacy of strollirng players, tumblers, and
than to those circumstances in the recent his- mummers (which may be said to form its
tory of Europe, which have compelled our staple). is conversant only with incompreheningenious neighbours to mingle more than sible mystics and vulgar men of whim, with
they had ever done before with the surround- whom, if it were at all possible to understand
ing nations-and thus to become better ac- them, it would be a baseness to be acquainted.
quainted with the diversified forms which Every thing, and every body we meet with,
genius and talent may assume.             is a riddle and an oddity; and though the tisBut while we are thus fairly in the way of sue of the story is sufficiently coarse, and the
settling our differences with France, we are manners and sentiments infected with a strong
little more than beginning them, we fear, with tinge of vulgarity, it is all kept in the air, like
Germany; and the perusal of the extraordinary a piece of machinery at the minor theatres,
volumes before us, which has suggested all and never allowed to touch the solid ground,
the preceding reflections, has given us, at the or to give an impression of reality, by the
same time, an impression of such radical, and disclosure of known or living features. In
apparently irreconcilable disagreement as to the midst of all this, however, there are, every
principles, as we can scarcely hope either to now and then, outbreakings of a fine specularemove by our reasonings, or even very satis- tion, and gleams of a warm and sprightly
factorily to account for by our suggestions.   imagination-an occasional wild and exotic
This is allowed, by the general consent of all glow of fancy and poetry-a vigorous heaping
Germany, to be the very greatest work of their up of incidents, and touches of bright and
very greatest writer. The most original, the powerful description.
most varied and inventive,-the most charac-   It is not very easy certainly to account for
teristic, in short, of the author, and of his coun- these incongruities, or to suggest an intelligitry. We receive it as such accordingly, with ble theory for so strange a practice. But in
implicit faith and suitable respect; and have so far as we can guess, these peculiarities
perused it in consequence with very great at- of German taste are to be referred, in part, to
tention and no common curiosity. We have the comparative newness of original compoperused it, indeed, only in the translation of sition among that ingenious people, and to
which we have prefixed the title: But it is a the state of European literature when they
translation by a professed admirer; and by one first ventured on the experiment-and in part
who is proved by his Preface to be a person of to the state of society in that great country
talents, and by every part of the work to be no itself, and the comparatively humble condition
ordinary master, at least of one of the languages of the greater part of those who write, or to
with which he has to deal. We need scarcely whom writing is there addressed.
say, that we profess to judge of the work only   The Germans, though undoubtedly an ima,




GOETHIE'S WILHELM  MEISTER.                              107
ginative and even enthus astic race, had ne- by not being altogether intelligible-effectuglected their native literat lre for two hundred ally excluded monotony by the rapidity and
years —and were chiefly known for their violence of their transitions, and promised to
learning and industry.  They wrote huge rouse the most torpid sensibility: by the vioLatinf treatises on Law and Theology-and lence and perseverance with which they thunput forth bulky editions and great tomes of dered at the heart. They were the very
annotations on the classics. At last, however, things, in short, which the German originals
they grew  tired of being respected as the were in search of;-and they were not slow,
learned drudges of Europe, and reproached therefore, in adopting and improving on them.
with their consonants and commentators; and In order to make them thoroughly their own,
determined, about fifty years ago, to show  they had onlyto exaggerate their peculiarities
what metal they were made of, and to give -to mix up With them a certain allowance
the world a taste of their quality, as men of of their old visionary philosophy, misty metagenius and invention. In this attempt the physics, and superstitious visions-and to infirst thing to be effected was at all events to troduce a few drazy sententious theorists, to
avoid the imputation of being scholastic imi- sprinkle over the whole a seasoning of rash
tators of the classics. That would have smelt speculation on morality and the fine arts.
too much, they thought, of the old shop; and    The style was'also to be relieved by a vain order to prove their claims to originality, it riety of odd coyrmparisons and unaccountable
was necessary to go a little into the opposite similes-borrowed, for the most part, frorm
extreme,-to venture on something decidedly low and revolting objects, and all the better
modern, and to show at once their indepen- if they did not exactly fit the subject, or even
dence on their old masters, and their supe- introduced new perplexity into that which
riority to the pedantic rules of antiquity. they professed to illustrate.
With this view some of them betook them-   This goes far, we think, to explain the abselves to the French models-set seriously to surdity, incongruity, and affectation of the
study how to be gay-appendre a etre vif-and works of which we are speaking. But there
composed a variety of petites pieces and is yet another distinguishing quality for which
novels of polite gallantry, in a style-of which we have not accounted-and that is a peculiar
we shall at present say nothing. This manner, kind of vulgarity which pervades all their vahowever, ran too much counter to the general rieties, and constitutes, perhaps, their most
character of the nation to be very much fol- repulsive characteristic. We do not kno*
lowed —and undoubtedly the greater and bet- very well how to describe this unfortunate
ter part of their writers turned rather to us, peculiarity, except by saying that it is the
for hints and lessons to guide them in their vulgarity of pacific, comfortable burghers. ocambitious career. There was a greater original cupied with stuffing, cooking, and providing
affinity in the temper and genius of the two for their coarse personal accommodations.
nations-and, in addition to that consideration, There certainly never were any men of genius
our great authors were indisputably at once who condescended to attend so minutely to
more original and less classical than those of the non-naturals of their heroes and heroines
France. England, however, we are sorry to as the novelists of modern Germany. Their
say, could furnish abundance of bad as well works smell, as it were, of groceries-of
as of good models-and even the best were brown papers filled with greasy cakes and
perilous enough for rash imitators.  As it slices of bacon,-and fryings in frowsy back
happened, however, the worst were most parlours. All the interesting recollections of
generally selected-and the worst parts of the childhood turn on remembered tidbits and
good. Shakespeare was admired-but more plunderings of savoury store-rooms. In the
for his flights of fancy, his daring improprie- midst of their most passionate scenes there is
ties. his trespasses on the borders of absurdity, always a serious and affectionate notice of the
than for the infinite sagacity and rectifying substantial pleasures of eating and drinking.
good sense by which he redeemed those ex- The raptures of a t~te-a-t~te are not complete
travagancies; or even the profound tenderness without a bottle of nice wine and a "trim
and simple pathos which alternated with the collation.';  Their very sages deliver their
lofty soaring or dazzling imagery of his style. oracles over a glass of punch; and the enAltogether, however, Shakespeare was beyond chanted lover finds new  apologies for his
their rivalry; and although Schiller has dared, idolatry in taking a survey of his mistress'
and not ingloriously, to emulate his miracles,  combs, soap,. and towels, with the traces of
i. was plainly to other merits and other rival- their use."  These baser necessities of our
ries that the body of his ingenious country- nature, in short, which all other writers who
men aspired. The ostentatious absurdity-  have aimed at raising the imagination or
the affected oddity-the pert familiarity-the touching the heart have;ept studiously out
broken style, and exaggerated sentiment of of view, are ostentatiously brought forward.
Tristram  Shandy-the  mawkish  morality, and fondly dwelt on by the pathetic authors
dawdling details, and interminable agonies of of Germany.
Ricaardson-the vulgaradventures, and home-   We really cannot well account for this ex.
ly, though, at the same time, fantastical specu- traordinary taste. But we suspect it is owing
lations of John Buncle and others of his for- to the importance that is really attached to
gotten class, found far more favour in their those solid comforts and supplies of neceseyes. They were original, startling, unclas- saries, by the greater part of the readers and
sical, and puzzling. They excited cur;osity writers of that country. Though there is a




108                         LITERAT JRE AAI D BIOGRAPHY.
great d eal of freedom in Germany, it operates to give of it by a few extracts. r Wilhelm in
less by raising the mass of'the people to a describing the dress of the prophet Samuel in
potential equality with the nobles, than by  his Punch's Opera of Goliah, and telling "how
securing to them  their inferior and plebeian  the taffeta of the cassock had been taken from
privileges; and consists rather in the immu- a gown of his grandmother's," when a noise
nities of their incorporated tradesmen, which  is heard in the street, and the old maid Barmay enable them to become rich as such, than  bara informs them that
in any general participation of national rights,   The disturbance arose from a set of jolly corn.
by which they may aspire to dignity and ele- panions, who were just then sallying out of the
gance, as wel as opulence and comfort. Now,. Italian Tavern, hard by, where they had beenr busy
the writers, as well as the readers in that discussingfresh oysters, a cargo of which had just
country, belong almost entirely to the plebeian  arrived, and by no means sparing their champagne.
and vulgar class.  Their learned men are' Pity,' Mariana said,'I that we did not think of it
almost all wofully poor and dependennt;* and  in time; we might have had some entertainment to
ralmost all woafully poor and dependent;andourselves.'' It is not yet too late,' said Wilhelm,
the comfortable burghers. who buy entertai n- giving Barbara a louis d'or:'get us what we want;
ing books by the thousand at the Frankfort then come and take a share with us.' The old
fair, probably agree with their authors in noth- dame made speedy work; ere long a trimly-covered
ing so much as the value they set on those  table, with a neat collation, stood before the lovers.
homely comforts to which their ambition is IThey made Barbara sit with them; they ate and
mutually limited by their condition;and enter drank, and enjoyed themselves. On such occa.
mutually limited by their condition; and enter sions, there is never want of enough to say. Mariinto no part of them so heartily as those which  ana soont took up little Jonathan again, and the old
set forth their paramount and continual im- dame turned the conversation upon Wilhelm's
portance.                                      favourite topic.'You were telling us,' she said,
It is time however, that we should proceed'about the first exhibition of a puppet-show on
to give some more particular account of the  Christmas-eve: I remember you were interrupted,
to gve some more particular account of the  just as the ballet was going to begin.'' I assure
work which has given occasion to all these  you,' said Wilhelm,'it went off quite well. And
observations.  Nor indeed have we anything  certainly the strange caperings of these Moors and
more of a general nature to premise, except Mooresses, these shepherds and shepherdesses,
that we really cannot join in the censure which  these dwarfs and dwarfesses, will never altogether
we have found so generally bestowed on it leave my recollection while I live," &c. &c.
for its alleged grossness and immorality.  It   We spare our readers some dozen pages of
is coarse, certainly, in its examples, and'by  doll-dressing and joinery, and come to the
no means very rigorous in its ethical precepts. following choice passage.
But it is not worse in those respects than many    "'In welladjusted and regulated houses,' conworks on which we pride ourselves at home- tinued Wilhelm,. children have a feeling not unlike
Tom Jones, for example, or Roderick Random. what I conceive rats and mice to have; they keep
There are passages, no doubt, that would  a sharp eye on all crevices and holes, where they
shock a delicate young lady; but to the bulk  may come at any forbidden dainty; they enjoy it
of male readers, for whom we suppose it was also with a fearful, stolen satisfaction, which tbrma
chiefly intended we do not apprehend that it no small part of the happiness of childhood. More.chiefly intended we do not apprehend that it than any other of the young ones, I was in the habit
will either do any great harm, or give any  of looking out attentively to see if I could notice
great offence.                                 any cupboard left open, or key standing in its lock.
Wilhelm Meister is the son of a plodding  T'he more reverence I bore in my heart for those
merchant, in one of the middling towns of closed doors, on the outside of which I had to pass
Germany, who, before he is out of his ap- by for weeks and months, catching only a furtive
takes a passion for play-i    glance when our mother now and then opened the
prenticeship, takes a passion for play-going; consecrated place to take something from it,-the
which he very naturally follows up by en- quicker was I to make use of any opportunities
gaging in an intrigue with a little pert actress, which the forgetfilness of our housekeepers at times
who performed young officers and other male afforded me. Among all the doors, that of the stor:eparts with great success.  The book opens room was, of course, the one I watched most narrowly. Few of' the joyful anticipations in life can
with a supper at her lodgings; where he tells. Few of the joyful nticipations in life can
hter a longsilly stor of his paKssio for ppe t-l equal the feeling which I used to have, when my
her a long silly story of his passion for puppet- mother happened to call me, that I might help her to
shows in his childhood-how he stole a set carry out any thing, after which I might pick up a
of puppets out of a pantry of his mother's, into  few dried plums, either with her kind permission,
which he had slipped to filch sugar-plums-  or by help of my own dexterity.  The accumulated
how he fitted up a puppet-show of his own, in  treasures of this chamber took hold of my imaginaa garret of his father's house  and enacted  tion by their magnitude; the very fragrance exhalea
by so multifarious a collection of sweet-smellin
David and Goliah, to the wonder and delight spices produced such a craving effect on me, that I
of the whole family, and various complaisant never failed, when passing near, to linger for a little,
neighbours, who condescended to enact audi- and regale myself at least on the unbolted atmos.
ence-how a half-pay lieutenant assisted him  phere. At length, one Sunday morning, my mo.
in painting the figures and nailing up the  ther, being hurried by the ringing of the church
inpaintingthefigures andnailing he bells, fbrgot to take this precious key with her on
boards-and how out of all this arose his early  shu tting  the door, and went away leaving all the
taste for playhouses and  actresses.  This house in a deep sabbath stillness. No sooner had
goodly stuff extends through  fifty mortal I marked this oversight, than gliding softly once or
pages-all serious, solemn, and silly, far be- twice to and from the place, I at last approached
yvond the pitch of the worst gilt thing ever very gingerly, opened the door, and felt myself,
pub3ished by Mr Newberry. As this is one after a single step, in immediate contact with these
>published by Mr Newberry. As this is onemanifold and long-wished-for means of happiness.
if the most characteristic parts of the work, I glancedover glasses, chests, and ags, and drawers
we must verify the account we hav;e ventured  and boxes, with a quick and doubtful eye, consider



GOETHE'S WILHELM MEISTER.                                    109
ing what I ought no., take; turned finally to my dear an elaborate character of the worthy old trades
withered plums, provided myself also with a few  and his partner.  Old Meister, it seems, had
dried apples, and completed the forage with an
orange-chip. I was quietly retreating with my     A  peculvar inclhnathoe  for magnificence, for
plunder, when some little chests, lying piled over whatever catches the eye and possesses at the same
One another, caught my attention: the more so, as I time realworth and durability. In his house, he
noticed a wire with hooks at the end of it, sticking would have all things solid and massive; his stores
through the joint of the lid in one of them. Full must be copious and rich, all his plate nust be
of eager hopes, I opened this singular package  heavy, the furniture of his table must be costly.
and judge of my emo  tions, when I found my gladc   On the other hand, his guests were seldom invited;
world of heroes all sleeping safe within! I meant for every dinner was a festival, which, both for its
to pick out the topmost, atld, havin examined them, expense and for its inconvenience, could not often
to pull up those below; but in this attempt the be repeated. Theeconomy of his ho0 e went anat
wires got very soon entangled, and I fell into a a settled uniform rate, and every thig that moved
fright and flutter, more particularly as the cook just  had  place in it was j
then began making some stir in the kitchen, which any real enjoyment.
lay close by; so that I had nothing for it but to  The elder Werner, in his dark and hampered
squeeze the whole together, the best way I could, house, led quite another sort of life. The business
and to shut the chest, having stolen from it nothing of the day, in his narrow counting-room, at his anbut a little written book, which happened to be clent desk, once done, Werner liked to eat well and
lying above, and contained the whole drama of tif possible to drink better. Nor could he fully enGoliah and David. cWi  th ts booty -I made good Joy good things in solitude; with his family he must
my retreat into the garret.' "-pp. 20-22.      always see at table his friends and any stranger
that had the slightest connection with his house.
This, we suppose, will be received as a His chairs were of unknown age and antic fashion,
sufficient specimen of the true German taste  but he daily invited some to sit on them. The dainty
for comfits, cooking, and cockering.  If any  victuals arrested the attention of his guests, and
one should wish for a sample of pure childish- none remarked that they were served up in comness or mere folly, there are pages on pages mon ware.' His cellar held no great stock of wine;
but the emptied niches were usually filled by more
like the following.                            of a superior sort."-pp. 56, 57.
"' It was natural that the operas, with their   This must be admitted not to be the very
manifold adventures and vicissitudes, should attract  s   m
me more than any thing beside. In these compo-best exemplifit   of  the     style  noble.  Nor
sitions, I found stormy seas; gods descending in is the outfit of the hero himself described in
chariots of cloud; and, what most of all delighted a vein more lofty.
me, abundance of thunder and lightning. I did my    "He must prepare," said Meistem, "and set
best with pasteboard, paint, and paper: I could forth as soon as possible. Where shall we get a
take night very prettily  my ligrhtning was fearful horse for him to suit this business?-We shall not
to behold; only my thunder did not always pros- seek far. The shopkeeper in H-, who owes us
per, which however was of less importance. In somewhat, but is withal a good man, has offered me
operas, moreover, I found frequent opportunities of a horse instead of payment. My son knows it, and
introducing my David and Goliah, persons whom  tells me it is a serviceable beast.  He may fetch it
the regular drama would hardly admit. Daily I felt himself; let him go with the diligence  the day
more attachment for the hampered spot where I after to-morrow he is back again betimes; we have
enjoyed so many pleasures; and, I must confess, his saddle-bags and letters made ready in the mean
thefragrance which the puppets had acquired from  time; h,,en set out Monday morning."
the store-room added not a little to my satisfaction.
"' The decorations of my theatre were now in a   The following passage, however, is a fairer
tolerable state of completeness. I had always had sample of the average merit of the work;
the nack of drawing with compasses, and clipping and exhibits some traits of vivacity and elopasteboard, and colouring figures; and here it serv- quence tough debased by that affectation
ed me in good stead. But the more sorry was I, onhough debased by that affectation
the other hand, when, as frequently happened, my of singularity, and that predominating and
stock of actors would not suffice for representing characteristic vulgarity, of which we have
great affairs. —My sisters dressing and undressing already said so much.  He is describing his
their dolls, awoke in me the project of furnishing hero's hours of fascination, in the playhouse,
my heroes by and by with garments, which might and elsewhere.
also be put off and on. Accordingly, I slit the
scraps of cloth from off their bodies; tacked the    "For hours he would stand by the sooty light
fragments together as well as possible; saved a par- frame, inhaling the vapour of tallow lamps, lookticle of money to buy new ribbons and lace; beg- ing out at his mistress; and when she returned and
ged many a rag of taffeta; and so formed, by de- cast a kindly glance upon him, he was himself
grees, a full theatrical wardrobe, iA which hoop- lost in ecstacy, and, though close upon laths and
petticoats for the ladies were especially remember- bare spars, he seemed transported into paradise.
ed. —My troop was now fairly provided with dresses The stuffed bunches of wool denominated lambs,
for the most important piece, and you might have the water-falls of tin, the paper roses, and the one.
expected that henceforth one exhibition would fol- sided huts of straw, awoke in him fair poetic visions
low close upon the heels of another. But it hap- of an old pastoral world. Nay, the very dancing
pened with me, as it often happens with children; girls, ugly as they were when seen at hand, did
they embrace wide plans, make mighty prepara-not always inspire him with disgust. They trod
tions, then a few trials, and the whole undertaking  the same floor with Mariana. So true is it, that
is abandoned. I was guilty of this fault,'" &c. &c. love, which alone can give their full charm to roseBut we must get on with our story. While  bowers, myrtle-groves, and moonshine, can also
But we must get on with our story.  communicate, even to shavings of wood and paper
he is lulling his little actress to sleep by these clippings, the aspect of animated nature. It is so
edifying discourses, and projecting to go on strong a spice, that tasteless, or even nauseous
the stage along with her, our mercantile hero  soups, are by it rendered palatable!
is suddenly sent off by his father, to collect   "So potent a spice was certainly required to ren
debts from their country customers.  The in- der tolerable, nay at last agreeable, the state in
which he usually found her chamber, not to say
genious author, however cannot possibly let herself.-Brought up in a substantial burgher's
him go, without presenting his readers with  house, cleanliness and order were the element in




110                        LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
which he breathed; and inheriting as he did a por- be said to escape till the end of the work.
tion of his father's taste for finery, it had always Nothing, indeed, (an be more ludicrously unbeen his care, in boyhood, to furnish up his cham- natural than the luck he has in meeting witsA
ber, which he regarded as his little kingdom, in the
stateliest fashion. He had got himself a carpet for nothing but players, and persons connected
the middle of his chamber, and a finer one for his with playhouses.  On his very first sally, he
table. He had also a white cap, which he wore falls in with a player who had run away with
straight up like a turban! and the sleeves of his a young lady, whom he had captivated from
night-gown he had caused to be cut short, in the the stage-and has scarcely had time to admode of the Orientals. As a reason for this,he  mire the mountain scenery among  which he
pretended, that long wide sleeves encumbered him
in writing,                                    has to pass his first evening, when he is sur"In thos times, how happy did he think the prised to learn that the work-people in the
players, whom he saw possessed of so many splen- adjacent village are about to act a play  -the
did garments, trappings, and arms; and in the con- whole process of which is described with as
stant practice of a lofty demeanour, the spirit of solemn a tediousness as his own original pupwhich seemed to hold up a mirror of whatever, in pet-show.  In the first town to which  he
the opinions, relations, and passions of men, was descends he meets first wit    h a seducing com
stateliest and most magnificent.  Of a piece with escends, he neetsfirst with a seducingcomthis, thought Wilhelm, is also the player's domes- pany of tumblers and rope-dancers, reinforced
tic life; a series of dignified transactions and em- by the valuable addition of a Strong Man;
ployments, whereof their appearance on the stage and in half an hour after makes acquaintance
is but the outmost portion! Like as a mass of silver, long simmering about in the purifying furnace, sends across the street to beg  a nosegay sh
at length gleams with a bright and beautiful tinge sends across the street to beg a nosegay sh
in the eye ofthe refiner, and shows him, at the same sees in his hands-and turns out, by the hap.
time, that the metal now is cleansed of all foreign piest accident in the world, to be a strolling
mixture.                                       actress, waiting there for the chance of em" Great, accordingly, was his surprise at first, ployment.  To give our readers an idea of
when he found himself beside his mistress, and the sort of descriptions with which the great
looked down, through the cloud that environed
him, on tables, stools, and floor. The wrecks of a writers in Germany now electrify their readtransient, light, and'false decoration lay, like the ers, we copy the following simple and impresglittering coat of a skinned fish, dispersed in wild sive account of the procession of the tumbling
disorder. The implements of personal cleanliness, party.
combs, soap, towels, with the traces of their use!r advanced on
were not cohicealed. Music, portions of plays and    " Preceded by a drum, the manager advanced on
pairs of shoes, washes and Italian flowers, pin- horseback  he was followed by a female dancer
cushions, hair-skewers, rouge-pots and ribbons, mounted on a corresponding hack, and holding a
books, and straw-hats; no article despised t   child before her, all bedizened with ribbons and
~              h spangles. Next came the remainder of the troop
neighbourhood of another; all were united by a spangles. Next  came the remainder ofro theroop
common element, powder and dust. Yet as Wil- on foot some of them carrying children on their
helm scarcely noticed in her presence aught except shoulders it dangerous postures, yet smoothly and
herself'; nay, as all that had belonged to her, that lightly  among these the young, dark, black-haired
she had touched, was dear to him, he came at last figure again attracted Wilhelm's notice.-Pickleherring ran gaily up and down the crowded multito feel, in this chaotic housekeeping, a charm which herngra  gaily up and down the crwded mh practical
the proud pomp of his own habitation never had tde, strbuing h  hand-bills with much practical
communicated. When, on this hand, he lifted fun; here smacing the lips of a girl there breechaside her boddice, to get at the harpsicord; on that, ing a boy, and awakening generally among the
threw her gown upon the bed, that he might find a people an invincible desire to know more of him.seat: when she herself, with careless freedom, did On the painted flags, the manifold science of the
not seek to hide from him many a natural ofice  company was visibly delineated."
which, out of respectfor the presence of a second per-   The new actress, to whom he is introduced
son, is usually concealed; he felt as if by all this by another of the fraternity whom he finds at
he was coming nearer to her every moment, as if his inn is named Philina  and her character
visible tes i  betwixt them was fastening by in- is sketched and sustained throughout the book
raptures, and!"with far more talent than could be expected
In the midst of all these raptures; and just from any thing we have hitherto cited.  She
after he had been gallantly serenading her is gay, forward, graceful, false, and good-nawith the trumpets of a travelling showman, tured; with a daring and capricious pleasantry,
he detects his frail fair one in an intrigue with  which, if it often strikes as unnatural, is fre.
a rival; and falls into the most horrible ago- quently original and efective.  Her debut
nies, the nature and violence of which the in- however, we must say, is in the author's most
genious author illustrates by the following characteristic manner.
very obvious and dignified simile.
" She came out from her room in a pair of tight
"As when by chance, in the preparation of some little slippers with high heels, to give them welcome.
artificial fire-works, any part of the composition She had thrown a black mantle over her, above a
kindles before its time, and the skilfully bored and white negligee, not indeed superstitiously clean,
loaded barrels,-which, arranged, and burning but which, fobr that very reason, gave her a more
after a settled plan, would have painted in the air a frank and domestic air! Her short dress did. not
magnificently varying series of flaming images,-  hide a pair of the prettiest feet and ancles in the
now hissing and roaring, promiscuously explode world.-' You are welcome,' she cried to Wilhelm,
with a confused and dangerous crash; so, in our' and I thank you for your charming flowers.' She
hero's case, did happiness and hope, pleasure and  led him into her chamber with the one hand, pressjoys, realities and dreams, clash together with de- ing the nosegay to her breast with the other. Bestructive tumult, all at once in his bosom."   ing all seated, and got into a pleasant train of general
He sets off, however, on his journey, and  talk, to which she had the art of giving a delightful
turn, Laertes threw a handful of gingerbread nuts
speedily gets into those more extensive theat- into her lap, and she immediately began to eat
rical connections, from which he can scarcely  them.-' Look what a child this young gallant is!'




GOETHE'S WILHELM MEISTER.                                     11i
she said;'He wants to persuade you that I am  fled this German company ta be poetically enter.
fond of such confectionary; and it is himself that tained, according to their own character, on stuff
cannot live without licking his lips over something of their own manufacture! In particular, the vaults
of the kind.'-' Let us confess,' replied Laertes, and caverns, the ruined castles, the moss and hol.' that, In this point, as in others, you and I go hand low trees; but above all the nocturnal Gipseyin nand. For example,' he continued,' the weather scenes, and the Secret Tribunal, produced a quite
is delightful to-day: what if we should take a drive incredible effect.
into the country, and eat our dinner at the Mill?'"    " Towards the fifth act the approbation became
-Vol. i. pp. 143, 144.                         more impetuous and louder; and at last, when the
Even at the mill they are fortunate enough  hero actually trampled down his oppressor, and
the tyrant met his doom, the ecstasy increased to
to meet with a dramatic representation —some  such a height, that all averred they had never
miners in the neighbourhood having, by great passed such happy moments. Melina, whom the
good luck, taken it into their heads to set forth  liquor had inspired, was the noisiest; and when the
the utility of their craft in a sort of recitative  second bowl was empty, and midnight near, Laertes
dispute with some unbelieving countrymen, swore through thick and thin, that no living mortal
and to sing throug~h a part of Werner's L~et    was worthy ever more to put these glasses to 1is
and to sing through a part of Werners  Lec- lips; and, so swearing, he pitched his own right
tures on Mineralogy-upon  which very natural over his head, through a window-pane, out into the
and probable occurrence our apprentice com- street. The rest followed his example; and notments, in this incredible manner.              withstanding the protestations of the landlord, who
"'In this little dialogue,' said Wilhelm, when  came running in at the noise, the punch-bowl itself,
seated at table,'we have a lively proof how usefu   ever after this festivity to be polluted by unholy
the theatre might be to all ranks; what advantage  drink, was dashed into a thousand shreds. Philina,
even the State might procure from it, if the occupa- whose exhilaration was the least noticed, the other
tions, trades, and undertakings of men were all two girls by that time having laid themselves upon
brought upon the stage! and presented on their
brought upon the stage! and presented on their the sofa in no very elegant positions, maliciously
praiseworthy sid, in that point of view in which  encouraged her companions in their tumult.
the State itself should honour and protect them!   " Meanwhile the town-guard had arrived, and
As matters stand, we exhibit only the ridiculous were demanding admission to the house. Wilhelm,
side of men.-Might it not be a worthy and pleasing  much heated by his reading, though he had drank
task for a        statesman to survey the natural and re- but little, had enough to do with the landlord's help
ciprocal influence of all classes on each other, and to cottent these people by money and good words,
to guide some poet, gifted with sufficient humour,and afterwards to get the varous members of his
party sent home in that unseemly case."
in such labours as these? In this way, I am persuaded, many very entertaining, both agreeable    Most of our readers probably think they
and usefiul pieces, might be executed.' "      have had enough of this goodly matter.  But
Such is the true sublime of German specu- we cannot spare them a taste of the manner of
lation! and it is by writing such sheer non- courtship and flirtation that prevailed among
sense as this that men in that country acquire  these merry people. Philina one day made a
the reputation of great genius-and of uniting  garland of flowers for her own hair-and then
with pleasant inventions the most profound  andther, which she placed on the brows of
suggestions of political wisdom! Can we be our hero.
wrong in maintaining, after this, that there   "'And I, it appears, must go empty!' said
are diversities of national taste that can never Laertes.-' Not by any means; you shall not have
be reconciled, and scarcely ever accounted  reason to complain,' replied Philina, taking off the
for?                                          garland from her own head, and putting it on his.On another day they go in a boat and agree'If we were rivals,' said Laertes,'we might now
On another day they go in a boat, and ag~ree,  dispute very warmly which of us stood higher in
by way of pastime, to " extemporise a Play,"  thy favour.'-' And the more fools you,' said she,
by each taking an ideal character, and at- whilst she bent herself towards him, and offered
tempting to sustain it-and this, "because it him her lips to kiss: and then immediately turned
forces each to strain his fancy and his wit to round, threw  her arm  about Wilhelm, and bethe uttermost," is pronounced to be a most stowed a kind salute on him  also.' Which of
comfortable occupation and is thus mo- them tastes best?' said she archly.-' Surprisingly!'
C7omfortable occupaionexclaimed Laertes:'it seems as if nothing else
ralized upon by a reverend clergyman who  had ever such a tang of wormwood in it.'-' As
had joined their party, and enacted a country  little wormwood,' she replied,'as any gift that a
parson with great success.                     man may enjoy without envy and without conceit.
But now,' cried she,' I should like to have an
"'I think this practice very useful among actors, But nov,' cried she,'I should like to have an
I think this practice very useful among actors, hour's dancing, and after that we must look to our
and even in the company of friends and acquaint- hour's dancing, and after that we must look to our
ances. It is the best mode of' drawing men out of
themselves, and leading them, by a circuitous path,   Another evening, as Wilhelm  was sitting
back into themselves again.'"                  pensively on the bench at the inn door,
Their evening occupation is not less intel-   "Philina came singing and  skipping along
lectual and dramatic; though it ends  we through the front door. She sat down by him; nay,
must own, with rather too much animation. we might almost say, on him, so  close did she
They all meet to read a new play; and          press herself towards him; she leant upon his
nThey all meetshoulders, began playing with his hair, patted him,
-"between the third and fourth act, the punch and gave him the best words in the world. She
arrived, in an ample bowl; and there being much begged of him to stay with them, and not leave her
fighting and drinking in the piece itself, nothing alone in that company, or she must die of ennui:
was more natural than that, on every such occur- she could not live any longer in the same house
rence, the company should transport themselves with Melina, and had come over to lodge in the
into the situation of the heroes, should flourish and other inn for that very reason.-He tried in vain to
strike along with them, and drink long life to their satisfy her with denials; to make her understand
favourites among the dramatis persone,.        that he neither could nor would remain any longer.
"Each individual of the party was inflamed with She did not cease her entreaties; nay, suddenly
the most noble fire of national spirit. How it grati- she threw per arm about his neck, and kissed him




112                        LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
with the liveliest expression of fondness.-' Are   The rent crag rushes down, and above it the flood.
you mad, Philina?' cried Wilhelm, endeavouring   Know'st thou it?
to disengage himself;' to make the open street the              Thither! O thither,
scene of such caresses, which I nowise merit! Let   Our way leadeth: Father! O come let us go!"
me go; I cannot and I will not stay.'-' And I will                          Vol. i. p. 229.
hold thee fast,' said she,' and kiss thee here on    The mystery that hangs over the original
the open street, and kiss thee till thou promise
what I want. I shall die of laughing,' she con- condition of Fenella in Rushin Castle, is distinued:' By this familiarity the good people here carded, indeed, as to Mignon, from the first;
must take me for thy wife of four weeks' standing; for she is first exhibited to us as actually tumand husbands that witness this touching scene will bling! —and is rescued by our hero fromt the
commend me to their wives as a pattern of childlike simple tentderness.'-Some persons were just scourge of the master tumbler, who was disthen going by; she caressed him  in the most satisfied with her performance. But the fonds
graceful way; and he, to avoid giving scandal, was of the character is the same. She is beautiful
constrained to play the part of the patient husband. and dwarfish, unaccountable, and full of senThen she made faces at the people, when their sibility, and is secretly in love with her probacks were turned; and, in the wildest humour, tector who feels for her nothing but common
continued to comlmit all sorts of improprieties, till kindness and compassion. She comes at last
at last he was obliged to promise that he would not
go that day, or the morrow, or the next day.- to be sure, to be rather more mad than Fenel-'You are a true clod!' said she, quitting him; la, and dies the victim of her hopeless passion.' and I am but a fool to spend so much kindness The following is the description, something
on you.' "-Vol. i. pp. 208, 209.               overworked perhaps, and not quite intelligible,
But we are tired of extracting so much  but, on the whole, most powerful and imprestrash, and must look out for something better. sive, of this fairy creature's first indication
Would any one believe, that the same work  of her love to her youthful deliverer.
which contains all these platitudes of vulgarity    " Nothing is more touching than the first discloshould have furnished our great novelist with  sure of a love which has been nursed in silence, of
one of his most fantastical characters, and  a faith grown strong in secret, and which at last
Lord Byron with one of the most beautiful comes forth in the hour of need, and reveals itself
to him who formerly has reckoned it of small acpassages in his poetry! Yet so it is.  The  count. The bud, which had been closed so long
character of Fenella, in Peveril of the Peak, and firmly, was now ripe, to burst its swathings,
is borrowed almost entire from  the Mignon  and Wilhelm's heart could never have been readier
of the work before us-and the prelude to  to welcome the impressions of affection.
the Bride of Abydos, beginning, "O know    "She stood before him, and noticed his disquietyou the land where te cypress and myrtle     ude.'Master!' she cried,'if thou art unhappy,
ou the land where the cypress and myrtle a  1    what will become of Mignon?'' Dear little creais taken, with no improvement, from  a little  ture,' said he, taking her hands,'thou too art part
wild air which she sings.  It is introduced  of my anxieties. I must go.' She looked at his
here, too, with more propriety, and effect eyes, glistening with restrained tears, and knelt
than in the work of the noble author; for she down with vehemence before him. He kept her
is represented as having been stolen from  hands; she laid her head upon his knees, and retmained quite still. He played with her hair, patted
Italy; andthe song, in this its original form, her, and spoke kindly to her. She continued me.
shadows out her desire to be restored to that tionless for a considerable time. At last he felt a sort
delightful land and the stately halls of her of palpitating movement in her, which began very
ancestors,-retracing her way by the wild  softly, and then by degrees with increasing violence
passes of the Alps.  It is but fair to the poet- diffused itself over all her frame.' What ails thee,
cal powers of Goethe to give this beautiful Mignon?' cried he;'what ails thee?' She raised
up her little head, looked at him, and all at once
song, as it is here, apparently, very ably trans- laid her hand upon her heart, with the countenance
lated.                                         of one repressing the utterance of pain. He raised
her up, and she fell upon his breast; he pressed
"Know'st thou the land where the lemon-trees her towards him, and kissed her. She replied not
bloom?                                  by any pressure of the hand, by any motion whatWhere the gold orange glows in the deep thick- ever. She held firmly against her heart; and all at
et's gloom.                             once gave a cry, which was accompanied by spasWhere a wind ever soft from the blue heaven modic movements of the body.  She started up,
blows,                                   and immediately fell down before him, as if broken
And the groves are of laurel and myrtle and rose? in every joint. It was an excruciating moment!
Know'st thou it?'My child!' cried he, raising her up, and clasping
Thither! 0 thither,          her fast;'My child, what ails thee?' The palpita.
My dearest and kindest, with thee would I go.  tions continued, spreading from the heart over all
Know'st thou the house, with its turreted walls,  the lax and powerless limbs; she was merely
Where the chambers are glancing, and vast are hanging in his arms! All at once she again became
the halls?                              quite stiff, like one enduring the sharpest corporeal
Where the figures of marble look on me so mild, agony; and soon with a new vehemence all her
As if thinking:'Why thigus did they use thee, frame once more became alive; and she threw herpoor child?'                            self about his neck, like a bent spring that is closing;
Know'st thou it?                            while in her soul, as it were a strong rent took
Thither! 0 thither,          place, and at the same moment a stream of tears
Iy guide and my guardian, with thee would I go. flowed from her shut eyes into his bosom. He held
her fast. She wept! and no tongue can express
Know'st thou the mountain, its cloud-cover'd the force of these tears. Her long hair had loosened,
arch,                                    and was hanging down before her; it seemed as if
Where the mules among mist o'er the wild tor- her whole being was melting incessantly into a
rent march?                             brook of tears! Her rigid limbs were again become
[n the clefts of it, dragons lie coil'd with their relaxed; her inmost soul was pouring itself forth!
brood:                                   In the wild confusion of the moment, Wilhelm was




GOETHE'S WILIJELM  MEISTER.                                   113
afraid she would dissolve in his arms, and leave on stepping into his dressing-room, is so much
nothing thrre for him to grasp. He held her faster terrified at seeing himself sitting quietly in an
and faster.'My child!' cried he,'my child' arm-chair by the fire that he runs out in a
Her tears continued flowing. At last she raised her-   
self; a faint gladness shone upon her face.' My  great fright, an  soon after becomes a visionfather!' cried she,'thou wilt hot forsake me? Wilt ary, and joins the insane flock of Swedenborg.
bhe my father? I am thy child.'"               A critical scene, however, is at last brought
We cannot better illustrate the strange in- on accidentally-and though the transaction
consistency of our author's manner, than by  ecorded is by no means quite correct, we
subjoining to this highly passionate and really  cannot help inserting the account of it, as a
seautiful scene, his account of the egg dance, very favourable specimen of the author's most
which this little creature performs a few days animated and most natural style.  Wilhelm
after, for her friend's entertainment.         had been engaged in reading, as usual, to the
Countess and her female party, when they
"   e came into his room one evening carrying a are interrupted by the approach of visitors.
little carpet below her arm, which she spread out The Baroness goes out to receive them;
upon the floor. She then brought four candles, and
placed one upon each corner of the carpet. A little    " And the Countess, while about to shut her
basket of eggs, which she next carried in, made her writing-desk, which was standing open, took up
purpose clearer. Carefully measuring her steps, her casket, and put some other rings upon her finshe then walked to and fio on the carpet, spreading  ger.' We are soon to part,' said she, keeping her
out the eggs in certain figures and positions; which  eyes upon the casket:' accept a memorial of a true
done, she called in a man that was waiting in the  fiiend, who wishes nothing more earnestly. than
house, and could play on the violin. He retired  that you may always prosper.' She then took out
with his instrument into a corner; she tied a band  a ring, which, underneath a crystal, bore a little
about her eyes, gave a signal, and, like a piece of plate of woven hair, beautifully set with diamonds.
wheel-work set a-going, she began moving the  She held it out to Wilhelm, who, on taking it,
same instant as the music, accompanying her beats knew neither what to say nor do, but stood as if
and the notes of the tune with the strokes of a pair rooted to the ground. The Countess shut her desk,
nf castanets.                                  and sat down upon the sofa.'And I must go
" Lightly, nimbly, quickly, and with hairsbreadth  empty?' said Philina, kneeling down at the Countaccuracy, she carried on the dance. She skipped  ess' right hand.'Do but look at the man! he
so sharply and surely along between the eggs, and carries such a store of words in his mouth, when
trode so closely down beside them, that you would  no one wants to hear them; and now he cannot
have thought every instant she must trample one stammer outithe poorest syllable of thanks. Quick,
of them in pieces, or kick the rest away in her rapid sir! EJxpress your services, by way of pantomime
turns. By no means! She touched no one of them, at least; and if to-day you can invent nothing; then,
though winding herself through their mazes with  for Heaven's sake, be my imitator!' Philina seized
all kinds of steps, wide and narrow, nay even with  the right hand of the Countess, and kissed it warm.
leaps, and at last half kneeling.-Constant as the ly. Wilhelm sank upon his knee, laid hold of the
movement of a clock, she ran her course; and the left, and pressed itto his lips. The Countess seemstrange music, at each repetition of the tune gave a ed embarrassed, yet without displeasure.'Ah!'
new impulse to the dance, recommencing and again  cried Philina;' so much splendour of attire I may
rushing off as at first.                       have seen before; but never one so fit to wear it.
"The dance being ended, she rolled the eggs What bracelets, but also what a hand! -What a
together sofily with her foot into a little heap, left neck-dress, but also what a bosom!''Peace, little
none behind, harmed none; then placed herself cozener!' said the Countess.' Is this his Lordship
beside it, taking the bandage from her eyes, and then?' said Philina, pointing to a rich medallion,
concluding her performance with a little bow."  which the Countess wore on her left side, by a
Soon after this, the whole player party are  particular chain.' He is painted in his bridal dress,'
taken to the castle of a wealthy Count, to as- replied the Countess.'Was he then so young?'
sist him in entertaining a great Prince and his inquired Philina; I know it is but a year or two
since you were married.''His youth must be,
numerous attendants, from whom he was ex- placed to the artist's account,' replied the lady.
pecting a visit.  Our hero is prevailed on to' He is a handsome man,' observed Philina.'But
go also, and takes Mignon along with him-   was'there never,' she continued, placing her hand
and though treated with some indignity, and  upon the Countess' heart,' never any other image
very ill lodged and attended, condescends to that found its way in secret hither''Thou art
compose a complimentary piece in honour of very bold, Philme naever heard such anothaver speech.
the illustrious stranger, and to superintend, as' If you are angry, then am I unhappy,' said Phi
well as to take a part in, all the private theat- lina, springing up, and hastening from the room.
ricals.  By degrees, however, he steals into    "Wilhelm still held that lovely hand in both.
the favour of the more distinguished guests-  his. His eyes were fixed upon the bracelet-clasp
is employed to read to the Countess, and at he noticed, with extreme surprise, that his initia.,
is employed to read. to the Countess* and a  t were traced on it, in lines of brilliants.'Have i
last is completely fascinated with her elegance  then,' he modestly inquired,'you own hair in th,,
and beauty-while, as it turns out, he has un- precious ring?'' Yes,' replied she in a faint voice,
consciously made some impression on her in- then suddenly collecting herself, she said, and
nocent heart. He is not a little assisted in his pressed his hand:'Arise, and fare you well!'
designs, whatever they may have been'Here is my name,' cried he,'by the most curious
certain i                    whatever they may have beensses himby a chance i!' He pointed to the bracelet-clasp.' How?'
certain intriguing Baroness, who dresse's him  cried the Countess;'it is the cipher of a female
out, on one occasion, in the Count's clothes, friend!'' They are the initials of my name. Forwhen that worthy person was from home, in- get me not. Your image is engraven on my heart,
tending to send the Countess in upon him, by  and will never be effaced. Farewell! I must be
telling her that her lord was suddenly return- gone.' He kissed her hand, and meant to rise; but,
ed.  But this scheme is br~oken up by the as in dreams, some strange thing fades and changes
unexpected verificatio  of her fable  for the into omethiig stranter, and the succeeding wonder
unexpected verification of her able; for the takes us by surprise; so, without knowing how it
Count actually returns at the moment; and, happened, he found the Countess in his arms! Hot




114                        LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
lips were resting upon his, and their warm mutual   "'The  second stroke that came upon b!r
kisses were yielding thein that blessedness, which  wounded deeper, bowed still more. I. was the
mortals sip from the topmost sparkling foam on the marriage of his mother. The faithful tender son
freshly poured cup of love!                   had yet a mother, when his father passed away.
"Her head lay upon his shoulder; the disordered  He hoped, in the company of his surviving and
ringlets and ruffles were forgotten.  She had  noble-minded parent,-to reverence the heroic form
thrown her arm around him; he clasped her with  of the departed; but his mother too he loses! and
vivacity; and pressed her again and again to his it is something worse than death that robs him cf
breast. O that such a moment could but last for- her. The trustful image, which a good child loves
ever! And wo to envious fate that shortened even  to fortn of his parents, is gone.  With the dead
this brief' moment to our friends! How terrified  there is no help-on the living no hold! She also
was Wilhelm, how astounded did he start from this is a woman, and her name is Frailty, like that of all
happy dream, when the Countess, with a shriek, her sex.
on a sudden tore herself away, and hastily pressed    "'Figure to yourselves this youth,' cried he,
her hand against her heart. He stood confounded'this son of princes; conceive him vividly, bring
before her; she held the other hand upon her eyes, his state before your eyes, and then observe him
and, after a moment's pause, exclaimed:'Away! when he learns that his father's spirit walks!
leave me! delay not!' He continued standing. Stand by him in the terrors of the night, when the'Leave me!' she cried; and taking off her hand venerabe ghost itself appears before him.  A horfrom her eyes, she looked at him with an indescrib- rid shudder passes over him; he speaks to the mysable expression of countenance; and added, in the terious form; he sees it beckon him; he follows it,
most tender and affecting voice:'Fly, if you love and hears. The fearful accusation of his uncle
me.' Wilhelm was out of the chamber, and again  rings in his ears; the sunimons to revenge, and the
in his room, before he knew what he was doing. piercing oft-repeated prayer, Remember me!
Unhappy creatures! What singular warning of   "' And when the ghost has vanished, who is it
chance or of destiny tore them asunder?'"     that stands before us? A young hero panting for
vengeance'? A prince by birth, rejoicing to be
These questionable doings are followed up  called to punish the usurper of his crown? No!
by long speculations on the art of playing, and  Trouble and astonishment take hold of the solitary
the proper studies and exercises of actors. young man: he grows bitter against smiling vilBut in the end of these, which are mystical lains, swears that he will not forget the spirit, and
and prosing enough, we come suddenly upon  concludes with the expressive ejaculation:
what we do not hesitate to pronounce the             The time is out ofjoint: 0 cursed spite,
most able, eloquent, and profound exposition         That ever I was born to set them right 
most   aracter of a rlet, d  as conceived tibyon    "' In these words, I imagine, will be found the
of the character of Hamlet, as conceived by  key to Hamlet's whole procedure. To me it is
our great dramatist, that has ever been given  clear tHamlet's whole pre              me it case,
to the world.  In justice to the author, we  to represent the effects of a great action laid upon a
shall give a part of this admirable critique. soul unfit for the performance of it. In this view
He first delineates him as he was before the  the whole piece seems to me to be composed. An
calamities of his family.                      oak-tree is planted in a costly jar, which should
have borne only-pleasant flowers in its bosom; the
"'Soft, and from a noble stem, this royal flower roots expand, the jar is shivered! A lovely, pure,
had sprung up under the immediate influences of noble, and most moral nature, without the strength
majesty: the idea of moral rectitude with that of of nerve which forms a hero, sinks beneath a burprincely elevation, the feeling of the good and dig- den which it cannot bear, and must not cast away.
nified with the consciousness of high birth, had In All duties are holy for him; the present is too hard.
him  been unfolded simultaneously. He was a Impossibilities have been required of him; not in
prince, by birth a prince; and he wished to reign, themselves impossibilities, but such for him. He
only that good men might be good without obstruc- winds, and turns, and torments himself; he advances
tion. Pleasing in form, polished by nature, cour- and recoils; is ever put in mind, ever puts himself
teous from the heart, he was meant to be the pat- in mind; at last does all but lose his purpose from
tern of youth and the joy of the world.        his thoughts; yet still without recovering his peace
"' Without any prominent passion, his love for of mind.'"
Ophelia was a still presentiment of sweet wants.
His zeal in knightly accomplishments was not en- our own commentators-nothingo good as this  any of
tirely his own; it needed to be quickened and in- our own commentators-nothing at once so
flamed by praise bestowed on others for excelling poetical, so feeling, and so just.  It is inconin them. He was calm in his temper, artless in his ceivable that it should have been written by
conduct, neither pleased with idleness, nor too vio- the chronicler of puppet-shows and gluttonous
lently eager for employment. The routine of a vulgarities.
university he seemed to continue when at court.
tle possessed more mirth of humour than of heart:    The players, with our hero at their head,
he was a good companion, pliant, courteous, dis- now  travel across the country, rehearsing,
creet, and able to forget and forgive an injury; yet lecturing, squabbling, and kissing as usual.
never able to unite himself with those who over- There is war however on their track; and
stept the limits of the right, the good, and the when seated pleasantly at dinner in a wood
becoming.' "                                   on their journey, they are attacked by some
He then considers the effects of the mis- armed marauders, robbed of their goods, and
fortunes of his house on such a disposition. poor Wilhelm left wounded and senseless on
The first is the death of his father, by which  the field.  What follows, though not very
his fair hopes of succession are disappointed. original in conception, is described with effect
"He is now poor in goods and favour, and a and vivacity.
stranger in the scene which from youth he had    "On again opening his eyes, he found himself in
looked upon as his inheritance. His temper here  the strangest posture. The first thing that pierced
assumes its first mournful tinge. He feels that now  the dimness which yet swam before his vision, was
he is not more, that he is less, than a private no- Philina's face bent down over his. He felt himself
bleman; he offers himself as the servant of every  weak; and making a movement to rise, he disone; he is not courteous and condescending, I is covered that he was in Philina's lap; into which,
needy and degraded.                            indeed, he again sank down. She was sitting on




GOETHE'S WILHELM MEISTER.                                    115
the sward. She had softly pressed towards her the great spirit and animation.  We may extract
head of the fallen young man; and made for him  the end of the latter.
an easy couch, as far as this was in her power.
Mignon was kneeling with dishevelled and bloody    "Amid the pleasures of the entertainment, it
hair at his feet, which she embraced with many  had not been noticed that the children and the Harper
tears. Philina let him know that this true-hearted  were away. Ere long they made their entrance,
creature, seeing her friend wounded, and in the and were blithely welcomed by the company.
hurry of the instant, being able to think of nothing  They came in together, very strangely decked:
which would staunch the blood, had taken her own  Felix was beating a triangle, Mignon a tambouhair that was flowing round her head, and tried to rine; the old man had his large harp hung round
stop the wounds with it; but had soon been obliged  his neck, and was playing on it whilst he carried it
to give up the vain attempt; that afterwards they  before him. They marched round and round the
had bound with moss and dry mushrooms, Philina table, and sang a multitude of songs. Eatables
herself givingup herneck-kerchief for that purpose. were handed to them; and the guests believed
"After a few moments, a young lady issued from  they could not do a greater kindness to the children,
the thickets, riding on a gray courser, and accom- than by giving them as much sweet wine as they
panied by an elderly gentleman and some cavaliers. chose to drink. For the company themselves had
Grooms, servants, and a troop of hussars, closed up not by any means neglected a stock of wavoury
the rear. Philina stared at this phenomenon, and flasks, presented by the two amateurs, which had
was about to call, and entreat the Amazon for help; arrived this evening in baskets.  The children
when the latter, turning her astonished eyes on the tripped about and sang; Mignon in particular was
group, instantly checked her horse, rode up to frolicsome beyond what any one had ever seen her.
them, and halted. She inquired eagerly about the She beat the tambourine with the greatest liveliwounded man, whose posture in the lap of this light- ness and grace: now, with her finger pressed
minded Samaritan seemed to strike her as pecu iar- against the parchment, she hummed across it quickly strange.' Is it your husband 7' she inquired of ly to and fro; now rattled on it with her knuckles,
Philina.' Only a friend,' replied the other, with a now with the back of her hand; nay sometimes,
tone that Wilhelm  liked extremely ill. He had with alternating rhythm, she struck it first against
fixed his eyes upon the soft, elevated, calm, sympa- her knee and then against her head; and anon
thizing features of the stranger: he thought he had twirling it in her hand, she mnade the shells jingle
never seen aught nobler or more lovely. Her shape by themselves; and thus, from the simplest instruhe could not see: it was hid by a man's great-coat, ment, elicited a great variety of tones. The comwhich she seemed to have borrowed from some of pany, as much as they had laughed at her at first,
her attendants, to screen her from the chill evening  were in fine obliged to curb her. But persuasion
air."-Vol. ii. pp. 38-43.                      was of small avail; for she now sprang up, and
raved, and shook her tambourine, and capered
A surgeon in this compassionate party ex- round the table. With her hair flying out behind
amines his wounds, and the lovely young  her, with her head thrown back, and her limbs a~
woaman, after some time                        it were cast into the air, she seemed like one of
those antique Maenades, whose wild and all but
-" turned to the old gentleman, and said,'Dear impossible positions still strike us with astonishuncle, may I be generous at your expense?' She ment when seen on classic monuments, &c.
took off the great-coat, with the visible intention to    " It was late; and Aurelia, perhaps the. only one
give it to the stript and wounded youth.       retaining self-possession in the party, now stood up,
" Wilhelm, whom the healing look of her eyes and signified that it was time to go. By way of
had hitherto held fixed, was now, as the surtout fell termination, Serlo gave a firework, or what resemaway, astonished at her lovely figure. She came bled one: for he could imitate the sound of crack-near, and softly laid the coat above him. At this ers, rockets, and fire-wheels with his mouth, in a
moment, as he tried to open his mouth, and stam- style of nearly inconceivable correctness.  You
mer out some words of gratitude, the lively impres- had only to shut your eyes, and the deception was
sion of her presence worked so strongly on his complete. On reaching the open air, almost all
senses, already caught and bewildered, that all at of them observed that they had drank too liberally.
once it appeared to him as if her head were encir- They glided asunder witout taking leave.
cled with rays; and a glancing light seemed by de-   "The instant Wilhelhn gained his room, he
grees to spread itself over all her form! At this stripped, and, extinguishing his candle, hastened
moment the surgeon, endeavouring to extract the into bed. Sleep was overpowering him without
ball from his wound, gave him a sharper twinge; delay, when a noise, that seemed to issue from bethe angel faded away from the eyes of the fainting hind the stove, aroused him. In the eye of his
patient: he lost all consciousness; and, on returning  heated fancy, the image of the harnessed king was
to himself, the horsemen and coaches, the fair one hovering near him: he sat up that he might address
with her attendants, had vanished like a dream.    the spectre; but he felt himself encircled with soft
" ie, meanwhile, wrapt up in his warm surtout, arms, and his mouth was shut with kisses, which
was lying peacefully upon the litter. An electric he had not force to push away!"-Vol. ii. pp. 205warmth seemed to flow from the fine wool into his 209.
body: in short, he felt himself in the most delight-   In this division of the story we hear a great
ful frame of mind. The lovely being, whom this deal of an Aurelia-a sister of themanager'sgarment lately covered, had affected him to the an actress of course-but a woman of talent
very heart. He still saw the coat falling down and sentiment-who  had been perfidiously
from her shoulders: saw that noble form, begirt and sentiment-who had been perfidiously
with radiance, stand beside him; and his soul hied left by her lover-and confided all the bitter
over rocks and forests on the footsteps of his de- ness of her heart to our herb.  There is a
parted benefactress.-Vol. ii. pp. 45-47.       good deal of eloquence in some of these diaThe party afterwards settles in a large logues-and a nearer approach to nature, than
town, under the charge of a regular manager. in any other part of the m      ork.  This s a
There are endless sqabbles and intrigues, and
interminable dissertations on acting. Our hero    "'One more forsaken woman in the world!'
performs Hamlet with great applause, and  you willsay. You are a man. You are thinking:
gets tipsy with the whole company at a riotous' What a noise she makes, the fool, about a necesgets tiupper after ith the w hole cmpany at a riotousary evil, which certainly as death awaits women
supper after it-the rehearsals, the acting, when such is the fidelity of men!' Oh, my friend!
and the said supper being all described with  if my fate were common, I would gladly u, dr'go




116                         LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
a common evil. But it is so singular: why cannot swell by reason of them!  And yet,' continued
I present it to you in a mirror, why not command she,' among thousands one woman saved! that still
some one to tell it you? Oh, had I, had I been is something: among thousands one honest man
seduced, surprised, and afterwards forsaken! there discovered; this is not to be refused. Do youl
would then be comfort in despair: but I am far know then what you promise?''I know it,' an
more miserable; I have been my own deceiver; I swered Wilhelm with a smile, and holding out his
have wittingly betrayed myself; and this, this is hand.'I accept it then,' said she, and made a
what shall never be forgiven me.'               movement with her right hand, as if meaning to
"' I hate the French language,' she added, take hold of his: but instantly she darted it into'from the bottom of my soul. During the period her pocket, pulled out her dagger as quick as light
of our kindliest connection, he wrote in German, ning, and scored with the edge and point of it
and what genuine, powerful, cordial German! It across his hand! He hastily drew back his arm
was not till he wanted to get quit of me, that he but the blood was already running down.
began seriously.to write in French. I marked, I   "' One must mark you men rather sharply, if
felt what he meant. What he would have blushed  one means you to take heed,' cried she with a wild
to utter in his mother tongue, he could by this mirth, which soon passed into a quick assiduity.
means write with a quiet conscience. It is the lan-. She took her handkerchief, and bound his hand
guage of reservations, equivocations, and lies: it is with it to staunch the fast-flowing blood.' Fora perfidious language! Heaven be praised! I can- give a half-crazed being,' cried she,'and regret
not find another word to express this perfide of not these few drops of blood. I am appeased, I
theirs in all its compass.  Our poor treulos, the am again myself. On my knees will I crave your
faithless of the English, are innocent as babes be- pardon: leave me the comfort of healing you.'
side it. Perfide means faithless with enjoyment, Vol. ii. pp. 128-132.
with insolence and malice. How enviable is the
culture of a nation that can figure out so many    Alternating with these agonies, we have
shades of meaning by a single word! French is many such scenes as the following.
exactly the language of the world; worthy to be-   "''Tis a pity, I declare,' said Serlo to Pilina,
come the universal language, that all may have it'that we have no ballet; else I would make you
in their power to cheat, and cozen, and betray each  dance me a pa de due with your first, and another
other!  His French letters were always smooth  with your second husband: the harper might be
and pleasant while you read them. If you chose lulled to sleep by the neasure; and your bits of
to believe it, they sounded warmly, even passion- feet and ant es would look so pretty, tnpping  to
ately: but if you examined narrowly, they were and fro upon the side stage.'' Of my ancles you
but phrases, accursed phrases! He has spoiled my do not know much,' replied she snappishly;'and
feeling to the whole language, to French literature, as to my bits of feet,' cried she, hastily reaching
even to the beautiful delicious expressions of noble below the tablepulling of her slppers, and holdsouls which may be found in it. I shudder when   elow the table, ullng o her slappers, and holda French word is spoken in my hearing.'         ing them out to Serlo;'here are the cases of them,
and I give you leave to find me nicer ones.'' It
W~hat follows is still more in the raving  were a serious task,' said he, looking at the elegant
raving  half-shoes.'In truth, one does not often meet
style-and we suppose is much more admired  with any thing so dainty.' They were of Parisian
in Germany.                                     workmanship; Philina had obtained them as a present from the countess, a lady whose foot was
"She sunk in thought; then after a brief pause, celebrated for its beauty.' A charming thing!'
she exclaimed with violence:'You are accustomed  cried Serlo;'my heart leaps at the sight of them.'
to have all things fly into your arms. No, you' What gallant throbs!' replied Philina.' There is
cannot feel; no man is in a case to feel the worth  nothine in the world beyond a pair of slippers,' said
of a woman that can reverence herself. By all the he;' of such pretty manufacture, in their proper
holy angels, by all the images of blessedness which  time and place-'  Philina took her slippers
a pure and kindly heart creates, there is not any  from his hands, crying,' You have squeezed them
thing more heavenly than the soul of a woman that all! They are far too wide for me!' She played
gives herself to the man she loves! We are cold, with them, and rubbed the soles of them together.
proud, high, clear-sighted, wise. while we deserve' How hot it is!' cried she, clapping the sole upon
the name of women; and all these qualities we her cheek, then again rubbing, and holding it to
lay down at your feet, the instant that we love, that Serlo. He was innocent enough to stretch out his
we hope to excite a return of love. Oh! how have hand to feel the warmth.'Clip! clap!' cried she,
I cast away my entire existence wittingly and wil- giving him a smart rap over the knuckles with the
lingly! But now will I despair, purposely despair. heel, that he screamed and drew back his hand;
Trhere is no drop of blood within me but shall'I will teach you how to use my slippers better.'
suffer, no fibre that I will not punish. Smile, I' And I will teach you also how to use old folk like
pray you; laugh at this theatrical display of pas- children,' cried the other; then sprang up, seized
sion.'                                          her, and plundered many a kiss, every one of which
"Wilhelm was far enough from any tendency  she artfully contested with a show of serious reluct.
to laugh. This horrible, half-natural, half-fictitious ance. In this romping, her long hair goot loase,
condition of his friend afflicted him but too deeply. and floated round the group; the chair overset; and
She looked him intently in the face, and asked: Aurelia, inwardly indignant at such rioting, arose' Can you say that you never yet betrayed a woman, in great vexation."-Vol. ii. pp. 166, 167.
that you never tried with thoughtless gallantry,
with false asseverations, with cajoling oaths, to    This said Aurelia has a little boy called
wheedle favour from her'' I can,' said Wilhelm, Felix-and dying at last of her sorrow  leaves' and indeed without much vanity; my life has been a letter for her betrayer, which she had en.
so simple and sequestered, I have had but few en- gaged our hero to deliver to him  in person.
ticoments to attempt such things. And what ahero to deliver to him  in person.
warning, my beautiful, my noble friend, is this But between the giving and execution of this
melancholy state in which I see you! Accept of mandate, the ingenious author has interpome a vow, which is suited to my heart, &c.; no lated a separate piece, which he has entitled
woman shall receive an acknowledgment of love cIthe confessions of a fair Saint"  and which
from  my lips, to whom  I cannot consecrate my has no other apparent connection with the
life.' She looked at him with a wild indifference;
and drew back some steps as he offered her his story than hat poor Aurelia's physician had
hand.'"Tis of no moment!' cried she:'so many lent it to her to read in her last moments.
W*omen's tears more or fewer! the ocean will not Thcugh eminently characteristic of the autho'




GOETHE'S WILHELM MEISTER.                                    117
it need not detain us long.  The first part is beautiful wife. Wilhelm immediately nquire.
full of vulgarity and obscurity-the last ab- what Count they are speaking of.
solutely unintelligible.  This fair saint lived'' One whonl you know very well,' said Jarno
in her youth among a set of people whom she' You yourself are the ghost that have chased the
calls German courtiers, and says, with singu- unhappy wiseacre into piety; you are the villai:
lar delicacy,                                  who have brought his pretty wife to such a state
that she inclines accompanying him.''And she
"I look upon it as a providential guidance, that is Lothario's sister?' cried our friend.' No other!'
none of' these many handsome, rich, and well- -' And Lothario knows l'-' The whole.'' O lei
dressed men could take my fancy. They were me fly!' cried Wilhelm:'How shall I appear be
rakes, and did not hide it; this scared me back: fore him? What can he say to me?'' T'hat n(
their speech was frequently adorned with double  man should cast a stone at his brother; that when
meanings; this offended me, and made me act with one composes long speeches, with a view to shame
coldness towards them. Many times their impro- his neighbours, he should speak them to a looking.
prieties surpassed belief"! and I did not prevent my- glass.''Do you know that also?'And many
self from being rude. Besides, my ancient coun- things beside,' saidJarno with a smile."
sellor had once in confidence contrived to tell me,
that, with the greater part of these lewd fellows,    From  this moment our hero gives up the
health as well as virtue was in danger! I now  idea of reproaching the Baron withhis perfidy
shuddered at the sight of them; I was afraid, if'one to Aurelia. and offers his services to decoy
of them in any way approached too near me. I away from him another love-sick damsel who
would not touch their cups or glasses, even the is then in the house, and whose hysterics, it
chairds they had been sitting on! Thus morally is thought, might retard the cure of the wound
and physically I remained apart from therrm"   he has just received in his duel.  He takes
She then falls in love with a certain Narciss, her away, accordingly, under some false prewith whom her first acquaintance was formed  text, to a certain Theresa, another deserted
at a ball, where, ";after having jigged it for a love of Lothario, and who is distinguished by
while in the crowd;  he came into the room  a singular passion for housekeeping and all
where I was, in consequence of a bleeding at manner of economical employments.  The
the nose, with which he had been overtaken, conception of this character, which is dwelt
and began to speak about a multitude of on at great length, is one of the most glaring
things!" In spite of this promising beginning, absurdities and affectations in the book. The
however, the mutual flame is not caught till author has actually endeavoured, in serious
they meet again at a dinner, where,            earnest, to exalt the common qualifications
" Even at table, we had many things to suffer; of a domestic drudge, or notable housewife,
for several of the gentlemen had drank too much: into heroic virtues, and to elaborate his faand after rising from it, they insisted on a game at vourite heroine out of these base materials.
forfeits. It went on with great vivacity and tumult. The whole scene is tinged, even be
Narciss had lost a forfeit: they ordered him, by The   hole scene is tinged, even beyond the
way of penalty, to whisper something pleasant in average standard of the book, with the appathe ear of every member of the company. It seems, rently opposite faults of vulgarity and extravahe staid too long beside my neighbour, the lady of gance.  This is the debut.
a captain. The latter on a sudden struck him such,She entered Wilhelr's room, inquiring if he
a box with hisist, that the powder flew about  y wanted any thing.' Pardon me,' said she,'for
eyes and blinded  me! When I had cleared my
and  in When I had cleare  my  having lodged you in a chamber which the smell of
sight, and in some degree recovered from my terror, 
I saw that both of them had drawn their swords. pait still rendei
is but just made ready; you are handselling this
rciss  was bleeding; and    the eloyotler, scarcely be room, which is appointed for my guests; also, you
wine, and rage, and jealousy, could scarcely be will have many things to pardon. My cook has run
held back by all the company: I seized Narciss, will have many things to pardon.  My cook has run
held back by all the company: I seized Narciss, away from me, at ths unseasonable time; and v
led him by the arm up stairs; and as I did not think away fron  re, at this unseasonable time; and 
my friend even here in safety from  his frantic serving-man has bruised his hand.  I might be
and bolted i       forced to manage all myself; and if it were so, we
enemy, I shut the door mand bolted it."          ust just put up with it. One is plagued with no
After this they are soon betrothed; but she  body so much as with one's servants: not one of
grows Methodistical, and he cold,-and their them will serve you, scarcely even serve himself.'
engagement flies off;-And then she becomes She said a good deal more on different matters: in
pious in good earnest, and is by turns a Hal- general she seemed to like to speak.
lean and a Herrnhuther, and we do not know    They then take a walk together, and, on
how many other things, and raves through  their return,
seventy or eighty pages, of which we have    " Wilhelm testified his admiration at her skill in
not couragre to attempt any analysis.          husbandry concerns.' Decided inclination, early
We now get rid in a great degree of plays  pporttnity, external impulse, and continued occ.a  pation in a useful business,' said she,'make many
and pla yers, and emerge into the region of  things, which were at first far harder, possible in
mysticism.  Wilhelm goes to the country to  life.' On returning home, she sent him to her little
deliver Aurelia's letter to Lothario; but finds garden.  Here he scarce could turn himself, so
that worthy Baron so busy preparing to fight narrow were the walks, so thickly was it sown and
a duel that he cannot find an opportunity to planted. On looking over to the court, he could
not keep from smiling: thefirewood was lying there,
discharge himself of his mission. He remains, as accurately sawed, split, and piled, as if it had
however, in the castle; and soon finds himself been part of the building, and had been intended to
in the midst of several petemptory and om- abide there constantly.  The tubs and implements,
niscient people, who make what they please  all clean, were standing in their places: the house
of him.  In discourse, they happen to make  was painted white and red; it was really pleasant
to behold! Whatever can be done by handicraft,
rnention of a certain Cournt a brother-in-law  that knows not beautiful proportions, but that la.
of Lothario's, who had grown melancholy, and  bours for convenience, cheerfulness, and durability
talked of joining the Herrnhuthere, with his appeared united on the spot."




118                        LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
She then puts on men's clothes! which, in- brage at such little fancies of her hzsbani, but ox
deed, she generally wore as most handy; and  always certain that he would return."
they have another walk, in the course of which    Our hero returns to the castle quite en
she tells him her story.  She was nobly born. chanted with this paragon of women —and
But                                            his rising flame is fed by the conversation
"' From my earliest youth, the kitchen, the store- which takes place with regard to her.  After
room, the granaries, the field, were my selected  amusing themselves with each telling confielement!  Cleanliness and order in the house dentially their pretty love adventures, the
seemed, even while I was playing in it, to be my accomplished  Lothario holds forth in this
peculiar instinct, my peculiar object. This tendency edifying and decided manner.
gave pleasure to my father; and he by degrees af- edifying         d manner.
farded it the most suitable employment. When we    "'It is true,' observed Lothario,' there can
were by ourselves, when walking through the fields, scarcely any feeling in the world be more agreeawhen I was helping to examine his accounts, I ble, than when the heart, after a pause of indiffercould perceive what happiness he was enjoying.'"  ence, again opens to love for some new object. Yet
Her mother took great delight in a private  I would for ever have renounced that happiness,
thieatre —"'But I,"she observed, 1"very seldom  had fate been pleased to unite me with Theresa.
What a heaven had I figured for myself beside
staid among the audience; however, I always Theresa! Not the heaven of an enthusiastic bliss;
snuffed their candles, and prepared the supper, but of a sure life on earth: order in prosperity,
— antd put the wardrobe in order."  After her courage in adversity, care for the smallest, and a
father's death, her mother wastes the property, spirit capable of comprehending and managing the
and she goes as a kind of steward or manager; greatest  You may well forgive me,' adde  he,
into the family of a neighbouring lady, whom  and turned to Wilhelm with a smile,'that I forshe   faintly     neighbourtrtg               sook Aurelia for Theresa: with the one I could
"she faithfully assisted in struggling with her expect a calm and cheerful life, with the other not
steward and domestics."                        a happy hour.'' I will confess,' said Wilhelm,
"' I am  neither of a niggardly nor grudging' that in coming hither, I had no small anger in my
temper; but we women are accustomed to insist, heart against you; that I proposed to censure with
temore earnestly than women, that nothing shall e severity your conduct to Aurelia.'' It was really
more earnestly than men, that nothin, shall he
wasted. Embezzlement of all sorts is intolerable censurable,' said Lothario:' I should not have exto us. Here I was in my elenent once more.'    changed my friendship for her with the sentiment
of love; I should not, in place of the respect which
This is enough, we suppose, for the char- she deserved, have intruded an attachment she was
acter of Theresa.  But the accomplished Lo- neither calculated to excite nor maintain. Alas!
thario falls in love with this angel, and here  she was not lovely when she loved! the greatest misery
are the grounds on which he justifies his pre-         can befall a woman."
ference.                                          And in this cavalier manner is the subject
i- What is the highest happiness of mortals, if dismissed. He denies, however, that Felix is
not to execute what we consider right and good; his child, or Aurelia's either; and avers that
to be really masters of the means conducive to our he was brought to her by the old woman
aims? And where should or can our first and Barbara, by whom  the boy was generally
nearest aims be but within the house? All those attended.  On this hint Wilhelm  flies back
indispensable, and still to be renewed supplies, to the town finds out Barbara in whom he
where do we expect, do we require to find them,                  s out  Barbara
if it is not in the place where we arise and where at length recognises the attendant of his first
we go to sleep, where kitchen and cellar, and every love, Mariana, and learns from  her that the
species of accommodation for ourselves and ours is boy Felix is the offspring of their early conto be always ready? What unvarying activity is nexion, and that the unhappy mother died in
needed to conduct this constantly recurring series consequence of his desertion not only heartin unbroken living order! It is when a woman hasence of his desertion
attained this inward mastery, that she truly makes broken but innocent! He is long incredulous,
the husband whom she loves a master: her atten- and appoints the ancient crone to come to him
tion will acquire all sorts of knowledge for her; her again at night, and abide all his interrogaactivity will turn them all to profit. Thus is she de- tions.-The scene which follows, we think. is
pendent upon no one; and she procures her husband,       he onlypart
genuine independence, that which is interior and  v  y    t                  d
domestic: whatever he possesses he beholds se. almost of the  ook which produces any thing
cured; what he earns, well employed.'" &c.     of a pathetic effect.
are enaged accordingly to be mar-  Midnight was past, when something rustled at
They are engaged accordingly to be mar- the half-open door, and Barbara came in wvith a
ried; but the match is broken off' by an un- little basket.' I am to tell you the story of our
lucky discovery, that this gay Lothario had  woes,' said she;' and I must believe that you will
formerly had a love affair with Theresa's sit unmoved at the recital; that you are waiting for
mother, when she was travelling abroad under me but to satisfy your curiosity; that you will now,
a feigned name! We are rather surprised, as you did fbrtnerly, retire within your cold selfish-,    ness, while our hearts are breaking. But look you
we confess, at the notable fair one's delicacy, here! Thus, on that happy evening, did I bring you
in considering this as a bar to their union-for the bottle of champagne! thus did I place the three
her notions on the subject of conjugal fidelity  glasses on the table! and as you then began, with
must be owned  to be sufficiently liberal, soft nursery tales, to cozen us and lull us asleep,
having intimated. in reference to her lovers    will I now with stern truths instruct you and
keep you waking.'
subsequent intrigues with Aurelia and others. keep you waking.'
Wilhelm knew not what to say, when the crone
that                                           in fact let go the cork, and filled three glasses to
" Even if he had been her husband, she would  the brim.' Drink!' cried she, having emptied at
have had sufficient spirit to endure a matter of this a draught her fobaming glass.'Drink, ere the spirit
kind, if it had not troubled her domestic order: at of it pass! This third glass shall froth away un
least she often used to say, that a wife, who pro- tasted, to the memory of my unhappy Mariana.
perly conducted her economy, should take no umrn-  How red were her lips, when she then drank your




GOETHE'S WILHELM MEISTER.                                     11i
health! Ah! and now for ever pale and cold!' of books, a multitude of rolls had been inserted.'Sibyl! Fury!' Wilhelm cried, springing up, and  Nobody was in the hall. The rising sun shone
striking the table with his fist.'Softly, Mein through the window, right on Wilhelm, and kindly
Herr!' replied the crone;'you shall not ruffle saluted him as he came in.
me. Your debts to us are deep and dark: the    "' Be seated!' cried a voice, which seemed to
railing of a debtor does not anger one. But you issue from the altar. Wilhelm placed himself in a
are right: the simplest narrative will punish you small arm-chair, which stood against the tapestry
sufficiently. Hear, then, the struggle and the vic- where he had entered. There was no seat but this
tory of Mariana striving to continue yours.'"  in the room; Wilhelm  was obliged to take it,
She then tells a long storyp explainingaway though the morning radiance dazzled him; the
the indications of perfidy, on the strength of        stood fast, he could only keep his hand before
his eyes.
which he had quitted her; and the scene    "But now the curtain, which hung down above
ends in this very dramatic and truly touching  the altar, went asunder with a gentle rustling g; and
manner.                                        showed, within a picture-frame, a dark empty aper"'Good, dear Barbara i' cried Wilhelm, spring- ture. A man stept forward at it, in a common dress;
ing up, and seizing the old woman by the hand, saluted the astonished looker-on, and said to him:'we have had enough of mummery and prepara-  Do you not recognise me?'"
tion! Thy indifferent, thy calm, contented tone    We have not room, however, for the detail
betrays thee. Give me back my Mariana!  Ste of all this mummery. A succession of figures,
is living! she is near at hand! Not in vain didst known and unknown. present themselves;
thou choose this late lonely hour to visit me; not known and unknown present themselves;in vain hast thou prepared me by thy most delicious among others. the ghost of Hamlet.  At last,
narrative.  Where is she? where hast thou hid after a pause,
her?  I believe all, I will promise to believe all.
Thy object is attained. Where hast thou hid her?   "The Abb  came to view, and placed himself
Let me light thee with this candle,-let me once behind the green table.' Come hither!' cried he
more see her fair and kindly face!'          to his marvelling friend. He went, and mounted
" fHe had pulled old Barbara from her chair: she tup the steps. On the green cloth lay a little roll.
stared at him; tears started to her eyes; wild pangs' Here is your Indenture,' said the Abb6;'take it
of grief took hold of her.' What luckless error,' to heart; it is of weighty import.' Wilhelm lifted,
cried she, leaves you still a moment's hope? Yes, opened it, and read:
I have hidden her-but beneath the ground! nei-                "INDENTURE.ther the light of the sun nor any social taper shall
again illuminate her kindly face. T'ake the boy    " Art is long, life short, judgment difficult, occaagain illuminate her g kiandly tface. Take the boy sion transient. To act is easy, to think is hard; to
Felix to her grave, and say to him: " There lies  act according to our thought is troublesome. Every
thy mother, whom thy father doomed unheard."
The heart of Mariana beats no longer with impa-beginning is cheerful; the threshold is the place of
tience to behold you.  Not in a neighbouring expectation. The boy stands astonished, his impressions guide him; he learns sportfully, seriouschamber is she waiting the conclusion of my narrah                           Imitation is born
tive, or fable; the dark chamber has received her, ness comes on him by surprise. Imitation is born
to which no bridegroom follows, from which none with us; what should be imitated is not easy to
comes to meet a lover."             discover.  The excellent is rarely found, more
comes to meet a alover.   She cast herself upon the rarely valued. The height charms us, the steps to
floor beside a chair, and wept bitterly."       t do not; with the summit in our eye, we love to
She then shows him some of the poor girl's walk along the plain. It is but a part of art that
letters, which he had refused to receive, and  can be taught; the artist needs it all. Who knows
another which she had adiressed to him  on  it half, speaks much and is always wrong; who
her deathbed. One of the former is as follows. knows it wholly, inclines to act, and speaks seldom
or late. The former have no secrets and no force;
"'Thou regardest me as guilty-and so I am; the instruction they can give is like baked brea4,
but not as thou thinkest. Come to me! It in- savouryand satisfying for a single day; but flout
volves the safety of a soul, it involves a life, two cannot be sown, and seed-corn ought not to be
lives, one of which must ever be dear to thee. ground. Words are good, but they are not the best.
This, too, thy suspicion will discredit; yet I will The best is not to be explained by words. The
speak it in the hour of death: the child which I spirit in which we act is the highest matter. Action
carry underneath my heart, is thine.  Since I can be understood and again represented by the
began to love thee, no other man has even pressed spirit alone. No one knows what he is doing, while
my hand: 0 that thy love, that thy uprightness, he acts rightly; but of what is wrong we are always
had been the companions of my youth!'"        conscious.  Whoever works with symbols only, is
After this he sends the boy and Mignon to  a pedant, a hypocrite, or a bungler.  T'here are
his new love. Theresa, and goes back himself  many such, and they like to be together. Their
to Lothario, by whom, and  his energetic  babbling detains the scholar; their obstinate medi.
riends, the touching tawle      hisad to tell  is  ocrity vexes even the best. The instruction, which
friends, t he touching tale.he.had to tell  is the true artist gives us, opens up the mind; for
treated with indifference and levity."  And  where words fail him, deeds speak. The true
now comes the mystery of mysteries.  After scholar learns from the known to unfold the una great deal of oracular talk, he is ordered, known, and approaches more and more to being a
one morning at sunrise, to proceed to a part master.
of the castle to which he had never before    "' Enough!' cried the Abbe;'the rest in due
of the  castle  to  which  he had  never before time. Now, look round you among these cases.'
found access; and when he gets to the end of'    Wilhelm went and read the titles of the rolls.
a dark hot passage, he hears a voice call " En- With astonishment, he found Lothario's Apprenticeter!" and he lifts a tapestry and enters!-    ship, Jarno's Apprenticeship, and his own Appren" The hall, in which he now stood, appeared to ticeship placed there, with many others whose
ave at one time been a chapel; instead of the altar names he did not know.'May I hope to cast a
he observed a large table raised some steps above look into these rolls?'' In this chamber, there is
he observed a large table raised some steps above
the floor, and covered with a green cloth hanging now nothing hid from you.''May I put a quees
over it. On the top of this, a drawn curtain seemed  tion?'  Ask not,' said the Abbe.'Hail to thee,
as if it hid a picture; on the sides were spaces beau- young man! Thy apprenticeship is done; Nature
fifully worked, and covered in with fine wire net. has pronounced thee free.'"
ting, like the shelves of a library; only here, instead    When he afterwards inspects this roll, he




k20                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
finds "his whole life delineated with large, the elective affinities prevail. Theresa beginc
sharp strokes, and a number of bland and to cool to her new love; andy on condition of
general reflections!"   We doubt whether Natalia undertaking to comfort Wilhelm  conthere is any such nonsense as this, any sents to go back to her engagements with Lowhere else in the universe.                thario-and the two couples, and some more,
After this illumination, the first step he are happily united.
takes, with the assent of these oracular sages,   This is the ultimate catastrophe —though
is to propose for Theresa; in a long letter. they who seek it in the book will not get at it
But while waiting for her answer, he is sent quite so easily-there being an infinite varieby Lothario to visit his sister, to whose care, ty of other events intermingled or premised.
it appears, poor Mignon had been transferred There is the death of poor Mignon-and her
by Theresa. This sister he takes. of course, musical obsequies in the Hall of the Pastfor the Countess from whom he had parted the arrival of an Italian Marchese, who turns
so strangely in the castle, and is a little em- out to be her uncle. and recognises his brother
barrassed at the thought of meeting her. But in the old crazy harper, of whom, though he
he discovers on the road that there is another has borne us company all along, we have not
sister; and that she is the very healing an- had time to take notice-the return of Philigel who had given him the great coat when na along with a merry cadet of Lothario's
wounded in the forest, and had haunted his house, as sprightly and indecorous as everfancy ever since.                          the saving of Felix from poisoning, by his
"He entered the house; he found himself in the drinking out of the bottle instead of the glass
most earnest, and, as he almost felt, the holiest -and the coming in of the Count, whom
place, which he had ever trod. A pendent dazzling Wilhelm had driven into dotage and piety by
lustre threw its light upon a broad and softly ristng wearing his clothes-and the fair Countess,
stair, which lay befiore him, and which parred ito who is now discovered to have suffered for
two divisions at a turn above. Marble statues and
busts were standing upon pedestals, and arranged in years from her momentary lapse in the castle
niches; some of them seemed known to him. The -the picture of her husband having, by a
impressions of our childhood abide with us, even most apt retribution, been pressed so hard to
in their minutest traces. He recognised a Muse her breast in that stolen embrace, as to give
which had formerly belonged to his grandfather." pain at the time, and to afflict her with fears
He finds poor Mignon in a wretched state of cancer for very long after! Besides all
of health-and ascertains that it is a secret this, there are the sayings of a very decided
passion for him that is preying on her deli- and infallible gentleman called Jarno-and
cate form. In the mean time, and just as his his final and not very intelligible admission,
romantic love for Natalia (his fair hostess) that all which our hero had seen in the hall
has resumed its full sway, she delivers him  of the castle was " but the relies of a youthful
Theresa's letter of acceptance-very kind and undertaking, in which the greater part of the
confiding, but warning him not to lay out any initiated were once in deep earnest, though
of his money, till she can assist and direct him  all of them now viewed it with a smile."
about the investment. This letter perplex-   Many of the, fssages to which we have
es. him a little, and he replies, with a bad now alluded are  -ecuted with great talent;
grace, to the warm congratulations of Natalia and we are very sensible are better worth ex-when, just at this moment Lothario's friend tracting than many of those we have cited.
steps in most opportunely to inform  them, But it is too late now to change our selections
that Theresa had been discovered not to be -and we can still less afford to add to them.
the daughter of her reputed mother!-and On the whole, we close the book with some
that the bar to her union with Lothario was feelings of mollification towards its faults,
therefore at an end. Wilhelm affects great and a disposition to abate, if possible, some
magnanimity in resigning her to his prior part of the censure we were impelled to beclaims-but is puzzled by thewarmth of her stow on it at the beginning. It improves cerlate acceptance-and still more, when a still tain]y as it advances-and though nowhere
more ardent letter arrives, in which she sticks probable, or. conversant indeed either with
to her last choice, and assures him that " her natural or conceivable characters, the inventdream of living with Lothario has wandered ive powers of the author seem to strengthen
far away from  her soul " and the matter by exercise, and come gradually to be less
seems finally settled, when she comes post- frequently employed on childish or revolting
haste in her own person, flies into his arms, subjects. While we hold out the work thereand exclaims, "My friend-my love-my  fore as a curious and striking instance of.that
husband! Yes, for ever thine! amidst the diversity of national tastes, which makes a
warmest kisses "-and he responds,  O0 my writer idolized in one part of polished Europe,
Theresa!"-and kisses in return. In spite who could not be tolerated in another, we
of all this, however, Lothario and his friends would be understood as holding it out as an
come to urge his suit; and, with the true Ger- object rather of wonder than of contempt;
man taste for impossibilities and protracted and though the greater part certainly could
agonies, the whole party is represented as not be endured, and indeed could not have
living together quite quietly and harmonious- been written in England, there are many pasly for several weeks-none of the parties sages of which any country might reasonably
pressing for a final determination, and all of be proud, and which demonstrate, that if taste
them occupied in the interval, with a variety be local and variable, genius is permanent ant.of tasks, duties, and dissertations. At last universal.




CORRPSPON  aiNCFE OF SAMUEL RICHARDSON.                          121
((gQctober, 1511.)
The Correspondence of SAMUEL RICHARDSON, Author of Pamela, Clarissa, and Sir Charles
Grandisonm; selected from the original Manuscripts bequeathed to his Family.  To which are
prefixed, a Biographical account of that Author, andl Observations on his Writings. By ANNA
LIETITIA BARBAULD. 6 vols. 8vo. Phillips, London: 1804.
THE public has great reason to be sf{isfled,  and of his sitting down, after his adventures
we think, with Mrs. Barbaulcds share in this are conclude(, to give a particular account cf
publication. She has contributed a very well them to the public.
written Introduction; and she has suppressed    There is something rather childish, we
about twice as many letters as are now pre- think, in all this investigation; and the piobsented to our consideration. Favourably as lem  of comparative probability seems to be
we are disposed to think of all for which stated purely for thd pleasure of the solution.
she is directly responsible, the perusal of the No reader was ever disturbed, in the middle
whole six volumes has fully convinced us of an interesting story, by any scruple about
that we are even more indebted to her for- the means or the inducements which the narbearance than to her bounty.               rator may be presumed to have had for tellThe fair biographer unquestionably posses- ing it. While he is engaged with the story,
ses very considerable talents, and exercises such an inquiry never suggests itself; and
her powers of writing with singular judgment when it is sugg'ested; he recollects that the
and propriety. Many of her observations are whole is a fiction, invented by the aut.hio Itur
acute and striking, and several of them very his amusement. and( that the best way of
fine and delicate. Yet this is not, perhaps, communicating it must be that by which he
the general character of her genius; and it is most interested and least fatigued. To us
must be acknowledged, that she has a tone it appears very obvious, that the first of the
and manner which is something formal and three modes, or the author's own narrative, is
heavy; that she occasionally delivers trite and by far the most eligible; and for this plain
obvious truths with the pomp and solemnity reason, that it lays him under much less reof important discoveries, and sometimes at- straint than either of the other tnwo. He can
tempts to exalt and magnify her subject by inltroduce a letter or a story whenever he
a very clumsy kind of declamation. With finds it convenient, and can make use of the
all those defects. however, we thiink the life dramatic or conversation style as often as
and observations have so much substantial the subject requires it. In epistolary writing
merit, that most readers will agree with us there must be a great deal of repetition and
in thinking that they are worth much more egotism;  and we must submit, as on the
than all the rest of the publication.       stage, to the intolerable burden of an insipid
She sets off indeed with a sort of formal confidlant, with whose admiration of the hero's
dissertation upon novels and romances in epistles the reader may not always be disgeneral; and, after obligingly recapitulating posed to sympathize. There is one species
the whole history of this branch of literature  of novel indleed (but only one), to which the
from the Theagenes and Chariclea of Helio- epistolary style is peculiarly adapted; that is
dorus to the Gil Blas and Nouvelle Heloise the novel. in which the whole interest deof modern times, she proceeds to distinguish pends, not upon the adventures, but on the
these performances into three several classes, characters of the persons represented, and in
according to the mode and form of narration which the story is of very subordinate imadopted by the author. The first, she is portance, and only serves as an occasion to
pleased to inform us, is the narrative or epic draw forth the sentiments and feelings of the
form,'in which the whole story is put into the agents. The Heloise of Rousseau may be
mouth of the author, who is supposed, like considered as the model of this species gf
the Muse, to know every thing, and is not ewriting; and M/lrs. Barbauld certainly overobliged to give any account of the sources of I looked this obvious distinction, when she as.
his information; the second is that in which serted that the author of that extraordinary
the hero relates his own adventures; and the 1 work is to be reckoned among the imitators of
third is that of epistolary correspondence, Richardson. In the Heloise, there is scarcely
where all the agents in the drama successive- any narrative at all; and the interest may be
ly narrate the incidents in which they are I said to consist altogether in the eloquent ex
principally concerned. It was with Richard- { pression of fine sentiments and exalted passon, Mrs. Barbauld then informs us, that this sion. All Richardson's novels, on the other
last mode of novel writing originated; and handl are substantially narrative; and the
she enters into a critical examination of its ad- letters of most of his characters contain little
vantages and disadvantages, and of the cornm- more than a minute journal of the conversaparative probability of a person dispatching a tions and transactions in which they were
narrative of every interesting incident or con- successively engaged. The style of Richard.
versationl iu his life to his friends by the post, son might be perfectly copied, thougb the




i22                       LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
epistolary form were to be dropped; but no society, than in reading to these girls in, it may be
imitation of the Heloise could be recognised, a little back shop, or a mantua-maker's parloui
if it were not in the shape of letters.       with a brick floor."-p. xl. xli.
After finishing her discourse upon Novels,   During his apprenticeship, he distinguished
Mrs. Barbauld proceeds to lay before her himself only by exemplary diligence and
readers some account of the life and perform- fidelity; though he informs us, that he even
ances of Richardson.  The biography is very  then enjoyed the correspondence of a gentle
scanty, and contains nothing that can be man, of great accomplishments, from  whose
thought very interesting.  He was the son of patronage, if he had lived he entertained the
a joiner in Derbyshire, but always avoided  highest expectations.  The rest of his worldly
mentioning the town in which he was born. history seems to have been pretty nearly that
He was intended at first for the church; but of Hogarth's virtuous apprentice. He married
his father, finding that the expense of his his master's daughter, and succeeded to his
education would be too heavy, at last bound  business; extended his wealth and credit by
him  apprentice to a printer.  He never was sobriety, punctuality, and integrity; bought a
acquainted with any language but his own. residence in the country; and, though he did
From his childhood, he was remarkable for not attain to the supreme dignity of Lord
invention, and was famous among his school- Mayor of London, arrived in due time at the
fellows for amusing them  with tales and  respectable situation of Master of the Worstories which he composed extempore, and  shipful Company of Stationers. In this course
usually rendered, even at that early age, the of obscure prosperity, he appears to have
vehicle of some useful moral.  He was con- continued till he had passed his fiftieth year,
stitutionally shy and bashful; and instead of without giving any intimation of his future
mixing with his companions in noisy sports celebrity, and even without appearing to be
and exercises, he used to read and converse conscious that he was differently gifted from
with the sedate part of the other sex, or assist the other flourishing traders of the metropolis.
them in the composition of their love-letters. He says of himself, we observe, in one of
The following passage, extracted by Mrs. these letters-" My business, till within these
Barbauld from one of the suppressed letters, few  years, filled all my time.  I had no
is more curious and interesting, we think, leisure; nor, being unable to write by a reguthan any thing in those that are published.   lar plan, knew I that I had so much invention,
"As a bashful and not forward boy, I was an
"As a bashful and not forward boy, I was an till I almost accidentally slid into the writing
early favourite with all the young women of taste of Pamela.  And besides, little did I imagine
and reading in the neighbourhood. Half a dozen that any thing I could write would be so
of' them, when met to work with their needles, kindly received by the world."  Of the origin
used, when they got a book they liked, and thought and progress of this first work he has himself
I should, to borrow me to read to them; their left the following authentic account.
mothers sometimes with them; and both mothers
and daughters used to be pleased with the observa-   " Two booksellers, my particular friends, entions they put me upon making.                treated me to write for them a little volume of
"I was not more than thirteen, when three of letters, in a common style, on such subjects as
these young women, unknown to each other, having might be of use to those country readers who were
an high opinion of my taciturnity, revealed to me unable to indite for themselves.  Will it be any
their love-secrets in order to induce me to give them  harm, said I, in a piece you want to be written so
copies to write after, or correct, for answers to their low, if' we should instruct them how they should
lovers' letters; nor did any of them ever know that think and act in common cases, as well as indite?
I was the secretary to the others. I have been di- They were the more urgent with me to begin the
rected to chide, and even to repulse, when an little volume for this hint. I set about it; and, in
offence was either taken or given, at the very time the progress of it, writing two or three letters to
that the heart of the chider or repulser was open instruct handsome girls, who were obliged to go
before me, overflowing with esteem and affection; out to service, as we phrase it, how to avoid the
and the fair repulser, dreading to be taken at her snares that might be laid against their virtue; the
word, directing this word, or that expression, to be above story recurred to my thought: and hence
softened or changed. One highly gratified with sprung Pamela."-Introd. p. liii.
her lover's fervour and vows of everlasting love,
has said, when I have asked her direction-I can-   This publication we are told, which mlade
not tell you what to write; but (her heart on her its first appearance in 1740, was received with
lips) you cannot write too kindly. All her fear a burst of applause.  Dr. Sherlock recomwas only that she should incur slight for her kind- mended it from the pulpit.  Mr. Pope said it
ness. "-Vol. i. Introduction, p. xxxix. xl.   would do more good than volumes of seimons;
We add Mrs. Barbauld's observation on and another literary oracle declared, that if
this passage, for the truth of the sentiment it all other books were to be burnt, Pamela and
contains, though  more inelegantly written  the Bible should be preserved! Its success
than any other sentence in her performance.  was not less brilliant in the world of fashion.
" Human nature is human nature in every class; (" Even at Ranelagh," Mrs. Barbauld assures
the hopes and the fears, the perplexities and the us, "it was usual for the ladies to hold up the
struggles, of these low-bred girls in probably an volumes to one another, to show they had got
obscure village, supplied the fiuture author with the book that every one was talking of." And,
those ideas which, by their gradual development, what will appear still more extraordinary, one
produced the characters of a Clarissa and a Cle- oentleman declares that he will give it to iis
mentina; nor was he probably happier, or amused 
in a more lively manner, when sittingin his grotto, son as soon as he can read, that he may have
with a circle of the best informed women in Eng- an early impression of virtue.-After faithfully
land about him, who in after times courted his reciting these and other testimonies of the




CORRESPONDENCE OF SAMUEL RICHARDSON.                                     123
nigh estimation in which this work was once  cious observations  upon  this  popular and
held by all ranks of people, Mrs. Barbauld  original performance.  After a slight sketcb
subjoins some very acute and judicious ob- of the story, she observes,
servations both on its literary merits and its    "The plot, as we have seen, is simple, and no
moral tendency. We cannot find room for the  underplots interfere with the main design-no diwhole of this critique; but there is so much  gressions, no episodes. It is wonderful that, without
good sense and propriety in the following pas- these helps of common writers, he could support a
sage, that we cannot refrain from  inserting it. work of such length.  With Clarissa it begins,with Clarissa it ends. We do not come upon ui" So long as Pamela is solely occupied in schemes expected adventures and wonderful recognitions, by
to escape from her persecutor, her virtuous resist- quick turns and surprises: We see her fate from
ance obtains our unqualified approbation; but from  afar, as it were through a long avenue, the gradual
the moment she begins to entertain hopes of mar- approach to which, without ever losing sight of the
ryying hiln, we admire her guarded prudence, rather object, has more of simplicity and grandeur than the
than her purity of mind. She has an end in view, most cunning labyrinth that can be contrived by
an interested end; and we can only consider her as art. In the approach to the modern country seat,
the conscious possessor of a treasure, which she is we are made to catch transiently a side-view of it
wisely resolved not to part with but for its just price. through an opening of the trees, or to burst upon it
Her staying in his house a moment after she found  from a sudden turning in the road; but the old
herself at liberty to leave it, was totally unjustifiable: mansion stood full in the eye of the traveller, as he
her repentant lover ought to have followed her to  drew near it, contemplating its turrets, which grew
her father's cottage, and to have married her from  larger and more distinct ecery step that he adthence. The familiar footing upon which she con- vanced; and leisurely filling his eye and his imagindescends to live with the odious Jewkes, shows ation with still increasing ideas of its magnificence.
also, that her fear of offending the man she hoped  As the work advances, the character rises; the
to make her husband, had got the better of her distress is deepened; our hearts are torn with pity
delicacy and just resentment; and the sanle fear and indignation; bursts of grief succeed one another,
leads her to give up her correspondence with honest till at length the mind is composed and harmonized
Mr. Williams, who had generously sacrificed his with emotions of milder sorrow; we are calmed
interest with his patron in order to effect her deliv- into resignation, elevated with pious hope, and diserance. In real life, we should, at this period, con- missed glowing with the conscious triumphs of virsider Pamela as an interesting girl: but the author tue.-Introd. pp. lxxxiii. lxxxiv.
says, she married Mr. B. because he had won her
affection: and we are bound, it may be said, to be-    She then makes some excellent remarks on
lieve an author's own account of' his characters. the conduct of the story, and on the characters
But again, it is quite natural that a girl, who had  that enliven it; on that of the heroine, she
such a genuine love for virtue, should feel her heart observes
attracted to a man who was endeavourirng to destroy
that virtue?  Can a woman value her honour infi    "In one instance  however, Clarissa certainly
nitely above her life, and hold in serious detestation  sins against the delicacy of her character, that is,
every word and look contrary to the nicest purity, in allowing herself to be made a show of' to the
and yet be won by those very attempts against her loose companions of ILovelace. But, how does her
honour to which she expresses so much repugnance? character rise, when we come to the more distress-His attempts were of the grossest nature; and  ful scenes; the view of her horror, when, deluded
previous to, and during those attempts, he endeav- by the pretended relations, she re-enters the fatal
oured to intimidate her by sternness. He puts on house; her temporary insanity after the outrage, in
the master too much, to win upon her as the lover. which she so affectingly holds up to Lovelace the liCan affection be kindled by outrage and insult? cence he had procured, and her dignified behaviour
Surely, if her passions were capable of being awa- Nwhen she first sees her ravisher, after the perpetrakened in his favour, diiring such a persecution, the  tion of his crime! What finer subject could be precircumstance would be capable of an interpretation sented to the painter, than the prison scene, where
very little consistent with that delicacy the author she is represented   kneeling amidst the gloom and
meant to give her.  l'he other alternative is, that horror of that disal abode; illumiating, as it
she married him for                               were, the dark chamber, her face reclined on her'The gmit coach and dappled Flamders niares.'  crossed arms, her white garments floating round
her in the negligence of woe; Belfbrd contemplating
Indeed, the excessive humility and gratitude ex- her with respectful commiseration: Or, the scene
pressed by herself and her parents on her exaltation, of calmer but heart-piercing sorrow, in the interview
chews a regard to rank and riches beyond the just Colonel Morden has with her in her dying mo.
memure of an independent mind. The pious good- ments! She is represented fallen into a slumber, ir.
man Andrews should not have thought. his virtuous her elbow-chair, leaning on the widow Lovick,
daughter so infinitely beneath her licentious mas- whose left arm  is around her neck: one faded
ter, who, after all, married her to gratify his own  cheek resting on the good woman's bosom, the
passions.-Introd. pp. lxiii.-lxvi.                kindly warmth of which had overspread it with a
The first part of this wvork, which concludes faintish flush, the other pale and hollow, as if.lready iced over by death; her hands, the blueness
with the marriage of the heroine, was written   f ead iced oveins contrasting their whiteness, hanging
in three months; and was founded, it seems, lifeless before her-the widow's tears dropping unon a real story which had been related to  felt upon her face-Colonel Morden, with his arms
Richardson by a gentleman of his acquaint- folded, gazing on her in silence, her coffin just apance.  It was followed by a second part, con- pearing behind a screen. What admiration, what
fessedly very inferior to the first, and was reverence, does the author inspire us with for the
innocent sufferer, the sufferings too of such a pecuridiculed by Fielding in his Joseph Andrews; liar nature!
an offence for which he was never forgiven.    1"There is something in virgin purity, to which
Within eight years after the appearance of  the imagination willingly pays homage. In all ages,
Pamela, Richardson's reputation may be said  something saintly has been attached to the idea of
to have attained its zenith, by the successive  unblemished  chastity; but it was reserved fot
publication of the volumes of his Clarissa. Richardson to overcome all circumstances of die.
publication rf           r  honour and disgrace, and to throw a splendour
We nave great pleasure in laying before our around the violated virgin, more radiant than she
readers a part of Mrs. Barbaul's very judi- possessed in her first bloom. He has drawn tJhe




124                        LITERATURE AN]) BIOGRAPHY.
triumph of mental chastity; he has drawn it un- man whose study it is to avoid fighting. is not quite
contaminated, untarnished, and incapable of min- so likely as another to be the best."
gling with pollution.-The scenes which follow the                 Introd. pp. cxxvii. cxxviii.
death of the heroine, exhibit grief in an affecting
variety of forms, as it is modified by the characters   Besides his great works, Richardson pubof different survivors. They run into considerable lished only a paper in the Rambler (the 97th);
length, but we have been so deeply interested, that an edition of ZEsop's Fables, with Reflections;
we feel it a relief to have our grief drawn off, as it and a volume of Familiar Letters for the use
welre, by a variety of sluices, and we are glad not of persons in inferior situations.  It was this
to be dismissed till we have shed tears, even to latter work which gave occasion to Pamela:
it is excellently adapted to its object, and we
This criticism we think is equally judicious think may be of singular use to Mr. Wordsand refined; and we could easily prolong this worth and his friends in their great scheme
extract, in a style not at all inferior.  With  of turning. all our poetry into the lanuafge of
regard to the morality of the work, Mrs. Bar- the common people.  In this view, we rebauld is very indignant at the notion of its commend it very earnestly to their considerabeing intended to exhibit a raie instance of tion.
female chastity.                                 There is little more to be said of the trans.
She objects with some reason, to the num- actions or events of Richardson's life.  His
ber of interviews which Clarissa is represented  books were pirated by the Dublin booksellers:
to have had with Lovelace after the catas- at which he was very angry, and could obtain
trophe; and adds, " If the reader, on casually  no redress.  He corresponded with a great
opening the book, can doubt of any scene be- number of females; and gradually withdrew
tween them, whether it passes before or after himself from the fatigues of business to his
the outrage, that scene is one too much."-  country residence at Parson's Green; where
The character of Lovelace, she thinks, is very  his life was at last terminated in 1761, by a
much of a fancy piece; and affirms, that our stroke of apoplexy, at the age of seventy-two.
national manners do not admit of the existence    His moral character was in the highest deof an original.  If he had been placed in gree exemplary and amiable.  He was temFrance, she observes, and his gallantries di- perate, industrious, and upright; punctual and
rected to married women, it might have been  honourable in all his dealings; and with a
more natural; "but, in England, Lovelace kindness of heart, and a liberality and genewould have been run through the body, long  rosity of disposition, that must have made him
before he had seen the face either of Clarissa a very general favourite, even if he had never
or Colonel Morden."                           acquired any literary distinction. —He had a,
Mrs. Barbauld gives us a copious account considerable share of vanity. and was observof the praise and admiration that poured in ed to talk more willingly on the subject of his
upon the author from all quarters, on the pub- own works than on any other.  The lowness
lication of this extraordinary work: he was of his original situation, and the-lateness of
overwhelmed  with  complimentary  letters. his introduction into polite society, had given
messages, and visits. But we are most grati- to his manners a great shyness and reserve;
flied with the enthusiasm of one of his female and a consciousness of his awkwardness and
correspondents, who tells him that she is very his merit together, rendered him  somewhat
sorry, "'that he was not a woman, and blest jealous in his intercourse with persons in more
twith the means of shining as Clarissa did; for conspicuous situations, and made him require
a person capable of drawing such a character, more courting and attention, than every one
would certainly be able to act in the same. was disposed to pay. He had high notions of
manner, if in a like situation!"             parental authority, and does not seem always
After Clarissa, at an interval of about five quite satisfied with the share of veneration
years, appeared his Sir Charles Grandison. which his wife could be prevailed on to shov
Upon this work, also, Mrs. Barbauld has made for him.  He was particularly partial to the
many excellent observations, and pointed out society of females; and lived, indeed, as Mrs.
both its blemishes and beauties, with a very  Barbauld has expressed it, in a flower-garden
delicate and discerning hand. Our limits will of ladies.  Mrs. Barbauld will have it, that
not permit us to enter upon this disquisition: this was in the way of his profession as an
we add only the following acute paragralA.   author; and that he frequented their society
"Sir Charles, as a Christian, was not to fight; to study the female heart, and instruct himduel; yet he was to be recognised as the finished self in all the niceties of the female characgentleman, and could not be allowed to want the ter.  From  the tenor of the correspondence
most essential part of the character, the deporlmerit now before us, however, we are more inclinof a man of honour, courage, and spirit. An rd. it, ed to believe, with Dr. Johnson, that this parorder to exhibit his spirit andcourage, it was neces-  tiality was owing to his love of continual
sary to bring them into action by adventures andg to his love of  continu
rencounters. His first appearance is in the rescue superorty and that he preferred the converof Miss Byron, a meritorious action, but one which sation of ladies, because they were more
must necessarily expose him to a challenge. How  lavish of their admiration, and more easily enmust the author untie this knot? He makes him  gaged to descant on the perplexities of Sir
so vely good a swordsman, that he is always capa- Charles, or the distresses of Clarissa.  His
ble of disarmling his adversary without endangering close application to      d the sedeneither of their lives. But are a man's principles close application toeuslness, and the sedento depend on the science of his fencing-master  tary habits of a literary life, had materially
Every one cannot have the skill of Sir Charles, injured his health: He loved to complain, as
every one can.mot be the best swordsman; and the most invalids do who have any hope of I:,eing




CORRESPONDENCE OF SAMUEL RICHARDSON.                             12r
nstened to, and scarcely writes a letter with- in question, will be at no loss to e.omprehend
out some notice uf his nervous tremors, his the reasons of the unqualified reprehension
giddiness and catchings.  "I had originally we are inclined to bestow on their publicaa good constitution," he says, in one place, tion. For the information of those who have
" and hurt it by no intemperance, but that of not had an opportunity of seeing them, we
application."                              may observe that, so far from containing any
In presenting our readers with this imper- view of the literature, the politics, or manners
feet summary of Mrs. Barbauld's biographical of the times-any anecdotes of the eminent
dissertation. we have discharged by far the and extraordinary personages to whom trie
most pleasing part of our task; and proceed author had access-or any pieces of elegant
to the consideration of the correspondence composition, refined criticism, or interesting
which it introduces, with considerable heavi- narrative, they consist almost entirely cf comness of spirit, and the most unfeigned reluct- plirnents and minute criticisms on his novels,
ance. The letters are certainly authentic; a detail of his ailments and domestic conand they were bought, we have no doubt, for cerns, and some tedious prattling disputations
a fair price from  the legal proprietors: but with his female correspondents, upon the
their publication, we think, was both im- duties of wives and children; the whole so
proper and injudicious, as it can only tend to loaded with gross and reciprocal flattery, as
lower a very respectable character. without to be ridiculous at the outset, and disgusting
communicating any gratification or instruction in the repetition. Compliments and the novels
to others. We are told, indeed, in the pre- form indeed the staples of the whole corresface " that it was the employment of Mr. pondence: we meet with the divine Clarissa,
Richardson's declining years, to select and and the more divine Sir Charles, in every
arrange the collection from which this publi- page, and are absolutely stunned with the
cation has been made; and that he always clamorous raptures and  supplications with
looked forward to their publication at some which the female train demand the converdistant period " nay, " that he was not with- sion of Lovelace. and the death or restoration
out thoughts of publishing them  in his life- of Clementina.  Even when the charming
time; and that, after his death, they remain- books are not the direct subject of the corresed in the hands of his last surviving daughter, pondence, they appear in eternal allusions,
upon whose decease they became the property and settle most of the arguments by an auof his grandchildren, and were purchased thoritative quotation. In short, the Clarissa
from them at a very liberal price by Mr. Phil- and Grandison are the scriptures of this conlips."  We have no doubt that what Mrs. gregation; and the members of it stick as
Barbauld has here stated to the public, was close to their language upon all occasions, as
stated to her by her employers: But we can- any of our sectaries ever did to that of the
not read any one volume of the letters, with- Bible. The praises and compliments, again,
out being satisfied that the idea of such a which are interchanged among allthe parties,
publication could only come into the mind of are so extremely hyperbolical as to be ludiRichardson, after his judgment was impaired crous, and so incessant as to be excessively
by the infirmities of "declining years;" and fatiguing. We shall trouble our readers with
we have observed some passages in those but a very few specimens.
which are now published, that seem tc prove   The first series of letters is from Aaron Hill,
sufficiently his own consciousness of the im- a poet of some notoriety, it seems, in his day;
propriety of such an exposure, and the ab- but, if we may judge from these epistles, a
sence of any idea of giving them to the world. very bad composer in prose. The only amusIn the year 1755, when nine-tenths of the ing things we have met with in this volume
whole collection must have been completed, of his inditing, are his prediction of his own
we find him expressing himself in these words great fame, and the speedy downfal of Pope's;
to his friend Mr. Edwards:                 and his scheme for making English wine of a
"I am employing myself at present in looking superior quality to any that can be imported.
over and sorting and classing my correspondences Of Pope he says, that he died "in the wane
and other papers. This, when done, will amuse of his popularity; and that it arose originally
me, by reading over again a very ample corres- only from meditated little personal assiduities
pondence, and in comparing the sentiments of my and a certain bladdery swell of management.'
correspondents, at the time, with the present, and And a little afterimproving from both. The many letters and papers
I shall destroy will make an executor's work the   "But rest his memory in peace! It will very
easier; and if any of my friends desire their letters rarely be disturbed by that time he himself is ashes.
to be returned, they will be readily come at for that It is pleasant to observe the justice offorced fame;
purpose. Otherwise they will amuse and direct she lets down those, at once, who got themselves
my children, and teach them to honour their father's pushed upward; and lifts none above the fear of
friends in their closets for the favours done him."  falling. but a few who never teased her.
Vol. iii. pp. 113, 114.  " What she intends to do with me, the Lord
Accordingly, they remained in the closet knows!"-Vol.i.. 107.
till the death of the last of his children; and   In another place he adds, "For my part, I
then the whole collection is purchased by a am afraid to be popular; I see so many who
bookseller, and put into the hands of an write to the living, and deserve not to live,
editor, who finds it expedient to suppress two- that I content myself with a resurrection
thirds of it!                             when dead:"  And after lamenting the un.
These who have looked into the volumes popularity of some of his writings, he says




126                        LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
"But there will arise a time in which they  no sort of relation to Richardson or his writ.
will be seen in a far different light.  I know  ings), and sets off in this manner:
it on a surer hope thtan that of vanity."  The    "Thou frolicsome farce of fortune! What! Is
wine project, which is detailed in manypages,  there another act of you to come then? I was
requires no notice.  As a specimen of the  afraid, some time ago, you had made your last exit.
adulation with which Richardson was in- Well! but without wit or compliment, I am glad
censed by all his correspondents, we may  to hear you are so tolerably alive," &c.
add the following sentences.                     We can scarcely conceive that this pitiful
" Where will your wonders end? or how could slang could appear to Mrs. Barbauld like the
I be able to express the joy it gives me to discern pleasantry of a man of fashion.  His letters
your genius rising with the grace and boldness of a to Richardson are, if any thing, rather more
pillar! &c. Go on, dear sir (I see you will and  despicable. After readi
must), to charm and captivate the world, and force
a scribbling race to learn and practise one rare sheets of Sir Charles, he writes,
virtue-to be pleased with what disgraces them."    " Z-  ds! I have not patience, till I know what
-" There is a manner (so beyond the matter, ex- has become of her. Why, you-I do not know
traordtnary too as that is) in whatever you say or what to call you!-Ah! ah! you may laugh if you
do, that makes it an impossibility to speak those please: but how will you be able to look me in the
sentiments which it is equally impossible not to  lace, if the lady should ever be able to show hers
conceive in reverence and affection for your good- again? What piteous, d-d, disgraceful pickle
ness."                                        have you plunged her in? For God's sake send
In allusion to the promise of Sir Charles,me the sequel; or-I dont know what to say!he says-                                         The following is an entire letter:
" I am greatly pleased at the hint you gave of a   "The delicious meal I made of Miss Byron on
design to raise another Alps upon this Appenine: Sunday last has given me an appetite for another
we can never see too many of his works who has slice of her, off from the spit, before she is served
no equal in his labours."                     up to the public table. If about five o'clock to.
These passages, we believe, will satisfy  morrow afternoon will not be inconvenient, Mrs.
most readers; but those who have any desire  Brown and I will come and piddle upon a bit more
of her: but pray let your whole family, with Mrs.
to see more, may turn up any page in the Richardson at the head of them, come in for their
volume: It may be of some use, perhaps, as share. This, sir, will make me more and more
a great commonplace for the materials of yours," &c.
" soft dedication."
* soft dedic ati. "             After these polite effusions, we have a corThe next series of letters is from  Miss respondence with Mr. Edwards, the author
Fielding, who wrote David Simple, and  Miss of the Canons of Criticism, a good deal of
Collier, who assisted in writing  The Cry. which is occupied as usual with flattery and
What modern reader knows any thing about mutual compliments and the rest with conthe Cry, or David Simple? And if the elabo- sultations about their different publications.
rate performances of these ladies have not Richardson exclaims, T0 that you could rebeen thought worthy of public remembrance, solve to publish your pieces in two pretty
what likelihood is there that their private and  volumes!"  And Mr. Edwards sends him
confidential letters should be entitled to any long epistles in exaltation of Sir Charles and
notice2   They contain nothing, indeed, that Clarissa.  It is in this correspondence that
can be interesting to any description of read- ve meet with the first symptom of that most
ers; and only prove that Richardson was in- absurd and illiberal prejudice which Richarddulgent and charitable to them, and that their son indulged against all the writings of Fieldgratitude was a little too apt to degenerate  ing. Hewrites to Mr. Edwardsinto flattery.
The letters of Mrs. Pilkington and of Colley    " Mr. Fielding has met with the disapprobation,
you foresaw he would meet with, of his Amelia.
ibber appear to us to be still less worthy of He is, in every paper he publishes under the title
publication.  The former seems tohave been  of the Common Garden, contributing to his own
a profligate, silly actress. reduced to beggary  overthrow. He has been overmatched in his own
in her old age. and distressed by the miscon- way, by people whom he had despised, and whom
duct of her ill-educated children.  The com- he thought he had vogue enough, from the success
passionate heart of Richardson led him  to his spurious brat Tom Jones so unaccountably met
pity and relieve her;: and she repays him  with, to write down, but who have turned his own
pit y a     n     d relieve her; and she repays him  artillery against him, and beat him out of the field,
with paltry adulation, interlarded, in the bom- and made him even poorly in his Court of Criticism
bastic style of the green room, with dramatic give up his Amelia, and promise to write no more
misquotations misapplied.  Of the letters of on the like subjects."-Vol. iii. pp. 33-34.
Cibber, Mrs. B. says that "they show  in    This, however, is but a small specimen of
every line the man of wit and the man of the his antipathy.  He says to his French transworld."  We are sorry to dissent from so re- lator, "-Tom Jones is a dissolute book. Its run
spectable an opinion; but the letters appear is over, even with us. - Is it true that France
to us in.every respect contemptible and dis- had virtue enough to refuse to license such a
gusting; without one spark of wit or genius profligate performance.' But the worst of
of any sort, and bearing all the traces of all is the followingvanity, impudence, affectation. and superannuated debauchery which might have been    " I have not been able to read any more than the
expected from  the author.   His first epistle first volume of Amelia. Poor Fielding! I could
expected from  the author. His first epistle not help telling his sister, that I was equally sur.
is to Mrs. Pilkington (for the editor has more  prised at, and concerned for, his continued lowness
than once favoured us with letters that have  Had your brother, said I, been born in a stable, or




CORRESPONDENCE OF SAMUEL RICHARDSON.                                  12'
Deen a runner at a sponging house, we should have happy as I am in love, so happy am I in friendship,
thought him a genius, and wished he had had the in my mother, two elder sisters, and five othei
advantage of a liberal education, and of being ad- women. How rich I amn!"-Vol. iii. pp. 146-149.
mitted into good company; but it is beyond my
conception, that a man of lamily, and who had    One of the best letters is dated from Tun,
some learning, and who really is a writer, should  bridge in 1751. We shallventure on an extract.
descend so excessively low in all his pieces. Who    "But here, to change the scene, to see Mr. Walsh
can care for any of his people?  A  person of at eighty (Mr. Cibber calls him papa), and Mr.
honour asked me, the other day, what he could  Cibber at seventy-seven, hunting after new faces;
mean, by saying, in his Covent Garden Journal, and thinking themselves happy if they can obtain
that he had followed Homer and Virgil in his the notice and familiarity of a fine woman!-How
Amelia? I answered, that he was justified in say- ridiculous!ing so, because he must mean Cotton's Virgil Tra-   "Mr. Cibber was over head and ears in love with
vestied, where the women are drabs, and the men  Miss Chudleigh. Her admirers (such was his hapscoundrels."-Vol. vi. pp. 154, 155.            piness!) were not jealous of him; but, pleased with
It is lamentable that such thwins should  that wit in him which they had not, were always
for calling him to her. She said pretty things-fobr
have been written confidentially; it was sure- she was Miss Chudleigh.  He said pretty things-f
ly unnecessary to make them public.            for he was Mr. Cibber; and all the company,Then
After the dismissal of Mr. Edwards, we  and women, seemed to think they had an interest
meet with two or three very beautiful and  in what was said, and were half as well pleased as
interesting letters from  Mrs. Klopstock, the if they had said the sprightly things themselves
and mighty well contented were they to be secondfirst wife of the celebrated German poet. hand repeaters of the pretty things. But once I
They have pleased us infinitely beyond any faced the laureate squatted upon one of the benches,
thing else in the collection; but how far they  with a face more wrinkled than ordinary with disare indebted for the charm we have found in  appointment.' I thought,' said I,'you were of the
them to the lisping innocence of the broken  party at the tea treats-Miss Chudleigh is gone into
English in which they are written, or to their the tea-room.'-' Pshaw!' said he,'there is no
meglerit, c       to detheir- coming at her, she is so surrounded by the toupets.'
intrinsic merit, we cannot pretend to deter — And I left him upon the fret —But he was called
mine. We insert the following account of  to soon after; and in he flew, and his face shone
her courtship and marriage.                    again, and looked smooth.
"Another extraordinary old man we have had
"After having seen him two hours, I was obliged Another extraordinary old man we have had
to pass the evenin  in acompany, whcnever had here, but of a very different turn; the noted Mr.
coud so wearisome                  o asacompanY,, w hi ston, showing eclipses, and explaining other
been so weaIsome to me. I could not speak, I phenomena of the stars, and preaching the millencould not play; I thought I saw nothing but Klop- nium and anabapism  (fr he is now, it seems, of
stock. I saw him the next day, and the following, that persuasion) to gay people, who, if they have
and we were very seriously friends. But the fourth
day he departed. It was an strong hour the hour white teeth, hear him with open mouths, though
day his departured. t! He wrotas an strong hour the hour perhaps shut hearts; and after his lecture is over,
tof hi departure r He wrote soon after, and from  not a bit the wiser, run from him the more eagerly
that time our correspondence began to be a very  to C-r and W-sh, and to flutter among the louddiligent one. I sincerely believed my love to be laughing young fellows upon the walks, like boys
friendship. I spoke with my friends of nothing  and girls at a breaking up."-Vol. iii. p. 316-319.
but Klopstock, and showed his letters.  They
raillied at me, and said I was in love. I raillied    As Richardson was in the habit of flattering
them again, and said that they must have a very his female correspondents, by asking their
friendshipless heart, if they had no idea of friend- advicethough he never followed it)as to the
ship to a man as well as to a woman. Thus ithe 
continued eight months, in which time my friends                      he prevailed on a cer
found as much love in Klopstock's lettersas in me. tain Lady Echlin  to communicate a new
I perceived it likewise, but I would not believe it. catastrophe which she had devised for his
At the last Klopstock said plainly that he loved; Clarissa.  She had reformed Lovelace, by
and 1 startled as for a wrong thing. I answered, means of a Dr. Christian and made him die
that it was no love, but friendship, as it was what I of remore
felt for him; we had not seen one another enough, hough the last outrage is not
to love (as if love must have more time than friend- supposed to be committed.  How  far Lady
ship!) This was sincerely my meaning, and I had Echlin's epistles are likely to meet with
this meaning till Klopstock came again to Ham- readers, in this fastidious age, may be sonburg. This he did a year after we had seen one jectured, from the following specimen.
another the first time. We saw, we were friends.   "I heartily wish every Christain would read and
we Toved; and we believed that we loved: and, a
short time after, I could even tell Klopstock that I wisely consider Mr. Skelton's fine and pious lesloved. But we were obliged to part again, atd sons. I admire the warmth of this learned gentle.
wait two years for our wedtoding.   My mother adman's zeal; it is laudable and necessary,'especially
would nolt   e mc marry a strawnger. I could marre  in an age like this, which, for its coldness (he obthen without her consentment, as by the death of serves) may be called the winter of Christianity.'
my father my fortune depended not on her but A melancholy truth, elegantly expressed! I have
this was an horrible idea for me;  and thank Hea- only perused a small part of this divine piece, and
ven that I have prevailed by prayers! At this am  greatly delighted with what I have read.
-time knowing Klopstock, she loves him  as her Surely he is a heavenly man. I am also very fond
lifely son, and thanks God that she has not per- of Dr. Clark: and excellent good Seed! I thank
sisted.  We married, and I am the happiest wife you, sir, for introducing another wise charmer, not
in the world. In some few months it will be four less worthy of every body's regard. He meritsattenvears that I am  so happy, and still I dote upon  tion, and religiously commands it."-Vol. v. p. 40.
klopstock as if he was my bridegroom.            Next come several letters from  the Rever"If you knew  my husband, you would not end Mr. Skelton, mostly on the subject of the
wonder. If you knew his poem, I could describe Dublin piracy, and the publication of some
him very briefly, in saying he is in all respects what w   i
he is as a poet. This I can say with all wifely mo-works of his  own. He seems to have been a
desty...... But I dare not to speak of my hus- man of strong, coarse sense, but extremely
band  I am all raptures when I do it. And as irritable.  Some delay in the publication of




128                        LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
his sermons draws from  him  the following art Richardson is undoubtedly without an
amusing piece of fretfulness.                 equal, and, if we except De Foe, without a
"Johnston kept them a month on the way; competitor, we believe, in the whole history
Wilson kept them three, and does nothing, only of literature.  We are often fatigued, as we
hints a sorf of contemptuous censure of them to you, listen to his prolix descriptions, and the repetiand huffs them out of his hands. The booksellers tions of those rambling and inconclusive condespise them, and I am forced to print them, when versations, in which so many pages are conthe season for sale is over, or burn them. God's sumed, without any apparent progress in the
will be done! If I had wrote against my Saviour, story; but, by means of all this, we get so
or his religion, my work would long ago have been
bought, and reprinted, and bought again. Millar intimately acquainted with the characters,
would have now been far advanced in his third and so impressed with a persuasion of their
edition of it! But why do I make these weak cor- reality, that when any thing really disastrous
plaints? I know my work is calculated to serve or important occurs to them, we feel as for old
the cause of God and truth, and by no means con- friends and companions, and are irresistibly
temptibly executed. I am confident also, I shall, led to as lively a conception of their sensaif God spares me life to give it the necessary intro- 
ductrn, sell it to advantage, and receive the thanks tions, as if we had been spectators of a real
of every good man for it. I will therefore be in the transaction. This we certainly think the chief
hands of God, and not of Mr. Millar, whose indif- merit of Richardson's productions: For. great
ference to my performances invite me not to any as his knowledge of the human heart, and his
overtures.''-Vol. v. p. 234, 235.             powers of pathetic description, must be adAlthough Richardson is not responsible for mitted to be, we are of opinion that he might
more than one fifth part of the dulness ex- have been equalled in those particulars by
hibited in this collection, still the share of it many, whose productions are infinitely less
that may be justly imputed to him is so con- interesting.
siderable, and the whole is so closely asso-   That his pieces were all intended to be
ciated with his name, that it would be a sort strictly moral, is indisputable; but it is not
of injustice to take our final leave of his works, quite so clear, that they will uniformly be
without casting one glance back to those orig- found  to  have this tendency.  We have
inal and  meritorious  performances, upon already quoted some observations of iMrs.
which his reputation is so firmly established. Barbauld's on this subject, and shall only add,
The great excellence of Richardson's novels in general, that there is a certain air of irkconsists, we think, in the unparalleled minute- some regularity, gloominess, and pedantry,
ness and copiousness of his descriptions, and attached to most of his virtuous characters,
in the pains he takes to make us thoroughly  which is apt to encourage more unfortunate
and intimately acquainted with every particu- associations than the engaging qualities with
lar in the character and situation of the per- which he has invested some of his vicious
sonages with whom we are occupied.  It has ones. The mansion of the Harlowes, which,
been the policy of other writers to avoid all before the appearance of Lovelace, is repredetails that are not necessary or impressive, to sented as the abode of domestic felicity, is a
hurry over all the preparatory scenes, and to place in which daylight can scarcely be supreserve the whole of the reader's attention for posed to shine; and Clarissa, with her formal
those momentous passages in which some de- devotions, her intolerably early rising, her
cisive measure  is adopted, or some great day divided into tasks, and her quantities of
passion brought into action. The consequence needle-work and discretion, has something in
is, that we are only acquainted with their her much less winning and attractive than incharacters in their dress of ceremony, and  ferior artists have often communicated to an
that. as we never see them  except in those innocent beauty of seventeen.  The solemcritical circumstances, and those moments of nity and moral discourses of Sir Charles, his
strong emotion, which are but of rare occur- bows, minuets, compliments, and immoveable
rence in real life, we are never deceived into  tranquillity, are much more likely to excite
any belief of their reality, and contemplate the derision than the admiration of a modem
the whole as an exaggerated and dazzling reader. Richardson's good people, in short,
illusion. With such authors we merely make are too wise and too formal, ever to appeal in
a visit by appointment, and see and hear only the light of desirable companions, or to excite
what we know has been prepared for our re- in a youthful mind any wish to resemble
ception.  With Richardson, we slip, invisible, them.  The gaiety of all his characters, too,
into the domestic privacy of his characters, is extremely girlish and silly and is much
and hear and see every thing that is said and more like the prattle of spoiled children, than
done among them, whether it be interesting the wit and pleasantry of persons acquainted
or otherwise, and whether it gratify our curi- with the world.  The diction throughout is
osity or disappoint it.  We sympathise with heavy, vulgar, and embarrassed; though the
the former, therefore, only as we sympathise interest of the tragical scenes is too powerful
with the monarchs and statesmen of history, to allow us to attend to any inferior consideraof whose condition as individuals we have but tion. The novels of Richardson, in short,
a very imperfect conception. We feel for the though praised  perhaps somewhat beyond
latter, as for our private friends and acquaint- their merits, will always be read with adance  with whose whole situation we are miration; and certainly can never appear to
familiar, and as to whom  we can conceive greater advantage than when contrasted with
exactly the effects that will be produced by the melancholy farrago which is here entitled
every thing that may befal them.  Tn th:s his Correspondence.




BARON DE GRIMM.                                129
Correspondance, Littiraire, Philosophique et Critique. Addressee a un Souverain d'&llemagne,
depuis 1770 jusqu'a 1782. Par le BARON DE GRIMM} et par DIDEROT. 5 tomes, 8vo.
pp. 2250. Paris: 1812.
Tnus is certainly a very entertaining book upon his sitting down one evening in a seat
-though a little too bulky-and, the greater which he had previously fiied upon for himpart of it, not very important. We are glad self; but with Voltaire and D'Alembert, and
to see it, however; not only because we are all the rest of that illustrious society, both
glad to see any thing entertaining, but also male and female, he continued always on the
because it makes us acquainted with a per- most cordial footing; and, while he is reson, of whom every one has heard a great proached with a certain degree of obsequiousdeal, and most people hitherto known very ness toward the rich and powerful, must be
little. There is no name which comes oftener allowed to have used less flattery toward hlis
across us, in the modern history of French literary associates than was usual in the inliterature than that of Grimm; and none, tercourse of those jealous and artificial beings.
perhaps, whose right to so much notoriety   When the Duke of Saxe-Gotha left Paris,
seemed to most people to stand upon such Grimm undertook to send him regularly an
scanty titles. Coming from a foreign country, account of every thing remarkable that ocwithout rank, fortune, or exploits of any kind cured in the literary, political, and scandalous
to recommend him, he contrived, one does not chronicle of that great city; and acquitted
very well see how, to make himself conspicu- himself in this delicate office so much to the
ous for forty years in the best company of satisfaction of his noble correspondent, that
Paris; and at the same time to acquire great he nominated him, in 1776, his resident at
influence and authority among literary men the court of France, and raised him at the
of all descriptions, without publishing any same time to the rank and dignity of a Baron.
thing himself, but a few slight observations The volumes before us are a part of the desupon French and Italian music.           patches of this literary plenipotentiary; and
The volumes before us help, in part, to ex- are certainly the most amusing state papers
plain this enigma; and not only give proof of that have ever fallen under our obversation.
talents and accomplishments quite sufficient   The Baron de Grimm continued to exercise
to justify the reputation the author enjoyed the functions of this philosophical diplomacy,
among his contemporaries, but also of such a till the gathering storm  of the Revolution
degree of industry and exertion, as entitle drove both ministers and philosophers from
him, we think, to a reasonably reversion of the territories of the new Republic. He then
fame from posterity.  Before laying before took refuge of course in the court of his masour readers any part of this miscellaneous ter, where he resided till 1795; when Cathachronicle, we shall endeavour to give them a rine of Russia, to whose shrine he had forgeneral idea of its construction-and to tell merly made a pilgrimage from Paris, gave
them all that we have been able to discover him the appointment of her minister at the
about its author.                        court of Saxony —which he continued to hold
Melchior Grimm was born at Ratisbon in till the end of the reign of the unfortunate
1723, of very humble parentage; but, being Paul, when the partial loss of sight obliged
tolerably well educated, took to literature at'him to withdraw  altogether from business,
a very early period. His first essays were and to return to the court of Saxe-Gotha,
made in his own country-and, as we under- where he continued his studies in literature
stand, in his native language —where he com- and the arts with unabated ardour, till he
posed several tragedies, which were hissed sunk at last under a load of years and infirmiupon the stage, and unmercifully abused in ties in the end of 1807. —He was of an unthe closet, by Lessing, and the other oracles comely and grotesque appearance-with huge
of Teutonic criticism. He then came to Paris, projecting eyes and discordant features which
as a sort of tutor to the children of M. de he rendered still more hideous, by daubing
Schomberg, and was employed in the humble them profusely with white and with red paint
capacity of reader to the Duke of Saxe-Gotha, — according to the most approved costume of
when he was first brought into notice by petits-maitres, in the year 1748, when he
Rousseau, who was smitten with his enthusi- made his debit at Paris.
asm  for music and made him  known to   The book embraces a period of about twelve
Diderot, the Baron d'Holbach, and various years only, from 1770 to 1782, with a gap for
other persons of eminence in the literary 1775'and part of 1776. It is said in the titleworld. His vivacity and various accomplish- page to be partly the work of Grimm, and.
ments soon made him generally acceptable; partly that of Diderot,-but the contributions
while his uniform  prudence and excellent of the latter are few, and comparatively of
good sense prevented him from ever losing little importanet. It is written half in the
any of the friends he had gained. Rousseau, style of a journal intended for the public, and;
indeed, chose to quarrel with him for life, half in that of private and confidential cob
9




130                    LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
respondence; and, notwithstanding the re- out the shortest and most pleasant way to a,
trenchments which the editor boasts of having truths to which a short and a pleasant way
made in the manuscript, contains a vast mis- can readily be discovered; and then lay it
cellany of all sorts of intelligence;-critiques down as a maxim, that no others are worth
upon all new publications, new operas, and looking after-and in the same way, they do
new performers at the theatres; —accounts such petty kindnesses, and indulge such light
of all the meetings and elections at the acade- sympathies, as do not put them to any trouble,
mies, —and of the deaths and characters of all or encroach at all on their amusemens) -
the eminent persons who demised in the while they make it a principle to wrap themperiod to which it extends;-copies of the selves up ill those amusements from the asepigrams, and editions of the scandalous sto- sault of all more engrossing or importunate
ries that occupied the idle population of Paris affections.
during the same period-interspersed with   The turn for derision again arises naturally
various original compositions, and brief and out of this order of things. When passion
pithy dissertations upon the general subjects and enthusiasm, affection and serious occupathat are suggested by such an enumeration. tion have once been banished by a short-sightOf these, the accounts of the operas and the ed voluptuousness, the sense of ridicule is
actors are (now) the most tedious,-the criti- almost the only lively sensation that remains;
cal and biographical sketches the most live- -and the envied life of those who have
ly, —and the general observations the most nothing to do but to enjoy themselves; would
striking and important. The whole, however, be utterly listless and without interest, if they
is given with great vivacity and talent, and were not allowed to laugh at each other.
with a degree of freedom which trespasses Their quickness in perceiving ordinary follies
occasionally upon the borders both of pro- and illusions too, affords great encouragement
priety and of good taste.                to this laudable practice;-and as none of
There is nothing indeed more exactly paint- them have so much passion or enthusiasm
ed in these graphical volumes, than the char- left, as to be deeply wounded by the shafts
acter of M. Grimm himself;-and the beauty of derision, they fall lightly, and without
of it is, that as there is nothing either natural rankling, on the lesser vanities, which supply
or peculiar about it, it may stand for the char- in them those master springs of human action
acter of most of the wits and philosophers and feeling.
he frequented. He had more wit, perhaps,   The whole style and tone of this publicaand more sound sense and information, than tion affords the most striking illustration of
the greater part of the society in which he these general remarks. From one end of it
lived-But the leading traits belong to the to the other, it is a display of the most comwhole class, and to all classes indeed, in plete heartlessness, and the most uninterruptsimilar situations, in every part of the world. ed levity. It chronicles the deaths of half the
Whenever there is a very large assemblage author's acquaintance-and makes jests upon
of persons who have no other occupation but them all; and is much more serious in disto amuse themselves, there will infallibly be cussing the Werits of an opera dancer, than
generated acuteness of intellect, refinement in considering the evidence for the being of a
of manners, and good taste in conversation; — God, or the first foundations of morality.
and, with the same certainty, all profound Nothing, indeed, can be more just or concluthought, and all serious affection, will be sive, than the remark that is forced from M.
generally discarded from their society. The Grimm himself, upon the utter carelessness
multitude of persons and things that force and instant oblivion, that followed the death
themselves on the attention in such a scene, of one of the most distinguished, active, and
and the rapidity with which they succeed amiable members of his coterie; — tant il
each other and pass away, prevent any one, est vrai que ce qui nous appellons la Societ,
from making a deep or permanent impression; est ce quail y a de plus leger, de plus ingrat,
and the mind, having never been tasked to et de plus frivole au monde!"
any course of application, and long habituated   Holding this opinion very firmly ourselves,
to this lively succession and variety of objects, it will easily be believed that we are very far
comes at last to require the excitement of from envying the brilliant persons who comperpetual change, and to find a multiplicity posed, or gave the tone to this exquisite soof friends as indispensable as a multiplicity ciety;-and while we have a due admiration
of amusements. Thus the characteristics of for the elegant pleasantry, correct taste, and
large and polished society, come almost in- gay acuteness, of which they furnish, perhaps,
evitably to be, wit and heartlessness-acute- the only perfect models, we think it more deness and perpetual derision. The same im- sirable on the whole to be the spectators,
patience of uniformity, and passion for va- than the possessors of those accomplishments;
riety, which gives so much grace to their and would no more wish to buy them at the
conversation, by excluding tediousness and price of our sober thinking, and settled affec-,pertinacious wrangling, make them incapable tions than we would buy the dexterity of a
of dwelling for many minutes on the feelings fiddler, or a ropedancer, at the price of our
and concerns of any one individual; while personal respectability. Even in the days of
the constant pursuit of little gratifications, and youth and high spirits, there is no solid enjoy
the weak dread of all uneasy sensations, ment in living altogether with people who.render them equally averse from serious sym- care nothing about us; and when we begin to
pathy and deep thought. They speedily find grow old and unamuseable, there can be




BARON DE GRIMM.                                 131
nothing so comfortless as to be surrounded    M. Grimm, however, reveals worse infirmi.
with those who think of nothing but amuse- ties than this in his great preceptor. There
ment. The spectacle, however. is gay and was a young Mademoiselle Raucour, it seems,
beautiful to those who look upon it with a who, though an actress, enjoyed an unblemgood-natured sympathy, or indulgence; and ished reputation. Voltaire who had never
naturally suggests reflections that may be in- seen her, chose one morning to write to the
teresting to the most serious. A judicious Marechal de Richelieu, by whom  she was
extractor, we have no doubt, might accom- patronized, that she was a notorious prostimodate both classes of readers, from  the tute, and ready to be taken into keeping by
ample magazine that lies before us.       any one who would offer for her. This imThe most figuring person in the work, and putation having been thoughtlessly communiindeed of the age to which it belongs, was cated to the damsel herself, produced no little
beyond all question Voltatre,-of whom, and commotion; and upon Voltaire's being re.
of whose character, it presents us with many monstrated with, he immediately retracted
very amusing traits. He receives no other the whole story, which it seems was a piece
name throughout the book, than "The Patri- of pure invention; and confessed, that the
arch" of the Holy Philosophical Church, of only thing he had to object to Madlle. Raucour
which the authors, and the greater part of was, that he had understood they had put off
heir friends, profess to be humble votaries the representation of a new play of his, in orand disciples. The infallibility of its chief, der to gratify the public with her appearance
however, seems to have formed no part of the in comedy; — and this was enough," says
creed of this reformed religion; for, with all M. Grimm, "to irritate a child of seventyhis admiration for the wit, and playfulness. nine, against another child of seventeen, who
and talent of the philosophic pontiff, nothing came in the way of his gratification!"
can exceed the freedoms in which M. Grimm    A little after, he tells another story which
indulges, both as to his productions, and his is not only very disreputable to the Patriarch,
character. All his poetry, he says, after Tan- but affords a striking example of the monstrous
cred, is clearly marked with the symptoms evils that arise from religious intolerance, in
of approaching dotage and decay; and his a country where the whole population is not
views of many important subjects he treats of the same communion. A Mons. de B. inas altogether erroneous, shallow, and con- troduced himself into a protestant family at
temptible. He is particularly offended with Montauban, and after some time, publicly
him for not adopting the decided atheism of married the only daughter of the house, in the
the Systemre de la Nature, and for weakly stop- church of her pastor. He lived several years
ping short at a kind of paltry deism. "The with her, and had one daughter-dissipated
Patriarch," says he, " still sticks to his Re- her whole property-and at last deserted her,
munerateur-Vengeur, without whom he fancies and married another woman at Paris-upon
the world would go on very ill. He is reso- the pretence that his first union was not bindlute enough, I confess, for putting down the ing, the ceremony not having been performed
god of knaves and bigots, but is not for part- by a Catholic priest. The Parliament ultiing with that of the virtuous and rational. He mately allowed this plea; and farther directreasons upon all this, too, like a baby-a very ed, that the daughter should be taken from its
smart baby it must be owned-but a baby mother, and educated in the true faith in a
notwithstanding. He would be a little puz- convent. The transaction excited general in.
zled, I take it, if he were asked what was dignation; and the legality of the sentence,
the colour of his god of the virtuous and wise, and especially the last part of it, was very
&c. &c. He cannot conceive, he says, how  much disputed, both in the profession and out
mere motion,undirected by intelligence,should of it;-when Voltaire, to the astonishment of
ever have produced such a world as we in- all the world, thought fit to put forth a pamhabit-and we verily believe him. Nobody phlet in its defence! M. Grimm treats the
can conceive it-but it is afact nevertheless; whole'matter with his usual coldness and
and we see it-which is nearly as good." pleasantry; —and as a sort of apology for this
We give this merely as a specimen of the extraordinary proceeding of his chief, very
disciple's irreverence towards his master; for coolly observes, "The truth is, that for some
nothing can be more contemptible than the time past, the Patriarch has been suspected,
reasoning of M. Grimm in support of his own and indeed convicted, of the most abominable
desolating opinions. He is more near being cowardice. He defied the old Parliament in
right, where he makes himself merry with his youth with signal courage and intrepidity;
the Patriarch's ignorance of natural philoso- and now he cringes to the new one, and even
phy. Every Achilles however, he adds, has condescends to be its panegyrist, from an aba vulnerable heel-and that of the hero of surd dread of being persecuted by it on the
Ferney is his Physics.*                   very brink of the tomb. "IAh! Seigneur Pat* This is only true, however, with regard to nat- is so unmercifully rated by M. Grimnm. We do
ural history and chemistry; for as to the nobler not know many quartains in French poetry more
part of physics, which depends on science, his at- beautiful than the following, which the Patriarch
tainments were equal perhaps to those of any of indited impromptu, one fine summer eveninghis age and country, with the exception of D'Alembert. Even his astronomy, however though by    "Tous ces vastes pays d'Azur et de Lumiere,
Even his astronomy, however, thouh by    Tires du sein du vide, et.form6s sans matiere,
no means "mince et raccourtie," had a tendency    Arrondis sans compas, et tournans sans pivot,
to confirm him'in that paltry Deism, for which he    Ont a peine coutd la depense d'un mot 1"




132                     LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY
riarche!" he concludes) in the true Parisian He promised every night, indeed, to give him
accent, " Horace was much more excusable for a long sitting next day, and always kept his
flattering Augustus, who had honoured him, word; —but then, he could no more sit still,
though he destroyed the republic, than you than a child of three years old. He dictated
are, for justifying, without any intelligible mo- letters all the time to his secretary: and, in
tive, a proceeding so utterly detestable, and the mean time, kept blowing peas in the airs
upon which, if you had not courage to speak making pirouettes round his chamber, or inas became you, you were not called upon to dulging in other feats of activity, equally fatal
say any thing."  It must be a comfort to the to the views of the artist. Poor Phidias was
reader to learn, that immediately after this sen- about to return to Paris in despair, without
tence, a M. Vanrobais, an old and most re- having made the slightest progress in his despectable gentleman, was chivalrous enough, sign; when the conversation happening by
at the age of sevenlty to marry the deserted good luck to turn upon Aaron's golden calf;
widow, and to place her in a situation every and Pigalle having said that he did not think
way more respectable than that of which she such a thing could possibly be modelled and
had been so basely defrauded.            cast in less than six months, the Patriarch
There is a great deal, in the first of these was so pleased with him, that he submitted
volumes, about the statue that was voted to to any thing he thought proper all the rest of
Voltaire by his disciples in 1770.-Pigalle the the day, and the model was completed that
sculptor was despatched to Ferney to model very evening.
him, in spite of the opposition he affects to   There are a number of other anecdotes,
make in a letter to Madame Necker, in which extremely characteristic of the vivacity, imhe very reasonably observes, that in order to patience, and want of restraint which distinbe modelled, a man ought to have a face-  guished this extraordinary person. One of
but that age and sickness have so reduced the most amusing is that of the cong6 which
him, that it is not easy to point out where- he gave to the Abb6 Coyer, who was kind
abouts his had been; that his eyes are sunk enough to come to his castle at Ferney, with
into pits three inches deep, and the small the intention of paying a longe visit. The
remnant of his teeth recently deserted; that second morning, however, the Patriarch inhis skin is like old parchment wrinkled over terrupted him in the middle of a dull account
dry bones, and his legs and arms like dry of his travels, with this perplexing question,
spindles; —in short, " qu'on n'a jamais sculpt  " Do you know, M. L'Abb6, in what you differ
un padvre homme dans cet etat."  Phidias entirely from  Don Quixotte?"  The pooi
Pigalle, however, as he calls him, goes upon Abb6 was unable to divine the precise point
his errand, notwithstanding all these discour- of distinction; and the philosopher was pleasagements; and finds him, according to M. ed to add, "Why, you know the Don took all
Grimm, in a state of great vivacity. "He the inns on his road for castles, —but it ap.
skips up stairs,  he assures me, "more nimbly pears to me that you take some castles for
than all his subscribers put together, and is inns." The Abbe decamped without waiting
as quick as lightning in running to shut doors, for a further reckoning. He behaved still
and open windows; but, with all this, he is worse to a M. de Barthe, whom he invited to
very anxious to pass for a poor man in the come and read a play to him, and afterwards
last extremities; and would take it much drove out of the house by the yawns and
amiss if he thought that any body had dis- frightful contortions with which he amused
covered the secret of his health and vigour."' himself, during the whole of the performSome awkward person, indeed, it appears, has ance.
been complimenting him upon the occasion;   One of his happiest repartees is said to have
for he writes me as follows:- "My dear been made to an Englishman, who had refriend —though Phidias Pigalle is the most cently been on a visit to the celebrated Halvirtuous of mortals, he calumniates me cruel- ler, in whose praise Voltaire enlarged with
ly; I understand he goes about saying that I great warmth, extolling him as a great poet,
am quite well, and as sleek as a monk!-  a great naturalist, and a man of universal
Such is the ungrateful return he makes for attainments. The Englishman answered, that
the pains I took to force my spirits for his it was very handsome in M. De Voltaire to
amusement, and to puff up my buccinatory speak so well of Mr. Haller, inasmuch as-he,
muscles, in order to look well in his eyes!-  the said Mr. Haller, was by no means so
Jean Jacques, to be sure, is far more puffed liberal to M. de Voltaire. "Ah!" said the
up than I am; but it is with conceit-from  Patriarch, with an air of philosophic indulwhich I am free."  In another letter he says, gence, "I dare say we are both of us very
-" When the peasants in my village saw Pi- much mistaken."
alle laying out some of the instruments of   On another occasion, a certain M. de St.
his art, they flocked round us with great glee, Ange, who valued himself on the graceful
and said, Ah! he is going to dissect him-  turn of his compliments, having come to see
how droll!-so one spectacle you see is just him, took his leave with this studied allusion
as good for some people as another."    to the diversity of his talents, "My visit to-,The account which Pigalle himself gives day has only been to Homer-another mornof his mission, is extremely characteristic. ing I shall pay my respects to Sophocles and
For the first eight days, he could make-noth- Euripides-another to Tceitus-and another
ing of his patient,-he was so restless and to Lucian."  "Ah, Sir!' replied the Patrifull of grimaces, starts, and gesticulations. arch, "I am wretchedly old,:-could you not




BARON DE GRIMM.                                  133
contrive to see all these gentlemen together'." spectators. The whole scene, says M. Grimm
lM. Mercier, who had the same passion for reminded us of the classic days of Greece and
fine speeches, told him one day, "You outdo Rome. But it became more truly touching at
every body so much in their own way, that I the moment when its object rose to retire.
am  sure you will beat Fontenelle even, in Weakened and agitated by the emotions he
longevity."  " No, no, Sir!2 answered the had experienced, his limbs trembled beneath
Patriarch, "Fontenelle was a Norman; and. him; and, bending almost to the earth, he
you may depend upon it, contrived to trick seemed ready to expire under the weight of
Nature out of her rights.                  years and honours that had been laid upon
One of the most prolific sources of witti- him. His eyes, filled with tears, still sparkled
cisms that is noticed in this collection, is the with a peculiar fire in the midst of his pale
Patriarch's elevation to the dignity of temporal and faded countenance. All the beauty and
father of the Capuchins in his district. The all the rank of France crowded round him in
cream of the whole, however, may be found the lobbies and staircases, and literally bore
in the following letter of his to M. De Riche- him in their arms to the door of his carriage.
lieu.                                      Here the humbler multitude took their turn;
"Je voudrais bien, monseigneur, avoir le plaisir and, calling for torches that all might get a
de vous donner ma benediction avant de mourir. sight of him, clustered round his coach, and
L'expression vous paraitra un peu forte: elle est followed it to the door of his lodgings, with
pourtant dans la veritd. J'ai l'honneur d'etre ca- vehement shouts of admiration and triumph.
pucin. Notre gen6ral qui est a Rome, vient de This is-the heroic part of the scene;-but M.
m' envoyer mes patentes;, mon titre est; Frre Grimm takes care also to let us know, that the
Spirituel et Pe're Temporel des Capuciuts. Mandez-moi laquelle devos maitresses vous voulez re- Patriarch appeared on this occasion in long
tirer du purgatoire: je vous jure sur ma barbe lace ruffles) and a fine coat of cut velvet, with
qu'elle n'y sera pas dans vingtquatre heures. a grey periwig of a fashion forty years old,
Comme je dois me ddtacher des biens de ce which he used to comb every morning with
monde, j'ai abandonn  a mes parens ce qui m'est his own hands, and to which nothing at all
di par la succession de feu madame la princess e    had
de Guise, et par M. votre intendant; ils iront a parallel  been seen for agesexcept on
ce sujet prendre vos ordres qu'ils regarderont the head of Bachaumont the novelist, who
comme un bienfait. Je vous donne ma ben6dic- was known accordingly among the wits of
tion.  Signe VOLTAIRE, Capucin indigne, et qui Paris by the name of "Voltaire's wigblock."
n'a pas encore eu de bonne fortune de capucin."-    This brilliant and protracted career, how.
pp. 54, 55.                                ever, was fast drawing to a close.-Retaining
We have very full details of the last days to the last, that untameable spirit of'activity
of this distinguished person.  He came to and impatience which had characterized all
Paris, as is well known, after twenty-seven his past life, he assisted at rehearsals and
years' absence, at the age of eighty-four; meetings of the Academy, with the zeal and
and the very evening he arrived, he recited enthusiasm  of early youth. At one of the$
himself the whole of his Irene to the players, latter, some objections were started to his
and passed all the rest of the night in cor- magnificent proJect. of giving an improved
recting the piece for representation. A few  edition of their Dictionary;-and he resolved
days after, he was seized with a violent vomit- to compose a discourse to obviate those obing of blood, and instantly called stoutly for jections. To strengthen himself for this task,
a priest, saying, that they should not throw  he swallowed a prodigious quantity of strong
him out on the dunghill. A priest was ac- coffee and then continued at work for upcordingly brought; and the Patriarch very wards of twelve hours without intermission.
gravely subscribed a profession of his faith This imprudent effort brought on an inflamin the Christian religion-of which he was mation in his bladder; and being told by M.
ashamed, and attempted to make a jest, as De Richelieu, that he had been much relieved
soon as he recovered. He was received with in a similar situation, by taking. at intervals,
unexampled honours at the Academy, the a few drops of laudanum, he provided himwhole members of which rose together, and self with a large bottle of that medicine, and
came out to the vestibule to escort him into with his usual impatience, swallowed the
the hall; while, on the exterior, all the ave- greater part of it in the course of the night.
nues, windows, and roofs of houses, by which The consequence was, as might naturally
his carriage had to pass, were crowded with have been expected, that he fell into a sort
spectators, and resounded with acclamations. of lethargy, and never recovered the use of
But the great scene of his glory was the thea- his faculties, except for a few minutes at a
tre; in which he no sooner appeared, than the time, till the hour of his death, which hap.
whole audience rose up, and continued for pened three days after, on the evening of the
upwards of twenty minutes in thunders of 30th of May, 1778. The priest to whom he
applause and shouts of acclamation that filled had made his confession, and cnother, entered
the whole house with dust and agitation. his chamber a short time before he breathed
When the piece was concluded, the curtain his last. He recognized them with difficulty
was again drawn up, and discovered the bust and assured them  of his respects.  One of
of their idol in the middle of the stage, while them  coming close up to him. he threv his
the favourite actress placed a crown of laurel arm  round his neck, as if to /embrace him,
on its brows, and recited some verses, the But when M. le Cure, taking advantage of
words of which could scarcely be distin- this cordiality, proceeded to urge him to make
guished amidst the tumultuous shouts of the some sign or acknowledgment of his belief in




134                        LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
the Christian faith, he gently, pushed him  himself that all the powers of Europe had
back, and said, "Alas! let me die in peace." their eyes fixed upon him as a most dangerThe priest turned to his companion, and with ous and portentous being, whom  they should
great moderation and presence of mind, ob- take the first opportunity to destroy. He was
served aloud, "You see his faculties are quite also satisfied that M. de Choiseul had progone." They then quietly left the apartment; jcted and executed the conquest of Corsica,
-and  the dying man, having testified his for no other purpose but to deprive him of the
gratitude to his kind and vigilant attendants, honour of legislating for it; and that Prussia
and named several times the name of his and Russia had agreed to partition Poland
favourite niece Madame Denis, shortly after upon the same jealous and unworthy conexpired.                                     sideration.  While the potentates of Europe
Nothing can better mark the character of were thus busied in thwarting and mortifying
the work before us, and of its author, than to him  abroad, the philosophers, he was perstate, that the despatch which contains this suaded. were entirely devoted to the same
striking account of the last hours of his illus- project at home.  They had spies, he firmly
trious patron and friend, terminates with an believed, posted round all his steps, and were
obscene epigram  of M. Rulhiere, and a gay continually making efforts to rouse the popucritique on the new  administration of the lace to insult and murder him. At the head
opera Buffa! There are various epitaphs on of this conspiracy, of the reality of which he
Voltaire, scattered through the sequel of the no more doubted than of his existence, he
volume:-we prefer this very brief one, by a had placed the Duc de Choiseul, his physilady of Lausanne.                             cian Tronchin, M. D'Alembert, and our au"Ci-ogft l'ezfant gate du monde qu'il gata."    thor!-But we must pass to characters less
known or familiar.
Among the other proofs which M. Grimm    The gayest, and the most naturally gay
has recorded of the celebrity of this extra- perhaps of all the coterie, was the Abbe Gaordinary person, the incredible multitude of liani, a Neapolitan, who had resided for many
his portraits that were circulated, deserves to years in Paris, but had been obliged, very
be noticed. One ingenious artist, in particular, much against his will, to return to his own
of the name of Huber, had acquired such a country about the time that this journal comfacility in forming his countenance, that he menced.  M. Grimm  inserts a variety of his
could not only cut most striking likenesses letters, in all of which the infantine petulance
of himout of paper, with scissars held be- and freedom  of his character are distinctly
hind his back, but could mould a little bust marked, as well as the singular acuteness and
of him in half a minute, out of a bit of bread, clearness of his understanding.  The first is
and at last used to make his dog manufacture written immediately after his exile from Paris
most excellent profiles, by making him  bite in 1770.
cff the edge of a biscuit which he held to
him in threege or four different positionsc" Madame, je suis toujours inconsolable d'avoir
him in three or four different positions!     quitte Paris; et encore plus inconsolable de n'avoir
There is less about Rousseau in these regu aucune nouvelle ni de vous, ni du paresseux
volumes, than we should expect from  their philosophe. Est-il possible que ce monstre, dans
author's early intimacy with that great writer. son impassibilitie, ne sente pas a quel point mon
What there is, however, is candid and judi- honneur, ma gloire, dont je me fiche, mon plaisir
cious   M  Grimm  agrees with Madame de et celui de mes amis, dont je me soucie beaucoup,
sont interesses dans l'affaire que je lui ai confiee, et
Sta/l, that Rousseau was nothing of a French- combien je suis impatient d'apprendre qu'en fin la
man in his character; —and accordingly he pacotille a double le cap et pass6 le terrible d6file
observes, that though the magic of his style de la revision: car, apres cela, je serai tranquille
and the extravagance of his sentiments pro- sur le reste.
cured him some crazy disciples, he never had    " Mon voyage a ete tr's heureux sur la terre et
any hearty partisans among the enlightened  surl'onde; il a meme 6te d'un bonheurinconcevable.
any  heatypatiansamnghenigteJe n'ai jamais eu chaud, et toujours le vent en poupe
part of the nation.  He laughs a good deal at sur le Rhone et sur la mer; il para"it que tout me
is affectations and unpardonable animosi- pousse a m'eloigner de tout ce que j'aime an monde.
ties,-but gives, at all times. the highest L'heroisme sera done bien plus grand et bien plus
praise to his genius, and sets him above all memorable, de vaincre les 6l6mens, la nature, les
his contemporaries, for the warmth, the ele- dieux conspires, et de retourner a Paris en de'pit
aine               od the singular richn ess of his style'eux. Oui, Paris est ma patrie; on aura beau
gance, and the singular richness of his tyle. m'en exiler, j'y retomberai. Attendez-vous done
He says, that the general opinion at Paris was, a me voir etabli dans la rue Fromenteau, au quatrithat he had poisoned himself;-that his natu- eme, sur le derriere, chez la nommee......   fille
ral disposition to melancholy had increased in majeure. La demeurera le plus grand g6nie de
an alarming degree after his return from Eng- notre age, en pension a trente sous par jour; et it
sera heureux. Quel plaisir que de d6lirer! Adieu.
land, and had been aggravated by the sombre je vou prie d'envoyer vos lettres toujours I  l'hatel
and solitary life to which he had condemned  de l'ambassadeur.
himself;-that mind, he adds, at once too   "Grimm est-il de retour de son voyage?"
strong and too weak to bear the burden of    Another to the Baron Holbach is nearly in
existence with tranquillity, was perpetually the same tone.
prolific of monsters and of phantoms, that
haunted all his steps, and drove him to the   "Quefaites-vous, mon cher baron? Vousamusezborders of distraction.  There is no doubt, vous? La baronnese porte-t-elle bien? Comment
b svont vos enfans?  La philosophie, dont vous 8tes
contilues M. Grimm, that for many months le premier maitre d'h8tel, mange-t-elle toujours
before his death he had firmly persuaded  d'un aussi bon appetit




BARON DE GRIMM.                                         135, "Pour moi, je m'ennuie mortellement ici; je nie vous voulez. Cela lui etait d'autant plus aise, que
vois personne, excepte deux ou trois Frangais.  Je  Marius, fondateur de ce parti, etait de son pays. II
suis le Gulliver revenu du pays des Hoyinhyims, en fut meme tente, car ii d6buta par attaquer Sylla
qui ne fait plus soci6te qu'avec ses deux chevaux. et par se lier avec les gens du parti de l'opposition,
evais rendre des visites de devoir aux femmes a la tete desquels, apres la mort de Marius, etaient
des deux ministres d'etat et de finances; et puis je  Claudius,Catilina, Cesar. Mais le parti des grands
dors ou jb reve.  Quelle vie! Rien n'amuse ici: avait besoin d'un jurisconsulte et d'un savant; car
point d'edits, point de reductions, point de retenues, les grands seigneurs, en g6neral, ne savent ni lire
point de suspensions de paiemens: la vie y est d'une  ni ecrire; ii sentit donc qu'on aurait plus besoin de
uniformite tuante; on ne dispute de rien, pas meme  lui dans le parti des grands, et qu'il y jouerait un
de religion. Ah! mon cher Paris! ah! que je te role plus brillant. 11 s'y jeta, et des-lors on vit un
regrette!                                        homme nouveau, un parvenu mnel6 avec les patri.
"Donnez-moi quelques nouvelles  litt.6raires, ciens. Figurez-vous en Angleterre un avocat dont
mais n'en attendez pas en revanche. Pour les la cour a besoin pour faire un chancelier, et qui suit
grands e6vnemens en Europe, je crois que nous en  par cons6quent le parti du ministere. Ciceron brilla
allons devenir le bureau.. On dit, en effet, que la donc a cot6 de Pomp6e, etc., toutes les fois qu'il
flotte Russe a enfin d6barque a Patras, que toute la 6tait question de choses de jurisprudence; mais ii
Moree s'est revoltee et d6claree en faveur des d6-  lui manquait la naissance, les richesses; et surtout
barques, et que sans coup ferir ils s'en sont rendus n'6tant pas homme de guerre, il jouait de ce cote-la
maltres, except6 des villes de Corinthe et de Napoli un role subalterne.  D'ailleurs, par inclination
de Romanime  cela merite confirmation.  Quelle  naturelle, il aimait le parti de Cesar, et il 6tait
avanture! inus serons limitrophes des Russes; fatigue de la morgue des grands qui lui faisaient
et d'OtrantePetersbourg ii n'y aura plus qu'un  sentir souvent le prix des bienfaits dont on l'avait
pas, et- un petit trajet de mer: Dux foemina facti. comble. 11 n'etait pas pusillanime, il etait incertain;
UJne femme aura fait cela! Cela est trop beau pour il ne d6fendait pas des sc6lerats, il defendait les gens
etre vrai."                                       de son parti qui ne valaient guere mieux que ceux
The next is not such pure trifling.             du parti contraire."
"Vous avez reconnu Voltaire dans son sermon  We shall add only the following.
moi je n'y reconnais que l'dcho de feu M. de Vol-    "Le dialogue des tableaux du Louvre interesse
taire. Ah! il rabache trop a present. Sa Catherine  peu a cinq cents lieues de Paris; le baron de Gleiest une maitresse femme, parce qu'elle est intol- chen et moi, nous en avons ri: personnes ne nous
6rante et conquerante; tous les grands hommes aurait entendus. Au reste, a propos des tableaux,
ont 6te intolerans, et ii faut l'etre. Si l'on rencontre  je remarque que le caractere dominant des Fran!ais
sur son chemin un prince sot, il faut lui precher la perce toujours; ils sont causeurs, raisonneurs, badins
tolerance, afin qu'il donne dans le piege, ct que le par essence.  Un  mauvais tableau enfante une
parti ecrase ait le temps de se relever par la tol rance  bonne brochure; ainsi vous parlerez mieux des arts
qu'on lui accorde. et d'ecraser son adversaire a son  que vous ne les cultiverez jamais.  I1 se trouvera
tour. Ainsi le sermon sur la tolhrance est un ser- au bout du compte, dalns quelques siecles, que vois
mon fait aux sots ou aux gens dupes, ou a des gens aurez le mieux raisonne, le mieux discute ce que
qui n'ont aucun int6ret dans la chose: voila pour' toutes les autres nations auront fait de mieux.
quoi, quelquefois, un prince seculier doit 6couter la Cherissez done l'imprimerie, c'estvotre lot dans ce
tol6rance; c'est lorsque l'affaire interesse les pretres bas monde.  Mais vous avez mis un impot sur le
sans int6resser les souverains. Mais en Pologne, les papier.  Quelle sottise! Plaisanterie a part, un
eveques sont tout a la fois pretres et souverains, et. impot sur le papier est la faute en politique la plus
s'ils le peuvent, ils feront fort bien de chasser les forte que se soit commise en France depuis un siecle.
Russes, et d'envoyer au diable tous les Dissidens- II valait mieux faire la banqueroute universelle, et
et Catherine fera fort bien d'ecraser les evcques si laisser au Franmais le plaisir de parler a I'Europe a
cela lui reussit.  Moi je n'en crois rien; je crois que peu de frais. Vous avez plus conquis de pays par
les Russes ecraseront les Turcs par contre-coup, les livres que par les armes. Vous ne devez la
et ne feront qu'agrandir et re'veiller les Polonais, gloire de la nation qu'a vos ouvrages, et vous voulez
comme Philippe 1M. et la maison d'Autriche ecra- vous forcer a vous taire!"
serent 1' Allemagne et l'Italie, en voulant troubler   " Ma belle dame, s'il servait a quelque chose de
la France qu'ils ne firent qu'ennoblir: voila mes pleurer les morts, je viendrais pleurer avec vous la
propheties."                                      perte de notre Helvetius; mais la mort n'est autre
"Votre lettre du 8 juin n'est point gaie; il s'en  chose que le regret des vivans; si nous ne le regret
faut meme beaucoup: vous avouez vous-meme que  tons pas, il n'est pas mort: tout comme Si nous ne
vous n'avez que quelques lueurs de gaiet6; je crains l'avions jamais ni connu ni aime, il ne serait pas ne.
que cela ne tienne au physique, et que vous nevous Tout ce qui existe, existe en nous par. rapport a
portiez pas bien: voila ce qui me fache. Pour moi, nous. Souvenez-vous que le petit prophete faisait
je fais tout ce que je puis pour vous egayer, et ce de la metaphysique Iorsqu'il 6tait triste; i'en fais de
n'est pas un petit effort pour moi: car je suis si mme a present.  Mais enfin le mal de la perte
ennuy6 de mon existence ici, qu'en verite je deviens d' Helveius est le vide qu'il laisse dans la ligne du
homme d'affaires et homme grave de jour en jour bataillon.  Serrons done les lignes, aimons-nous
davantage, et je finirai par devenir Nepolitain, tout davantage, nous qui restons, et il n'y paraitra pas.
comme un autre."                                  Moi qui suis le major de ce malheureux r6giment,
je vous crie a tous: serrez les lignes, avancez, feu!
Another contains some admirable remarks  On ne s'apercevra pas de notre perte.  Ses enfans
on the character of Cicero, introduced in the  n'ont perdu ni jeunesse ni beaute par la mort de
same style of perfect ease and familiarity.       leur pere; elles ont gagne la qualite d'heritieres;
" On peut regarder Cic~ron comme litterateur, pourquoi diable allez-vous pleurer sur leur sort?
comme peut regardhilosophe et comme homme  li'eateur, 11 a Elles se marieront, n'en doutez pas.: cet oracle est
comma phihosophe  ae t es t ommple homme d'stat. qi  a     plus sitr que celui de Calchas. Sa femme est plus a
tin des pins grands lice trateurs qui dient jamais  plaindre, a moins qu'elle ne rencontre un gendre
ete; il savait tout ce qu'on savait de son temps, aussi raisonnable que son mari, ce qui n'est pas
excepti la giome'rie et autres sciences de ce genre. bien aise, mais plus aie a Paris qu'ailleure. II ya
Li e'tait mediocre philosophe: car il savait tout ce encore hien des tsurs, des venue, d  l'herosme
que les Grecs avaient pense, et le rendait avec une  dene votre Paris; il y en a plus qudailleurs croyezciart6 admirable, mais il ne pensait rien et n'avait
cparts admirable, mais il ne pansait nan at nhavait  moi: c'est ce qui me le fait regretter, et me le fera
pas la force de rien imaginer.  Comme homm   peut-tre revoir un our.
d'etat. Ciceron, 6tant d'une basse extractior  et
voulant parvenir, aurait dui se jeter dans le part de    The notice of the death of Helvetius, conl'opposition, de la chamnbre basee ou du peuple, si tained in this last extract, leads us naturally




136                     LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
to turn to the passage in M. Grimm in which  - Nobody knows a better or a more amiable
this event is commemorated; and we there figure in this book, than Madame GEOFFRIZt.
find a very full and curious account of this Active, reasonable, indulgent, and munificent
zealous philosopher. Helvetius wais of Dutch beyond example for a woman in private life1
extraction; and his father having been chief she laid a sure claim to popularity by taking
physician to the Queen, the son was speedily for her maxim the duty of "giving and forappointed to the very lucrative situation of giving 7 and showed herself so genAe in her
Farmer-general of the Finances. He was re- deportment to children and servants, that if
markably good tempered, benevolent, and she had not been overcome with an unlucky
liberal; and passed his youth in idle and vo- passion for intrigue aud notoriety, she might
luptuous indulgence, keepinga sort of seraglio  have afforded one exception at least to the
as a part of his establishment, and exercising general heartlessness of the society to which
himself with universal applause in the noble she belonged.  Some of the repartees rescience of. dancing, in which he attained such corded of her in these volumes, are very
eminence, that he is said to have several remarkable. M. de Rulhiere threatened to
times-supplied the place of the famous Dupr6 make public, certain very indiscreet remarks
in the ballets at the opera. An unhappy pas- on the court of Russia, from the sale of which
sion for literary glory came, however, to dis- he expected great profits. Madame Geoffrin,
turb this easy life. The paradoxes and ef- who thought he would get into'iculties by
frontery of Maupertuis had brought science taking such a step, offered himVvery handinto fashion; and for a season, no supper was some sum to put his manuscript in the fire.
thought complete at Paris without a mathe- He answered her with many lofty and animatician. Helvetius, therefore, betook him- mated observations on the meanness and unself immediately to the study of geometry: worthiness of taking money to suppress truth.
But he could make no hand of it; and for- To all which the lady listened with the utmost
tunately the rage passed away before he had complacency; and merely replied, "Well!
time to expose himself in the eyes of the in- say yourself how much more you must have."
itiated. Next came the poetical glory of Vol- Another mot of hers became an established
taire; —and Helvetius instantly resolved to be canon at all the tables of Paris. The Comte
a poet-and did with great labour produce a de Coigny was wearying her one evening
long poem on happiness, which was not pub- with some interminable story, when, upon
lished however till after his death, and has somebody sending for a part of the dish benotimproved his chance for immortality. But fore him, he took a little knife out of his
it was the success of the President Montes- pocket, and began to carve, talking all the
quieu's celebrated Esprit des Loix, that final- time as before. "Monsieur le Comte," said
ly decided the literary vocation of Helvetius. Madame Goeffrin, a little out of patience,
That work appeared in 1749; and in 1750 the "at table there should only be large knives
Farmer-general actually resigned his office; and short stories. In her old age she was
married, retired into the country, spent ten seized with apoplexy; and her daughter,
long years in digesting his own book De during her illness, refused access to the phiI2Esprit, by which he fondly expected to rival losophers. When she recovered a little, she
the fame of his illustrious predecessor. In laughed at the precaution, and made her
this, however, he was wofully disappointed. daughter's apology-by saying, " She had
The book appeared to philosophers to be done like Godfrey of Bouillon-defended her
-nothing but a paradoxical and laborious repe- tomb from the Infidels."  The idea of her
tition of truths and difficulties with which all ending in devotion, however, occasioned much
good thinkers had long been familiar; and it merriment and some scandal among her phiprobably would have fallen into utter oblivion, losophical associates.
had it not been for the injudicious clamour   The name of Marmontel occurs very often
which was raised against it by the bigots and in this collection; but it is not attended with
devotees of the court. Poor Helvetius. who any distinguished honours. M; Grimm achad meant nothing more than to make him- cuses him of want of force or passion in his
self remarkable, was as much surprised at style, and of poverty of invention and littlethe outcries of the godly, as at the silence ness of genius. He says something, however,of the philosophers; and never perfectly re- of more importance on occasion of the first
covered the shock of this double disappoint- representation of that writer's foolish little
ment. He still continued, however, his habits piece, entitled, " Silvainr." The courtiers and
of kindness and liberality-gave dinners to sticklers for rank, he observes, all pretended
the men of letters when at Paris, and hunted to be mightily alarmed at the tendency of this
and compiled philosophy with great perse- little opera in one act; and the Duc de Noailles
verance in the country. His temper was so took the trouble to say, that its plain object
good, that his society could not fail to be was to show that a gentleman could do nothagreeable; but his conversation, it seems, was ing so amiable as to marry his maid servant,
not very captivating; he loved to push every and let his cottagers kill his game at their
matter of discussion to its very last results; and pleasure. It' is really amusing, continues M.
reasoned at times so very loosely and largely, Grimm, to observe, how positive many people
as to be in danger of being taken for a person are, that all this is the result of a deep plot
very much overtaken with liquor. He died of on the part of the Encyclopedistes, and that
gout in his stomach, at the age of fifty-six; this silly farce is the fruit of a solemn conand, as an author, is now completely forgotten. spiracy against the privileged orders, and in




BARON DE GRIMM.                                      137
support of the horrible doctrine of universal I et qu'il ne sera pas plus permis que par le passe de
equality.  If they would only condescell to parler chez elle ni d'affalres int6rieures ni d'afftires
consult me, however, he concludes I could  ext6rieures; ni d'afiaires de la cour, ni d'affaires do
oblige them with a much simpler, though le l )a ville; ni de paix, ni de guerre; ni de religion,,ii de gouvernement; ni de thiologie, ni de mita.
magnificent solution of the mystery; the truth  physique; ni de grammaire, ni de musique; ni, en
being, that the extravagance of M. Marmon- general, d'aucune mati're quelconque; et qu'elle
tel's little plot proceeds neither from his love cornlnet dom Burigni, bdnddictin de robe courte,
of equality, nor from the commands of arn anti- pour faire taire tout le monde, a cause de sa dexsocial conspiracy, but purely from the poverty terit6, connue, et du grand credit dolit il jouit, et
of his imagination, and his want of talent for pour l tre gronds par elle, ensespar  lise,    toutes
dramatic   It is always much  les contraventions a ces defenses. L'Eglise, condramatic composition.  It is always much  siderant que le silence, et notamment sur les mamore easy to astonish by extravagance, than  tieres dont est question, n'est pas son fort, promet
to interest by natural representations; and  d'obdir autant qu'elle y sera contrainte par forme
those commonplaces, of love triumphing over de violence."
pride of birth, and benevolence getting the    We hear a great deal, of course, of Diderot,
better of feudal prejudices, are among the in a work of which he was partly the author;
most vulgar resources of those who are inca- and it is impossible to deny him  the praise
pable of devising incidents at once probable  of ardour, originality, and great occasional
and pathetic.                                  eloquence.  Yet we not only feel neither reThis was written in the year 1770; —and  spect nor affection for Diderot-but can selwhile it serves to show us that the imputa- dom read any of his lighter pieces without a
tion of conspiracies against the throne and  certain degree of disgust. There is a tone of
the altar, of which succeeding times were  blackguardism —(we really can find no other
doomed to hear so much, were by no means word)-both in his indecency and his proan original invention of the age which gave fanity, which we do not recollect to have met
them  the greatest encouragement, it may  with in any other good writer; and which is
help also to show upon what slight founda- apt, we think. to prove revolting even to those
tion such imputations are usually hazarded. who are accustomed to the licence of this
Great national changes, indeed, are never the  fraternity.  They who do not choose to look
result of conspiracies-but of causes laid deep  into his Religieuse for the full illustration of
and wide in the structure and condition of so- this remark-and we advise no one to look
ciety, —and which necessarily produce those  there for any thing-may find it abundantly,
combinations of individuals. who seem to be though in a less flagrant form, in a little essay
the authors of the revolution when it happens on women, which is inserted in these volumes
to be ultimately brought about by their in- as a supplement or corrective to the larger
strumentality. The Holy Church Philosophic  work of M. Thomas on that subject.  We
of Paris, however, was certainly quite inno- must say, however, that the whole tribe of
cent of any such intention; and, we verily be- French writers who have had any pretensions
lieve had at no time any deeper views in its to philosophy for the last seventy years, are
councils than are expressed in the following  infected with a species of indelicacy which is
extract from its registers.                    peculiar, we think, to their nation; and strikes
"Comme il est d'usage, dans notre sainte Eglise us as more shameful and offensive than any
philosophique, de nous rdunir quelquefois pour don- other.  We do not know  very well how  to
ner aux fideles de salutaires et utiles instructions describe it otherwise than by saying, that it
sur l'dtat actuel de la foi, les progres et bonnes
ceuvres de nos freres, j'ai l'honneur de vous adres-conssts   a  strange combinaton  of physical
ser les annonces et bans qui ont eu lieu a la suite de science with obscenity,  and  an attempt to
notre dernier sermon."                         unite the pedantic and disgusting details of
" Frere Thomas fait savoir qu'il a compose un anatomy and physiology, with images of voEssai sur les Femmes, qui fera un ouvrage con- luptuousness and sensuality; —an  attempt,
siderable. L'Eglise estime la purete de mceurs et we think, exceedingly disusting  and deles vertus de frere Thomas; elle craint qu'il ne basing, but  not in the least  degree either
connaisse pas encore assez les femmes; elle luin  ut n  th                e least denree either
conseille de se lier plus intimement, s'il se peut, seductive or amusing. Maupertuis and Volayec quellues unes des heroines qu'il frdquente,  taire, and Helvetius and Diderot, are full of
pour le plus grand bien de son ouvrage; et, pour this. Buffon and d'Alembert are by no means
le plus grand bien de son style, elle le conjure de free of it; and traces of it may even be disconsidlrer combien, suivant la ddcouverte de notrecovered in the writings of Rousseau himself.
illustre patriarche, l'adjectif affaiblit souvent le substantif, quoiqa'il s'y rapporte en cas, en nornbre et We could pardon  some details in the Emile
en genre. Nacker —or the Confessions; —but we own it appears
"' Smour Necker fait savoir qu'elle donnera tou. to us the most nauseous and unnatural of all
jours a diner les vendredis: l'Eglise s'y rendra, things, to find the divine Julie herself informparce qu'elle fait cam de sa personne et de celle de ing her cousin, with much complacency, that
son epoux; elle voudrait pouvoir en dire autant de she had at last discovered, that "quoique son
son cuisinier.
" Sceur de 1'Espinasse fait savoir que sa fortune cceur trop tendre avoit besoin d'amour, sea
ne lui permet pas d'offrir ni a diner, ni a souper, et sens n'avoient plus besoin dlun amant."
qu'elle n'en a pas moins d'envie de recevoir chez    The following epigram  is a little in the
elle les freres qui voudront y venir dige'rer. L'Eglise  taste we have been condemning;-but it has
m'ordonne de lui dire qu'elle s'y rendra, at que, the merit of being excessively clever.  Maquand on a autant d'esprit et de merite, on paut se dame du Chatelet had long lived separate
passer de beautn et de fortune.
" Mere Geoffrin fait savoir qu'elle renouvelle les from her husband. and was understood to redefenses et lois prohibitives des annees pr6cddentes, ceive the homage of two lovers-Voltaire and




138                     LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY,
lM. de St. Lambert. She died in childbirth; came rather late to a great supper in the negh.and the following dramatic elegy was circu- bourhood; and as it was known that she made
lated all over Paris the week after that catas- it a point of honour to attend on him, the
trophe.                                   catastrophe was generally suspected. She
"M. de Chatelet.-Ah! ce n'est pas ma mentioned it, however, herself, immediately
faute!                                   on coming in; —adding, that it was lucky he' M. de Voltaire.-Je l'avais predit!   had gone off so early in the evening, as she
" M. de St. Lambert.-Elle l'a voulu!"  might otherwise have been prevented from
Crebillon the younger is naturally brought appearing. She then sate down to table, and
to our recollection by the mention of wit and made a very hearty and merry meal of it!
indecency. We have an account of his death,   Besides Pont-de-Vesle, however, this cele.
and a just and candid estimate of his merits, brated lady had a lover almost as ancient, in
in one of the volumes before us. However the President Henault-whom also she had
frivolous and fantastic the style of his novels the misfortune to survive; though he had the
may appear, he had still the merit of invent- complaisance. as well as his predecessor, to
ing that style, and of adorning it with much live to near ninety years for her sake. The
ingenuity, wit, and character. The taste for poo president, however, fell into dotage, be.
his writings, it seems, passed away very ra- fore his death; and one day, when in that
pidly and completely in France; and long state, Madame du Deffant having happened
before his death, the author of the Sopha, and to ask him, whether he liked her or Madame
Les Egaremens du Caeur et de l'Esprit, had de Castelmoron the best, he, quite unconscious
the mortification to be utterly forgotten by of the person to whom he was speaking, not
the public. M. Grimm thinks this reverse of only declared his preference of the absent
fortune rather unmerited; and observes, that lady, but proceeded to justify it by a most
in foreign countries he was still held in esti- feeling and accurate enumeration of the vices
mation, and that few French productions had and defects of his hearer, in which he grew
had such currency in London as the Sopha. sowarm and eloquent, that it was quite imThe reason perhaps may be, that the manners possible either to stop him, or to prevent all
and characters which the French at once who were present from profiting by the comknew to be unnatural, might be mistaken by munication. When Madame de Chatelet died,
us for true copies of French originals. It is a Madame du Deffant testified her grief for the
little more difficulth however, to account for most intimate of her female acquaintance, by
the fact, that the perusal of his works inspired circulating all over Paris, the very next morna young lady of good family in this country ing, the most libellous and venomous attack
with such a passion for the author, that she on her person, her understanding, and her
ran away from her friends, came to Paris, morals. When she came to die herself, howmarried him, and nursed and attended him  ever. she met with just about as much symwith exemplary tenderness and affection to pathy as she deserved. Three of her dearest
his dying day. But there is nothing but luck, friends used to come and play cards every
good or bad-as M. Grimm sagely observes- evening by the side of her couch-and as she
in this world. The author of a licentious chose to die in the middle of a very interestnovel inspires a romantic passion in a lady of ing game, they quietly played it out-and
rank and fortune, who crosses seas, and settled their accounts before leaving the apartabandons her family and her native country ment. We hope these little traits go near to
for his sake;-while the author of the Nouvelle justify what we ventured to say in the outset,
Heloise, the most delicate and passionate of of the tendency of large and agreeable society
all lovers that ever existed, is obliged to clap to fortify the heart; — at all events, they give
up a match with his singularly stupid cham- us a pretty lively idea of the liaisons that
bermaid!                                 united kindred souls at Paris. We might add
Of all the loves, however, that are recorded to the number several anecdotes of the Presiin this chronicle, the loves of Madame du dent Henault —and of the Baron d'Holbach,
Deffant and M. de Ponte-de-Vesle, are the who told Helvetius, a little time before the
most exemplary; for they lasted upwards of death of the latter, that though he had lived
fifty years without quarrel or intermission. all his life with irritable and indigent men of
The secret of this wonderful constancy Is, at letters, he could not recollect that he had
all events, worth knowing; and we give it in either quarrelled with) or done the smallest
the words of an authentic dialogue between service to, any one among them.
this venerable Acme and Septimius.          There is a great deal of admirable criticism
" Pontde-Vesle?-Madame?-Of etes-vous  in this work, upon the writings and genius of
— Au coin de votre cheminee. — Couch  les pieds almost all the author's contemporaries-Dorat,
sur les chenets, comme on est chez ses amis?-  Piron, Millot, Bernard, Mirabeau. Moncrif,
Oui, Madame.-II faut convenir qu'it est pen de Colardeau, and many others, more or less
liaisons aussi anciennes que la notre.-Cela estgenerally known in this country; nor do we
vrai. —1  y a cinquanie ans.-Oui, cinquante ans know any publication, indeed, so well calcupas mme l' apparence d'une brolallerie.-C'est ce lated to give a stranger a just and comprehenpas meme lapparence d'une brouillerie.-C'est ce
que j'ai toujours admire.-Mais, Pont-de-Vesle, sive view of the recent literature of France,
cela ne viendrait-il point de ce qu'au fond nous The little we can afford to extract, however,
avons toujours 6te fort indiffirens Pun a l'autre?- must be hung upon names more notorious.
Cela se pourrait bien, Madame."             The publication of a stupid journal of Mon.
The evening this veteran admirer died, she taigne's Travels in Italy gives M. Grimm  an




BARON DE GRIMM.                                        139
opportunity of saying something of the Essays -Hawkesworth's Voyages are also very much
of that most agreeable veteran.  Nothing can  commended; and Sir William Jones' letter to
be more just than the greater part of the fol- Anqutil du Perron, is said to be capable, with
lowing observations.                           a few retrenchments, of being made worthy
" Quoi-qu'il y ait dans ses Essais tine infiniti de of the pen of the Patriarch himself.-Mrs.
faits d'aneedotes et de citations, it n'est pas difficile Montagu's Essay on Shakespeare is also ap
de s'appercevoir que ses etudes n'etaient ni vastes plauded to the full extent of its merits; and,
ni profondes. I1 n'avait guere lu que quelques po- indeed, a very laudable degree of candour and
etes latins, quelques livres de voyage, et son Seneque moderation is observed as to our national taste
et son Plutarque.                              in the drama.-Shakespeare, he observes, is
"De tons los auteurs qui nous restent d l'an. fit for us  and Racine for them; and each
tiquite, Plutarque est, sans contredit, celui qui a        and Racine for them; an
recueilli le plus de v6rites de fait et de speculation. should be satisfied with his lot, and would do
Ses couvressont une mine in6puisable de lumieres well to keep to his own national manner.
et de connaissances: c'est vraiment i'Encyclop6die When we attempt to be regular and dignified.
des anciens. Montaigne nous en a donn6 la fleur, we are merely cold and stiff; and when they
et il y a ajoute les reflexions les plus fines, et sur- aim at freedom and energy, they become abtout les resultats les plus secrets de sa propre ex-m at freede y become abperience. II me semble done que si j'avais a donner surd and extravagant.  The celebrity of Gacune idee de ses Essais, je dirais en deux mots que rick seems to have been scarcely less at Paris
c'est un commentaire que Montaigne fit sur lui- than in London, —their greatest actor being
meme en m6ditant les ecrits de Plutarqe...Je  familiarly designated " Le Garrick Francois.7'
pense encore que je dirais mat: ce serait lui preterre uniun pr8jet... Montaigne n'en avait aucun. En met- H ers      ofpnmieideed ee  u
tant la plume a la main, it parait n'avoir song6 qu'au versally intelligible and seem to have made
plaisir de causer familierement avec son lecteur. I1 a prodigious impression upon the theatrical!ui rend compte de ses lectures, de ses pensees, de critics of France. But his authority is quoted
ses reflexions, sans suite, sans dessein: il vent avoir by M. Grimm, for the observation, that there
le plaisir de penser tout haut, et it en jouit a son is not the smallest affinity in the tragic decaise. It cite souvent Plutarque, parce que Pnlu- lamation of the two countries;-so that an
tarque etait son livre favori. La seule loi qu'il actor who could i ve the   t an
semble s'etre prescrite, c'est de ne jamais parler orwho could give the most astonighing ef
que de ce qui l'interessait vivement: de la l'energie fect to a passage of Shakespeare. would not,
et la vivacite de ses expressions, la grace et l'origi- though perfectly master of French, be able to
nalit6 de son langage.  Son esprit a cette assurance guess how a single line of Racine should be
et cette franchise aimable que l'on ne trouve que spoken on the stage.
dans ces enfans bien n6s, dont la contrainte du
monde et de l'6ducation ne gena point encore les   We cannot leve   withou e subt observing, with what an
mouvemens faciles et natureIs."howeve  without observing, with what an
agreeable surprise we discovered in M. Grimm,
After a still farther encomium on the sound an auxiliary in that battle which we have for
sense of this favourite writer, M. Grimm con- some time waged, though not without trepidacludes-                                        tion, against the theatrical standards of France,
"Personne n'a-t-il done pense plus que Mon- and in defence of our own more free and irregtaigne? Je l'ignore. Mais ce que je crois bien ular drama. While a considerable part of our
savoir, c'est que personne n'a dit avec plus de sim-  own men of letters, carried away by the authorplicite ce qu'il a senti, ce qu'il a pensI. On ne pcontinental
rien ajouter'a'loge qu' a fait  i-meme de son judgesty and supposed unanimity of the  continental
rien ajouter a t'6loge qu'il a fait. tlui-mgme de son
ouvrage; c' est ici un livre de bonne foi. Cela est judges, were disposed to desert the cause of
divin, et cela est exact."                     Shakespeare and Nature, and to recognize
" Qu'est-ce que toutes les connaissances hu- Racine and Voltaire, as the only true models
maines? le cercle en est si borne!....Et depuis of dramatic excellence, it turns out that the
quatre mille ans, qu'a-t-on fait pour l'6tendre?  greatest Parisian critic, of that best age of
Montesquieu a dit quelque part, qu-'il travaillait 2  i   
un livre de douze pages, qui contiendrait tout ce quecr sm,        of opinion that the very idea
nous savons sur ta Ikltaphysique, la'Politique et la of dramatic excellence had never been deMorale, et tout ce que de grands auteurs ont oublie veloped in France; and that, from  the very
dans les volumes qu'ils out donales sur ces sciences- causes which we have formerly specified
l       2... Je suis tres s6ricusement persuade qu'il  there was neither powerful passion nor reai
ne tenait qu'a lui d'accomplir ce grand projet."    nature on their stage.  After givig some ac
Montesquieu, Buffon, and Raynal are the  count of a play of La Harpe's, he observes)
only authors, we think, of whom  M. Grimm  "I am  more and more  confirmed in  the
speaks with serious respect and admiration. opinion, that true tragedy, such as has never
Great praise is lavished  upon Robertson's yet existed in France, must, after all, be writCharles V.-Young's Night Thoughts are said, ten in prose; or at least can never accomntoand with justice, to be rather ingenious than  (late itself to the pompous and rhetorical tone
pathetic; and to show more of a gloomy im- of our stately versification. The ceremonious
agination than a feeling heart.-Thomson's and affected dignity which belongs to such
Seasons are less happily stigmatized as ex- compositions, is quite inconsistent with the
cessively ornate and artificial. and said to just imitation of nature, and destructive of all
stand in the same relation to the Georgics, true pathos. It may be very fine and very pothat the Lady of Loretto, with all her tawdry  etical; but it is not dramatic: —and accordfinery, bears to the naked graces of the Venus ingly I have no hesitation in maintaining, that
de Medici.-Johnson's Life of Savage is ex- all our celebrated tragedies belong to the epic
tolled as exceedingly entertaining-though  and not to the dramatic division of poetry.
the author is laughed at, in the true Parisian  The Greeks and Romans had a dramatic
taste, for not having made a jest of his hero. verse, which did not interfere with simplicity




140                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
or familiarity of diction; but as we have none, spirit of absolute monarchy-the same artfiwe must make up our minds to compose our cial stateliness-the same slow moving of few
tragedies in prose, if we ever expect to have persons-the same suppression of ordinary
a.ny that may deserve the name. What then?  emotions, and ostentatious display of lofty
he continues;  m nmust we throw our Racines sentiments. and. finally, the same jealousy of
and Voltaires in the fire?-by no means:-  the interference of lower agents, and the same
on the contrary, we must keep them, and horror of vulgarity and tumult. When we
study and admire them more than ever;-consider too, that in the countries where this
but with right conceptions of their true nature form of the drama has been established the
and merit-as masterpieces of poetry, and Court is the chief patron of the theatre, and
reasoning, and description;-as the first works courtiers almost its only supporters, we shall
of the first geniuses that ever adorned any probably be inclined to think that this unination under heaven:- But not as tragedies, formity of character is not a mere accidental
-not as pieces intended to exhibit natural coincidence, but that the same causes which
characters and passions speaking their own have stamped those attributes on the serious
language, and to produce that terrible impres- hours of its rulers, have extended them  to
sion which such pieces alone can produce. those mimic representations which were origConsidered in that light. their coldness and inally devised for their amusement. In Engchildishness will be immediately apparent;-  land, again, our drama has all along partaken
and though the talents of the artist will al- of the mixed nature of our government,ways be conspicuous, their misapplication persons of all degrees take a share in both,
and failure will not be less so. With the each in his own peculiar character and fashion:
prospect that lies before us, the best thing, and the result has been, in both, a much
perhaps, that we can do is to go on, boasting greater activity, variety; and vigour, than was
of the unparalleled excellence we have at- ever exhibited undera more exclusive system.
tained. But how speedily should our boastings In England, too, the stage has in general been
be silenced if the present race of children dependent on the nation at large, and not on
should be succeeded by a generation of men! the favour of the Court; —and it is natural to
Here is a theory," concludes the worthy Baron, suppose that the character of its exhibitions
a little alarmed it would seem at his own te- has been affected by a due consideration of
merity, "which it would be easy to confirm  that of the miscellaneous patron whose feeland illustrate much more completely-if a ings it was its business to gratify and reflect.
man had a desire to be stoned to death before   After having said so much about the stage,
the door of the Theatre Francois! But, in the we cannot afford room either for the quarrels
mean time, till I am better prepared for the or witticisms of the actors, which are reporthonours of martyrdom, I must entreat you to ed at great length in these volumes-or for
keep the secret of my infidelity to yourself." the absurdities, however ludicrous, of the
Diderot holds very nearly the same lan- "Diou de Danse" as old Vestris ycleped himguage. After a long dissertation upon the self-or even the famous i affaire dita.Ienttet
difference between real and artificial dignity, which distracted the whole court of France
he proceeds,-" What follows, then, from all at the marriage of the late King. We can
this-but that tragedy is still to be invented allow only a sentence indeed to the elaborate
in France; and that the ancients, with all their dissertation in which Diderot endeavours to
faults, were probably much nearer inventing prove that an actor is all the worse for having
it than we have been 3 —Noble actions and any feeling of the passions he represents,. and
sentiments, with simple and familiar language, is never so sure to agitate the souls of his
are among its first elements; —and I strongly hearers as when his own is perfectly at ease.
suspect, that for these two hundred years, we We are persuaded that this is not correctly
have mistaken the stateliness of Madrid for true;-though it might take more distinctions
the heroism of Rome. If once a man of ge- than the subject is worth, to fix precisely
nius shall venture to give to his characters where the truth lies. It is plain we think)
and to his diction the simplicity of ancient however, that a good actor must have a capadignity, plays and players will be very differ- city, at least, of all the passions whose lanent things from what they are now. But how  guage he mimics,-and we are rather inclined
much of this," he adds also in a fit of sympa- to think. that he must also have a transient
thetic terror, "could I venture to say to any feeling of them, whenever his mimicry is
body but you! I should be pelted in the very successful. That the emotion should be
streets, if I were but suspected of the blas- very short-lived, and should give way to triphemies I have just uttered."             vial or comic sensations, with very little inWith the assistance of two such allies, we terval, affords but a slender presumption
shall renew the combat against the Continental against its reality, when we consider -how
dramatists with fresh spirits and confidence; rapidly such contradictory feelings succeed
and shall probably find an early opportunity each other, in light minds, in the real business
to brave the field, upon that important theme. of life. That real passion. again, never would
In the mean time we shall only remark, that be so graceful and dignified as the counterwe suspect there is something more than an feited passion of the stage, is either an imanalogy between the government and political peachment of the accuracy of the copy, or a
constitution of the two countries, and the char- contradiction in terms. The real passion of a
actor of their drama.  The tragedy of the noble and dignified character must always be
Continent is conceived in the very genius and dignified and graceful,-and if Caesar, when




BARON DE GRIMM.                                  141
actually bleeding in the Senate-house, folded from the arms of her lawful husband, and to
his robe around him, that he might fall with compel her to submit again to his embraces,decorum  at the feet of his assassins, why and that the court was actually guilty of the
should we say that it is out of nature for a incredible atrocity of granting such an order!
player, both to sympathise with the passions It was not only granted, M. Grimm assures
of his hero, and to think of the figure he us, but executed, —and this poor creature was
makes in the eyes of the spectators? Strong dragged from the house of her husband, and
conception is, perhaps in every case, attended conducted by a file of grenadiers to the quarwith a temporary belief of the reality of its ters of his highness, where she remained till
objects; —and it is impossible for any one to his death, the unwilling and disgusted victim
copy with tolerable success the symptoms of of his sensuality! It is scarcely possible to
a powerful emotion, without a very lively ap- regret the subversion of a form of governprehension and recollection of its actual pre- ment, that admitted, if but once in a century,
sence. We have no idea, we own, that the of abuses so enormous as this: But the tone
copy can ever be given without some partici- in which M. Grimm notices it, as a mere foipation in the emotion itself-or that it is pos- blesse on the part of le Grand MIaurice; gives
sible to repeat pathetic words, and with the us reason to think that it was by no means
true tone and gestures of passion, with the without a parallel in the contemporary history.
same indifference with which a schoolboy re- In England, we verily believe, there never
peats his task, or a juggler his deceptions. was a time in which it would not have proThe feeling, we believe, is often very mo- duced insurrection or assassination.
mentary; and it is this which has misled   One of the most remarkable passages in
those who have doubted of its existence. this philosophical journal, is that which conBut there rare many strong feelings equally tains the author's estimate of the advantages
fleeting and undeniable. The feelings of the and disadvantages of philosophy. Not being
spectators, in the theatre, though frequently much more of an optimist than ourselves, M.
more keen than they experience anywhere Grimm thinks that good and evil are pretty
else, are in general infinitely less durable than fairly distributed to the different generations
those excited by real transactions; and a lu- of men; and that, if an age of philosophy be
dicrous incident or blunder in the perform- happier in some respects than one of ignor
ance, will carry the whole house, in an instant, ance and prejudice, there are particulars in
from sobbing to ungovernable laughter: And which it is not so fortunate. Philosophy. he
even in real life, we have every day occasion thinks) is the necessary fruit of a certain exto observe, how quickly the busy, the dissi- perience and a certain maturity; and impliesx
pated, the frivolous, and the very youthful, in nations as well as individuals, the extincc~n pass from one powerful and engrossing tion of some of the pleasures as well as the
emotion to another. The daily life of Vol- follies of early life. All nations, he observes,
taire, we think, might have furnished Diderot have begun with poetry, and ended with phiwith as many and as striking instances of the losophy —or, rather, have passed through the
actual succession of incongruous emotions, as region of philosophy in their way to that of
he has collected from the theatrical life of stupidity and dotage. They lose the poetical
Sophie Arnoud, to prove that one part of the passion, therefore, before they acquire the
succession must necessarily have been ficti- taste for speculation; and. with it, they lose
tious.                                    all faith in those allusions, and all interest in
There are various traits of the oppressions those trifles which make the happiness of the
and abuses of the government, incidentally brightest portion of our existence. If, in this
noticed in this work, which maintains. on the advanced stage of society, men are less brutal,
whole, a very aristocratical tone of politics. they are also less enthusiastic; —if they are
One of the most remarkable relates to no less more habitually beneficent, they have less
a person than the Mar6chal de Saxe. This warmth of affection. They are delivered in
great warrior, who is known never to have deed from the yoke of many prejudices; but
taken the field without a small travelling se- at the same time deprived of many motives
raglio in his suite, had engaged a certain of action. They are more prudent, but more
Madlle. Chantilly to attend him in one of his anxious-are more affected with the general
campaigns.  The lady could not prudently interests of mankind, but feel less for their
decline the honour of the invitation, because neighbours; and, while curiosity takes the
she was very poor; but her heart and soul place of admiration, are more enlightened, but
were devoted to a young pastry cook of the far less delighted withthe universe in which
name of Favart, for whose sake she at last they are placed.
broke out of the Marshal's camp, and took   The effect of this philosophical spirit on the
refuge in the arms of her lover; who reward- arts, is evidently unfavourable on the whole.
ed her heroism by immediately making her Their end and object is delight, and that of
his wife. The history of the Marshal's la- philosophy is truth; and the talent that seeks
mentation on finding himself deserted, is to instruct, will rarely condescend to aim
purely ridiculous, and is very well told; but merely at pleasing. Racine and Moliere, and.our feelings take a very different character Boileau, were satisfied with furnishing amusewhen, upon reading a little farther, we find ment to such men as Louis XIV., and Colbert,
that this illustrious person had the baseness and Turenne; but the geniuses of the presand brutality to apply to his sovereign for a ent day pretend to nothing less than enlighttettre de cachet to force this unfortunate woman ening their rulers; and the same young men




142                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
who would ibrmerly have made their debut After these precious ameliorations were comn.
with a pastoral or a tragedy, now generally pleted, they threw of the full impression;
leave college with a new system of philoso- and, to make all sure and irremediable, con.
phy and government in their portfolios. The signed both the manuscript and the original
very metaphysical, prying, and expounding proofs to the flames! Such, says M. Grimmn
turn of mind that is nourished by the spirit is the true explanation of that mass of im
of philosophy, unquestionably deadens our pertinences, contradictions, and incoherenceq,
sensibility to those enjoyments which it con- with which all the world has been struck, in
verts into subjects of speculation. It busies the last ten volumes of this great compilation.
itself in endeavouring to understand those It was not discovered till the very eve of the
emotions which a simpler age was contented publication; when Diderot having a desire to
with enjoying; —and seeking, like Psyche, to look back to one of his own articles, printed
have a distinct view of the sources of our some years before, with difficulty obtained a
pleasures, is punished, like her, by their in- copy of the sheets containing it from the
stant annihilation.                       warehouse of M. Breton-and found, to his
Religion, too, continues M. Grimm, consid- horror and consternation, that it had been garered as a source of enjoyment or consolation bled and mutilated, in the manner we have
in this world, has suffered from the progress just stated. His rage and vexation on the
of philosophy, exactly as the fine arts and af- discovery, are well expressed in a long letter
fections have done. It has no doubt become to Breton, which M. Grimm has engrossed in
infinitely more rational, and less liable to his register. The mischief however was iratrocious perversions; but then it has also remediable, without an intolerable delay and
become much less enchanting and ecstatic-  expense; and as it was impossible for the
much less prolific of sublime raptures, bean-. editor to take any steps to bring Breton to
tific visions, and lofty enthusiasm. It has punishment for this "horrible forfait," withsuffered, in short, in the common disenchant- out openly avowing the intended publication
ment; and the same cold spirit which has of a work which the court only tolerated by
chased so many lovely illusions from the earth, affecting ignorance of its existence, it was at
has dispeopled heaven of half its marvels and last resolved, with many tears of rage and
its splendours.                           vexation, to keep the abomination secret-at
We could enlarge with pleasure upon these least till it was proclaimed by the indignant
ust and interesting speculations; but it is denunciations of the respective authors whose
time we should think of drawing this article works had been subjected to such cruel muto a close; and we must take notice of a very tilation.  The most surprising part of the
extraordinary transaction which M. Grimm  story however is, that none of these authors
has recorded with regard to the final publica- ever made any complaint about the matter.
tion of the celebrated Encyclopedie. The re- Whether the number of years that had elapsdaction of this great work, it is known, was ed since the time when most of them  had
ultimately confided to Diderot; who thought furnished their papers, had made them init best, after the disturbances that had been sensible of the alterations-whether they beexcited by the separate publication of some lieved the change effected by the base hand
of the earlier volumes, to keep up the whole of Breton to have originated with Diderot,
of the last ten till the printing waS finished; their legal censor —or that, in fact, the alteraand then to put forth the complete work at tions were chiefly in the articles of the said
once. A bookseller of the name of Breton, Diderot himself, we cannot pretend to say;
who was a joint proprietor of the work, had but M. Grimm assures us, that, to his astonthe charge of the mechanical part of the con- ishment and that of Diderot, the mutilated
cern; but, being wholly illiterate, and indeed publication, when it at last made its appearwithout pretensions to literature, had of ance, was very quietly received by the incourse no concern with the correction, or even jured authors as their authentic production,
the perusal of the text. This person, how- and apologies humbly made, by some of them,
ever, who had heard of the clamours and for imperfections that had been created by
threatened prosecutions which were excited the beast of a publisher.
by the freedom of some articles in the earlier   There are many curious and original anecvolumes, took it into his head, that the value dotes of the Empress of Russia in this book;
and security of the property might be improv- and as she always appeared to advantage
ed, by a prudent castigation of the remaining where munificence and clemency to individuparts; and accordingly, after receiving from  als were concerned, they are certainly calcu.
Diderot the last proofs and revises of the dif- lated to give us a very favourable impression
ferent articles, took them home, and, with the of that extraordinary woman. We can only
assistance of another tradesman, scored out, afford room now for one, which characterises
altered, and suppressed, at their own discre- the nation as well as its sovereign. A popution, all the passages which they in their wis- lar poet, of the name of Sumarokoff, had
dom apprehended might give offence to the quarrelled with the leading actress at Moscow
court, or the church, or any other persons in and protested that she should never again
authority-giving themselves, for the most have the honour to perform in any of his tra.
part, no sort of trouble to connect the disjoint- gedies. The Governor of Moscow, however
ed passages that were left after these mutila- not being aware of this theatrical feud,
tions —and sometimes soldering them together thought fit to order one of Sumarokoff's tragewith masses of their own stupid vulgarity. dies for representation, and also to command




LIFE AND WRITINGS OF VICTOR ALFIERI.                                143
the services of the offending actress on the miscellaneous contents.  Whoever wishes to
occasion.  Sumnarokoff did not venture to take  see the economist wittily abused-to read a
any step against his Excellency the Gover- full and picturesque account of the tragical
nor; but when the heroine advanced in full rejoicings that filled Paris with mourning at
Muscovite costume on the stage, the indig- the marriage of the late King-to learn how
nant poet rushed forward from  behind the Paul Jones was a writer of pastorals and love
scenes, seized her reluctantly by the collar songs-or how they made carriages of leather,
and waist, and tossed her furiously from the and evaporated diamonds in 1772 —to trace
boards. He then went home, and indited two  the debut of Madame de Stael as an author at
querulous and sublime epistles to the Em- the age of twelve, in the year --- -to unpress. Catherine, in the midst of her gigantic derstand M. Grimm's notions on suicide and
schemes of conquest and improvement, had  happiness-to know in what the unique charm
the patience to sit down and address the fol- of Madlle. Thevenin consisted-and in what
lowing good-humoured and sensible exhorta- manner the dispute between the patrons of
tion to the disordered bard.                   the French and the Italian music was con" Monsieur Sumarokoff, j'ai 6t fort 6tonnee de ducted-will do well to peruse the five thick
votre lettre du 28 Janvier, et encore plus de celie volumes, in which these, and innumerable
du premier Fe'vrier. Toutes deux contiennent, a other matters of equal importance are disce qu'il me semble, des plaintes contre la Belmon- cussed, with the talent and vivacity with
tia qui pourtant n'a fait que suivre les ordres du which the reader must have been struck, in
comte Soltikoff. Le feld-marechal a desire de voir the least of the foregoing extracts.
representer votre tragedie; cela vous fait honneur.the least o  t ne foregoing extracts.
II 6tait convenable de vous conformer au d6sir de la    We add but one trivial remark, which is
premiere personne en autorit a iMoscou; mais si forced upon us, indeed, at almost every page
elle a jug6 a propos d'ordonner que cette piece fdt of this correspondence. The profession of litrepresent6e, il fallait ex6cuter sa volonte sans con- erature must be much wholesomer in France
testation. Je crois que vous savez mieux que per- than in any other country: —for though the
sonne combien de respect meritent des hommes qui volumes before us may be regarded as a great
ont servi avec gloire, et dont la t'te est couverte de
cheveux blancs; c'est pourquoi je vous conseille literary obituary, and  record the deaths, we
d'eviter de pareilles disputes a l'avenir. Par ce suppose, of more than an hundred persons of
moyen vous conserverez la tranquillite d'ame qui some note in the world of letters, we scarcely
est necessaire pour vos ouvrages, et il me sera tou- meet with an individual who is less than
ours plus agraable de voir les passions repr.sentees seventy or eighty years of age-aand no very
dahs vos drames que de les lire dans vos lettres.    small proportion actually last till near ninet
"Au surplus, je suis votre affectionnee.
" Au surplus, je suis votre affectionnee.    small proportion actually last till near ninety
Signe      CATHERINE."   or an hundred-although the greater part of
" Je conseille," adds M. Grimm, "a tout min- them  seem  neither to have lodged so high,
istre charge du d6partement des lettres de cachet, nor lived so low, as their more active and abd'enr6gistrer ce formulaire a son greffe, et a tout stemious brethren in other cities.  VI. Grimm
hasard de n'en jamais d6livrer d'autres aux poetesobserves that, by a remarkable fatality  Euet a tout cc qui a droit d'&tre du genre irritable,obevs ta, barm            be flity
c'est-a-dire enfant et fou par 6tat. Apres cette rope was deprived, in the course of little more
lettre qui merite peut-etre autant l'immortalit6 que than six months, of the splendid and comles monumens de la sagesse et de la gloire du rmgne manding talents of Rousseau, Voltaire, Haller,
actuel de la Russie, je meurs de peur de m'affermir Linnreus, Heidegger, Lord Chatham, and Le
dans la pensee he6rtique que l'esprit ne gate jamais Kain-a constellation of genius, he adds, that
rien, meme sur le trone."                      when it set to us, must have carried a dazzling
But it is at last necessary to close these en- light'into the domains of the King of Terrors,
tertaining volumes,-though  we  have  not and excited no small alarm in his ministersbeen able to furnish our readers with any if they bear any resemblance to the ministers
thing like a fair specimen of their various and  of other sovereigns.
(  analar', 181. )
Memoirs of the Life and Writings of VICTOR ALFIERI. Written by Himself. 2 vols. 8vo.
pp. 614. London: 1810.
THIS book contains the delineation of an  great leading features in the mind of Alfieri.
extraordinary and not very engaging charac- Strengthened, and in some degree produced,
ter; and an imperfect sketch of the rise and by a loose and injudicious education, those
progress of a great poetical genius.  It is de- traits were still further developed by the pre.
serving of notice  in both  capacities-but mature and protracted indulgences of a very
chiefly in the first; as there probably never dissipated youth; and when, at last, they adwas an instance in which the works of an mitted of an application to study, imparted
author were more likely to be influenced by  their own character of impetuosity to those
his personal peculiarities.  Pride and enthu- more  meritorious  exertions; —converted  a
siasm-irrepressible vehemence and ambition  taste into a passion; and left him, for a great
-and an arrogant, fastidious, and somewhat part of his life, under the influence of a true
narrow system of taste and opinions, were the and irresistible inspiration.  Every thing in




144                     LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
him, indeed, appears to have been passion and are by no means well written; and that they
ungoverned impulse; and, while he was will form no exception to the general obser.
raised above the common level of his degene- vation, that almost all Italian prose is feeble
rate countrymen by a stern and self-willed and deficient in precision. There is somehaughtiness. that might have become an an- thing, indeed, quite remarkable in the wordicient Roman, he was chiefly distinguishi  ness of most of the modern writers in this
from other erect spirits by the vehemence language,-the very copiousness and smoothwhich formed the basis of his character, and ness of which seems to form an apology for
by the uncontrolled dominion which he al- the want of force or exactness-and to hide,
lowed to his various and successive propensi- with its sweet and uniform flow, both from
ties. So constantly and entirely, indeed, was the writer and the reader, that penury of
he under the influence of these domineering thought, and looseness of reasoning, which
attachments, that his whole life and character are so easily detected when it is rendered into
might be summed up by describing him as a harsher dialect. Unsatisfactory, however,
the victim, successively, of a passion for as they are in many particulars, it is still imhorses-a passion for travelling-a passion for possible to peruse the memoirs of such a man
literature-and a passion for what he called as Alfieri without interest and gratification.
independence.                             The traits of ardour and originality that are
The memoirs of such a life, and the con- disclosed through all the reserve and gravity
fessions of such a man, seem to hold out a of the style, beget a continual expectation and
promise of no common interest and amuse- curiosity; and even those parts of the story
ment. Yet, though they are here presented which seem to belong rather to his youth,
to us with considerable fulness and apparent rank, and education, than to his genius or pefidelity, we cannot say that we have been culiar character, acquire a degree of importmuch amused or interested by the perusal. ance, from considering how far those very
There is a proud coldness in the narrative, circumstances may have assisted the formawhich neither invites sympathy, nor kindles tion, and obstructed the development of that
the imagination. The author seems to dis- character and genius; and in what respects
dain giving himself en spectacle to his readers; its peculiarities may be referred to the obstaand chronicles his various acts of extrava- cles it had to encounter, in misguidance,
gance and fits of passion, with a sober and passion, and prejudice.
languid gravity, to which we can recollect no   Alfieri was born at Asti, in Piedmont, of
parallel. In this review of the events and noble and rich, but illiterate parents, in JanuFeelings of a life of adventure and agitation, ary 1749.  The history of his childhood,
he is never once betrayed into the genuine which fills five chapters, contains nothing
language of emotion; but dwells on the scenes very remarkable. The earliest thing he reof his childhood without tenderness, and on members, is being fed with sweetmeats by
the struggles and tumults of his riper years an old uncle with square-toed shoes. He was
without any sort of animation. We look in educated at home by a good-natured, stupid
vain through the whole narrative for one priest; and having no brother of his own age
gleam  of that magical eloquence by which was without any friend or companion for the
Rousseau transports us into the scenes he de- greater part of his childhood. When about
scribes, and into the heart which responded seven years old, he falls in love with the
to those scenes,-or even for a trait of that smooth faces of some male novices in a neighsocial garrulity which has enabled Marmontel bouring church; and is obliged to walk about
and Cumberland to give a grace to obsolete with a green net on his hair, as a punishment
anecdote, and to people the whole space for fibbing. To the agony which he endured
around them with living pictures of the beings from this infliction, he ascribes his scrupulous
among whom they existed. There is not one adherence to truth through the rest of his life;
character attempted, from beginning to end -all this notwithstanding; he is tempted to
of this biography; —which is neither lively, in steal a fan from an old lady in the family,
short, nor eloquent-neither playful, impas- and grows silent, melancholy, and reserved;
sioned, nor sarcastic. Neither is it a mere -at last when about ten years of age, he is
unassuming outline of the author's history and sent to the academy at Turin.
publications, like the short notices of Hume   This migration adds but little to the interest
or Smith. It is, on the contrary, a pretty co- of the narrative, or the improvement of the
pious and minute narrative of all his feelings writer. The academy was a great, ill-reguand adventures; and contains, as we should lated establishment; in one quarter of which
suppose, a tolerably accurate enumeration of the pages of the court, and foreigners of dishis migrations, prejudices, and antipathies. It tinction, were indulged in every sort of dissiis not that he does not condescend to talk pation-while the younger pupils were stowed
about trifling things, but that he will not talk into filthy cells, ill fed, and worse educated.
about them in a lively or interesting manner; There he learned a little Latin, and tried, in
and systematically declines investing any part vain, to acquire the elements of mathematics;
of his statement with those picturesque de- for, after the painful application of several
tails, and that warm colouring, by which alone months, he was never able to comprehend
the story of an individual can often excite the fourth proposition of Euclid; and found.
much interest among strangers. Though we he says, all his life after, that he had   a comhave not been able to see the original of these pletely anti-geometrical head 1  Front the
Memo;rs, we will venture to add, that they bad. diet, and preposterously early hours of'




LIFE ANND WRITINGS OF VICTOR ALFIERI.                               145
the academy, he soon fell into wretched  to Asti, and were all bedaubed with rouge  the
health, and, growing more melancholy and  use of which was then exclusively confined to the
solitary than ever, became covered over with  French. I have frequently mentioned this circumstance several years afterwards, not being able to
sores and ulcers.  Even in this situation, account for such an absurd and ridiculous practice,
however, a- little glimmering of literary ambi- which is wholly at variance with nature; for when
tion became visible.  He procured-a copy of men, to disguise the effects of sickness, or other
Ariosto from a voracious schoolfellow, by giv- calamities, besmear themselves with this detestable
ing  up to him his share of the chickens which  rouge,-they carefully conceal it; well knowing
formed their Sunday regale-; and rea~d Metas- that, when discovered, it only excites the laughter
Biformed their  as w t andreand de- or pity of the beholders. These painted French
tasio and Gil Blas with great ardourand de- figures left a deep and lasting impression on my
light. The inflammability of his imagination, mind, and inspired me with a certain feeling of dishowever, was more strikingly manifested in  gust towards the females of this nation.
the effects of the first opera to which he was    "From my geographical studies resulted another
admitted, when he was only about twelve  cause of antipathy to that nation. Having seen on
years of age.                                  the chart the great difference in extent and population between England or Prussia and France; and
"This varied and enchanting music," he ob- hearing, every time news arrived from the armies,
serves, sunk deep into my soul, and made the most that the French had been beaten by sea and land;
astonishing impression on my imagination;-it agi-  -recalling to mind the first ideas of my infancy,
tated the inmost recesses of my heart to such a during which I was told that the French had fredegree, that for several weeks I experienced the quently been in possession of Asti; and that during
most profound melancholy, which was not, how- the last time, they had suffered themselves to be
ever, wholly unattended with pleasure. I became taken prisoners to the number of six or seven
tired and disgusted with my studies, while at the thousand, without resistance, afterconducting themsame time the most wild and whimsical ideas took selves, while they remained in possession of the
such possession of my mind, as would have led me place, with the greatest insolence and tyranny;to portray them in the most impassioned verses, all these different circumstances, being associated
had I not been wholly unacquainted with the true with the idea of the ridiculous dancing-master! tendnature of mny own feelings. It was the first time ed more and more to rivet in my mind an aversion
music had produced such a powerful effect on my  to the French nation." —pp. 83 —86.
mind. I had never experienced any thing similar,
and it long remained engraven on my memory.   At the early age of fourteen
When I recollect the feelings excited by the repre. put in possession of a considerable part of his
sentation of the grand operas, at which I was pre- fortune; and launched immediately into every
sent during several carnivals, and compare them  sort of fashionable folly and extravagance,
with those which I now experience, on returning His passion for horses, from  which he was
from the performance of a piece I have not witnessed for some time, I am fully convinced that never entirely emancipated, now too  entire
nothing acts so powerfully on my mind as all spe- possession of his soul; and his days were
cies of music, and particularly the sound of female spent in galloping up and down the environs
voices, and of contro-alto. Nothing excites more of Turin, in company chiefly with the young
various or terrific sensations in my mind. Thus English who were resident in that capitaL
the plots of the greatest number of my tragedies From  this society, and these exercises! he
were either formed while listening to music, or a soon derived such  mprovement that in a
few hours afterwards."-p. 71-73.               soon derived such improvement that     a
short time he became by far the most skilful
With this tragic and Italian passion for jockey, farrier, and coachman, that modem
Music, he had a sovereign contempt and ab- Italy could boast of producing.
horrence for Dancing.  His own account of    For ten or twelve years after this period,,
the origin of this antipathy, and of the first the life of Alfieri presents a most humfiliating,
rise of those national prejudices, which he  but instructive picture of idlenebs, dissipation,'never afterwards made any effort to over- and ennui. It is the finest and most flattering
come, is among the most striking and charac- illustration of Miss Edgeworth's admirable
teristic passages in the earlier part of the tale of Lord Glenthorn; and, indeed, rather
story.                                         outgoes, than falls short of that high-coloured,
"To the natural hatred I had to dancing, was and apparently exaggerated representation.joined an invincible antipathy towards my master Such, indeed, is the coincidence between the
-a  Frenchman newly arrived from  Paris.  He traits of the fictitious and the real character,
possessed a certain air of polite assurance, which, that if these Memoirs had been published when
joined to his ridiculous motions and absurd dis- Miss Edgeworth's story was written, it would
course, greatly increased the innate aversion I felt have been impossible not to suppose that she,
towards this frivolous art. So unconquerable was
this aversion, that, after leaving school, I couldhadderivedfromthemeverythingthatisstrik
never be prevailed on to join in any dance what- iIg -and extraordinary in her narrative.  For
ever. The very name of this amusement still tvo or three years,  Alfieri contented himself
makes me shudder, and laugh at the same time-  with running, restless and discontented, overa circumstance by no means unusual with me. I the different states and cities of Italy; almost
attribute, also, in a great measure, to this dancing- ignorant of its lan
master the unfavourable, and perhaps erroneous,   nbt o  t laue and  tts  Con —
opinion T have formed of the French people! who, ent both to its literature an(l its arts.  Connevertheless, it must be confessed, possess many  sumed, at every moment of inaction, with the
agreeable and estimable qualities. But it is diffi- most oppressive discontent and unhappiness,
cult to weaken or efface impressions received ill he had no relief but in the velocity of his
early youth. Two other causes also contributed to movements and the rapidity of his transitions.
render me from  my infancy disgusted with the
French character. The first was the impression  Disappointed with every thing, and believing
made on my mind by the sight of the ladies who himself incapable of application or reflection.
accompanied the Duchess of Parma in her journey  he passed his days ir a perpetual fever of
10




146                        LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
impatience and dissipation;-apparently pur- against a rock, I could behold the sea and sky
ulling enjoyment with an eagerness which  without interruption. In the contemplation of these
awas in reality inspired by the vain hope of objects, embellished by the rays of the setting sun
escaping from misery.  There is much gene- I passed my time dreaming of future delights."escaping from misery. There is much gene- Vol. i. pp. 150, 151.
ra.l truth, as well as peculiar character, in the
following simple confession.                     In a very short time, however, these reve"In spite, however, of this constant whirl of ries became intolerable; and he very nearly
ties became intolerable; and he very- nearly
dissipation, my being master of my own actions;  illed himself and his horses in rushing, with
notwithstanding I had plenty of money, was in the incredible velocity, to Paris. This is his own
heyday of youth, and possessed a prepossessing  account of the impression which was made
figure; I yet felt every where satiety, ennui, and upon lhim  by his first sight of this brilliant
disgust. My greatest pleasure consisted in attend- metropolis.
ing the opera buffa, though the gay and lively
music left a deep and melancholy impression in my    "It was on a cold, cloudy, and rainy morning,
mind.  A thousand gloomy and mournful ideas between the 15th and 20th of August, that I
assailed my imagination, in which I delighted to entered Paris, by the wretched suburb of St. Marindulge by wandering alone on the shores near the ceau. Accustomed to the clear and serene sky of
Chiaja and Portici."-Vol. i. p. 128.           Italy and Provence, I felt much surprised at the
When he gets to Venice, things are, if pos- thick fog which enveloped the city, especially at
this season. Never in my life did I experience
sible, still worse —though like other hypo- more disagreeable feelings than on entering the
chondriacs, he is disposed to lay the blame  damp and dirty suburb of St. Germain, where I
on the winds and the weather.  The tumult was to take up my lodging. What inconsiderate
of the carnival kept him alive, it seems, for a haste, what mad folly had led me into this sink
few days.                                      of filth and nastiness! On entering the inn, I felt
myself thoroughly undeceived;'and I should cer"But no sooner was the novelty over, than my tainly have set off again immediately, had not shame
habitual melancholy and ennui returned. I passed  and fatigue withheld me. My illusions were still
several days together in complete solitude, never further dissipated when I began to ramble through
leaving the house nor stirring from the window, Paris.  The mean and wretched buildings; the
whence I made signs to a young lady who lodged contemptible ostentation displayed in a few houses
opposite, and with whom I occasionally exchanged  dignified with the pompous appellation of hotels
a few words. During the rest of the day, which  and palaces; the filthiness of the Gothic churches;
hung very heavy on my hands, I passed my time the truly vandal-like construction of the public
either in sleeping or in dreaming, I knew not which, theatres at that time, besides innumerable other
and frequently in weeping without any apparent disagreeable objects, of which not the least dismotive. I had lost my tranquillity, and 1 was unable gusting to me was the plastered countenances
even to divine what had deprived me of it. A few  of many very ugly women, far outweighed in my
years afterwards, on investigating the cause of' this mind the beauty and elegance of the public walks
occurrence, I discovered that it proceeded from a and gardens, the infinite variety of fine carriages,
malady which attacked me every spring, some- the lofty fagade of the Louvre, as well as the numtimes in April, and sometimes in June: its dura- ber of spectacles and entertainments of every
tion was longer or shorter, and its violence very  kind."-Vol. i. pp. 153, 154.
different, according as my mind was occupied.
"I likewise experienced that my intellectual   There, then, as was naturally to be exfaculties resembled a barometer, and that I pos- pected, he again found himself tormented
sessed more or less talent for composition, in pro- "by the demon of melancholy -  and, after
portion to the weight of the atmosphere. During the
prevalence of the solstitial and equinoctial winds, trying in vain the boasted stimulant of play,
I was always remarkably stupid, and uniformly  lie speedily grew  wearied of the place and
evinced less penetration in the evening than the all its amusements, and resolved to set off,
morning.  I likewise perceived that the force of without delay, for England.  To England,
my imagination. the ardour of enthusiasm, and ca- accordingly, he goes, at midwinter; and with
pability of invention, were possessed by me in a such a characteristic and compassionable crahigher degree in the middle of winter, or in the
middle of summer, than during the intermediate ving for all sorts of powerful sensations, that
I.periods. This materiality, which I believe to be  " he rejoiced exceedingly at the extreme cold,;common to all men of a delicate nervous system, which actually froze the wine and bread in his;has greatly contributed to lessen the pride with  carriage during a part of the journey."  Pre-'which the good I have done might have inspired  pared as he was for disappointment by the
-mc, in like manner as it has tended to diminish                     r     o           b  t e
sthe shame I might have felt for the errors I have Alfieri wual extravagance  of hs expectation.cemmitted, particularly in my own art."-Vol. i.Alfieri was delighted with England.  "The
kpp. 140-142.                                   roads, the inns the horses. and, above all, the
incessant bustle in the suburbs) as well as in
In his nineteenth year, he extends his
Ste-els  to France, and stops a few weeks aS  the capital, all conspired to fill my mind with'Marseilles,'wher  he                                     He passed a part of the winter in
exacty as Lord Glenthorn is represented to good society, in London; but soon "becoming
have done his at his Irish castle.  To help  disgusted with assemblies and routs, deterwawy the hours, he went every night to the  mined  no longer to play the  lord in the
play,-although his Italian ears were disgusted  drawing-room, but the coachman at the gate!
ittht the poverty of the recitation; and,      and accordingly  contrived  to get through
three laborious months, by being "five or
after the performance was over, it was my  six hours every morning on horseback, and
regular practice to bathe every evening in the sea. being seated on the coachbox for two or three
I was induced to indulge myself in this luxury, in hours every evening, whatever was the state
consequence of finding a very agreeable spot, on a                   Even these great and
tongue of land lying to the right of the harbour,of the weather.    Even these great and
There, seated on the sand, with my back leaning meritorious exertions, however, could  not




LIFE AND WRITINGS OF VICTOR ALFIERI.                                147
long keep down his inveterate malady, nor off' to Vienna.  The state of his mind, both
quell the evil spirit that possessed him; and  as to idleness and politics, is strikingly reprehe was driven to make a hasty tour through  sented in the following short passage.
the west of England, which appears to have    "I might easily, during my stay at Vienna, have
afforded him very considerable relief.         been introduced to the celebrated poet Metastasio,
at whose house our minister, the old and respectas
determined to settle in it; not that I was much hle Count Canale, passed his evenings in a select
attached to any individual, but because I was de. company of men of letters, whoso chief amusenent
lighted with the scenery, the simple manners of the consisted in reading portions from the Greek, Lalinhab tants, the modesty and beautys    of the womentin, and Italian classics. Having taken an affecnbtants, te modesty and beauty of  tion for me, he wished, out of pity to my idleness,
and, above all, with the enjoyment of political lib-    me     he     ut 
erty, —all which  made me overlook its mutabletoconductmethither. ButIdeclinedaccompanyer  btyalw hi~ch madelmeovtinseparloo   mutable iing him, either from my usual awkwardness, or
cliniaic, the ntelatcholy almost inseparable from it, from the contempt which the constant habit of
and the exorbitant price of all the necessaries of reading French works had given me fot Italian prolife."-Vol.. i. pp. 162, 163.                  ductions. Hence I concluded, that this assemblage
Scarcely, however, was this bold resolution  of men of letters, with their classics, could be only
of settling adopted, when the author is again  a dismal company of pedants. Besides, I had seen
" seized s wth the i                           Metastasio, in the gardens of Schoenbrunn, perform
seized with the mania of travelling';  and  the customary genuflexion to Maria Theresa in
skims over to Holland in the beginning of  such a servile and adulatory manner, that I, who
summer.  And here he is still more effec- had my head stuffed with Plutarch, and who exag.
tually diverted than ever, by falling in love gerated every thing I conceived, could not think of
with a young married lady at the Hague, who  binding myself, either by the ties of familiarity or
was ouligig enough  to return his affection. friendship, with a poet who had sold himself to a
despotism which I so cordially detested."
Circumstances, however, at last compel the                               Vol. i. pp. 182, 183.
fair one to rejoin her husband in Switzer-    From Vienna he flew to Prussia, which he
land; and the impetuous Italian is affected    From Vienna he flew to Prussia
with such violent despair, that he makes a says, looked all like one great guardhouse:
desperate attempt on his life, by taking off and where he could not repress "the horror
the bandages after being let blood; and re- and indignation he felt at beholding oppresturns sullenly to Italy, without stopping to sion and despotism  assuming the mask of
look at any thing, or uttering a single word to virtue."  From Prussia he passed on to Denh
his servant during the whole course of the mark; where his health was seriously affectjourney.                                       ed by the profligacy in which he indulged;
This violent fit of depression, however, and  and where the only amusement he could relthe seclusion by which it was followed, led  ish, consisted in "driving a sledge with inhim, for the first time, to look into his books; conceivable velocity over the snow."  In this
and the perusal of the Lives of Plutarch seems way he wandered on through Sweden and
to have made such an impression on his ardent Finland to Russia; and experienced, as usual
and susceptible spirit, that a passion for liberty  a miserable disappointment on arriving at St.
and independence now took the lead of every  Petersburg.
other in his soul, and he became for life an    "Alas! no sooner had I reached this Asiatic asemulator of the ancient republicans. He read  semblage of wooden huts, than Rome, Genoa, Vethe story of Timoleon, Brutus,.&c., he assures nice, and Florence rose to my recollection; and I
could not refrain from  laughing. What I after.
us, with floods of tears, and agonles of admi- wards saw of this country tended still more strongly
ration.  "I was like one beside himself; and  to confirm my first impression, that it merited not
shed tears of mingled grief and rage at having  to be seen. Every thing, except their beards and
been'born at Piedmont; and at a period, and  their horses, disgusted me so much, that, during six
under a government, where it was impossible  weeks I remained among these savages, I deter~to conceive or execute any great design? mined not to become acquainted with any one; nor
to conceive  or execute any great design.t   even to see the two or three youths with whom I
The same sentiment, indeed, seems to have  had associated at Turin, and who were descended
haunted him  for the greater part of his life; from the first families of the country. I took no
and is expressed in many passages of these  measure to be presented to the celebrated AutoMemoirs besides the following.                 cratrix Catherine II.; nor did I even behold the
countenance of a sovereign who in our days has
"Having lived two or three years almost wholly outstripped fame. On investigating, at a future peamong the English; having heard their power and rinod, the reason of such extraordinary conduct, I
riches everywhere celebrated; having contemplated became convinced that it proceeded from a certain
their great political influence, and on the other hand intolerance of character, and a hatred to every spe.
viewing Italy wholly degraded from her rank as a cies of tyranny, and which in this particular instance
nation, and the Italians divided, weak, and enslaved, attached itself to a person suspected of the most
I was ashamed of being an Italian, and wished not horrible crime-the murder of a defenceless husto possess any thing in common with this nation."-  band."-Vol. i. pp. 194, 195.
Vol. i. p. 121.
"I was naturally attached to a domestic life; but   This rage for liberty continued to possess
after having visited England at nineteen, and read him in his return through Prussia, and really
Plutarch with the greatest interest at twenty years seems to have reached its acme when it dicof age, I experienced the most insufferable repug- tated the following most preposterous pasnance at marrying and having my children born at sae,-which  we cannot help suspectn, is
indebted for part of its absurdity to the trans.
The time, however, was not yet come lator.
when study was to ballast and anchor this    "I v
agitated spirit.  Plutarch was soon thrown  the sanguinary battle fought between the Russians
aside; and the patriot and his horses gallop  and Prussians, where thousands of nlen on both




148                        LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
sides were immolated on the altar of despotism, much elevation of soul as myself, took no other reand thus escaped from the galling yoke which op. venge for my outrageous conduct, except preservpressed them. The place of their interment was, ing for several years two handkerchiefs stained with
easily recognised by its greater verdure, and by blood which had been bound round his head, and
yielding more abundant crops than the barren and which he occasionally displayed to my view. It is
unproductive soil in its immediate vicinity. On this necessary to be fully acquainted with the character
occasion, I reflected, with sorrow, that slaves seem  and manners of the Piedmontese, in order to com.
everywhere only born to fertilize the soil on which prehend the mixture of ferocity and generosity disthey vegetate."-Vol. i. pp. 196, 197.         played on both sides in this affair.
After this he meets with a beautiful ass at   "When at a more mature age, I endeavoured to
discover the cause of this violent transport of rage.
Gottingen, and regrets that his indolencepre-I became convinced that the trivial circumstance
vented him  from  availing himself of this which gave rise to it, was, so to speak, like the last
excellent opportunity for writing some im- drop poured into a vessel ready to run over. My
measurably facetious verses " upon this ren- irascible temper, which must have been rendered
counter of a German and an Italian ass, in so still more irritable by solitude and perpetual idlecelebrated an university!    After a hasty ex-,ness, required only the slightest impulse to cause it
to burst forth. Besides, I never lifted a hand
pedition to Spa, he again traverses Germany  against a  domestic, as that would have  been putting
and Holland, and returns to England in the  them on a level with myself. Neither did I ever
twenty-third year of his age; where he is employ a cane, nor any kind of weapon in order to
speedily involved in some very distressing  chastise them, though I frequently threw at them
and discreditable adventures. He engages in  any moveable that fell in my way, as many young
an intrigue with an English lady of rank, and  people do, during the first ebullitions of anger; yet
I dare to affirm that I would have approved, and
is challenged, and slightly wounded by her even esteemed the domestic who should on such
husband.  After this eclat, he consoles him- occasions have rendered me back the treatment he
self with the thought of marrying the frail received, since I never punished them as a master,
fair, with whom he is, as usual, most heroic- but only contended with them  as one man with
ally in love; when he discovers, to his infi- another."-Vol. i. pp. 244-246.
nite horror and consternation, that, previous   At Lisbon he forms an acquaintance with a
to her connection with him, she had been  literary countryman of his own, and feels, for
equally lavish of her favours to her husband's the first time of his life, a glow of admiration
groom! whose jealous resentment had led  on perusing some passages of Italian poetry.
him to watch and expose this new infidelity. From  this he returns to Spain, and, after
After many struggles between shame, resent- lounging over the whole of that kingdom, rement, and unconquerable love, he at last tears turns through France to Italy, and arrives at
himself from this sad sample of English vir- Turin in 1773.  Here he endeavours to maintue, and makes his way to Holland, bursting  tain the same unequal contest of dissipation
with  grief and  indignation; but without against ennui and conscious folly, and falls
seeming to think that there was the slightest furiously in love, for the third time, with a
occasion for any degree of contrition or self- woman of more than doubtful reputation, ten
condemnation.  From  Holland he goes to years older than himself.  Neither the inFrance, and from France to Spain-as idle, toxication of this passion, however, nor the
and more oppressed with himself than ever daily exhibition of his twelve fine horses,
-buying and caressing Andalusian horses, could repress the  shame  and indignation
and constantly ready to sink under the heavy  which he felt at thus wasting his days in inburden of existence.  At Madrid he has set glorious licentiousness; and his health was at
down an extraordinary trait of the dangerous last seriously affected by those compunctious
impetuosity of his temper.  His faithful ser- visitings of his conscience.  In 1774, while
vant, in combing his hair one day, happened  watching by his unworthy mistress in a fit of
accidentally to give him  pain by stretching  sickness, he sketched out a few scenes of a
one hair a little more than the rest, upon  dramatic work in Italian. which was thrown
which, without saying a word, he first seized  aside and forgotten immediately on her rea candlestick, and felled him  to the ground  covery; and it was not till the year after,
with a huge wound on his temple, and then  that, after many struggles, he formed the resodrew his sword to despatch him, upon his lution of detaching himself from this degradoffering to make some resistance. The sequel ing connection. The efforts which this cost
of the story is somewhat more creditable to him, and the means he adopted to ensure his
his magnanimity, than this part of it is to his own adherence to his resolution, appear alself-command.                                 together wild and extravagant to our northern
"I was shocked at the brutal excess of passion imaginations.  In the first place, he had him.
into which I had fallen. Though Elias was some- self lashed with strong cords to his elbow
what calmed, he still appeared to retain a certain chair, to prevent him  from  rushing into the
degree of resentment; yet I was not disposed to presence of the syren; and, in the next place,
display towards him the smallest distrust. Two he entirely cut off his hair, i order to make
hours after his wound was dressed I went to bed,
leaving the door open, as usual, between my apart- it impossible for him to appear with decency
ment and the chamber in which he slept; notwith-  in any society!  The first fifteen days, he
standing the remonstrance of the Spaniards, who assures us, he spent entirely: in uttering the
pointed out to me the absurdity of putting ven- most frightful groans and lamentations,"' and
geance in the power of a man whom I had so much the next in riding furiously through all the
irritated. I said even aloud to Elias, who was al- solitary places in the neghourhood. At last
ready in bed, that he might kill me, if he was so     places in the nelhbourhoo
inclined, during the night; and that I justly merited however, this frenzy of grief began to subsuch a fate. But this brave man, who possessed as side; and, most fortunately for the world and




LIFE AND WRITINGS OF VICTOR ALFIERI.                             149
the author, gave place to a passion for litera- in verse. This was the case with Charles I., which
ture, which absorbed the powers of this fiery I began to write in French prose, immediately after
spirit during the greater part of his future ex- finishing Philippe. When I had reached to about
istence.  The gperusalterp of a  w retched tragedy  the middle of the third act, my heart and my hand
itence   The perusal of a retched   tragedy  became so benumbed, that I fouud it impossible to
on the story of Cleopatra. and the striking re- hold my pen. The same thing happened in regard
semblance he thought he discovered between  to Romeo and Juliet, the whole of which I nearly
his own case anti that of Antony, first inspired  expanded, though with much labour to myself, and
him with the resolution of attempting a dra- at long intervals. On reperusing this sketch, I
matlic piece on the same subject; and, after found my enthusiasm so much lowered, that, transencountering th  most extreme difficulty from  ported with rage against myself, I could proceed no
encountering the most extreme difficulty from  further, biut threw my work into the fire." —Vol. ii.
his utter' ignorance of poetical dictions and of pp. 48-51.
pure Italian, he at last hammered out a trage- Two or three years were passed in these
dy, which was represented with tolerablepassed in these
success in 1775. From this moment his whole  bewitching studies; and, during this time,
heart was devoted. to dramatic poetry; and nine or ten tragedies, at least, were in a conliterary glory became the idol of his imagi- siderable state of forwardness.  In 1778, the
nation.                                      study of Machiavel revived all that early zeal
In entering upon this new and arduous a- for liberty which he had imbibed from the
In enteringrp                                       upon this new and arduous ca-with
reer he soon discovered that greater sacrifices perusal of Plutarch; and he composed with
were required of him  than he had hitherto great rapidity his two books of " La Tiranide;"
offered io any of the former objects of his -perhaps the most nervous and eloquent of
idolatry.  The defects of his education, and all his prose compositions. About the same
his long habits of indolence and inattention to period, his poetical studies experienced a still
every thing  connected with letters, imposed more serious interruption, from the commenceevery  hing connected withan the       ordinary labourment of his attachment to the Countess of
upon him far more than the ordinary labour Albany, the wife of the late Pretender;-an
of a literary apprenticeship.  Having never Albanyc   the wife of       the late Pretender; —an
been accustomed to the use of the pure Tus- attachment that continued to soothe or to
can, and being obliged to  speak French during   agitate all the remaining part of his existence.
I                                      M  and eings oblged to spak: Frenc duringrThis lady, who was by birth a princess of the
so many years of travelling, he found himself This lady, who  was    then   in her twentyshamefully deficient in the knowledge of that house of aStolberg was then in her twentybeautiful language, in which he proposed to fifth year, and resided with her ill-matched
enter his claims to immortality; and began, husband at Florene.  Her beauty and actherefore, a course of the most careful and complishments made, from the first,* a powcritical reading of the great authors who had erful impression on the inflammable heart of
cdorinedl it.  Dante and Petrarca were his Alfieri, guarded as it now was with the love
eadorned      opit. Dante and Petrar to them, his of glory and of literature; and the loftiness
great models of purity; and, next to them, of his character and the ardour of his'admiAriosto and Tasso; in which four writers, he            acte    d the ardour of his admigives it as his opinion, that there is to be ration, soon excited corresponding sentiments
found the perfection of every style, except in her, who had suffered for some time from
that fitted for dramatic poetry-of which, he the ill temper and gross vices of her supermore than insinuates, that his own writings annuated husbandl. Though the author takes
more  th   only existinuates that his own  ritings the trouble to assure us that " their intimacy
are the only existing example. In order to never exceeded the strictest limits of honour,;
acquire a perfect knowledge and command never exceeded the strictest limits of honourI"
acof theuire a p erfect knowlede and command  it is not difficult to understand, that it should
of their divine language, he not  only made  have aggravated the ill-humour of the old
many long visits to Tuscany, but absolutely husband; which increased, it seems so much,
interdicted himself the use of every other that the lady was at last forced to abandon
sort of readin   and a bjured for ever that that the lady  as at last forced to abandon
sorench literat aure   hich  he seems thave his society, and to take refuge with his brother,
French literature which he seems to have the Cardinal York, at Rome. To this place
always regarded with a mixture of envy and Alfieri speedily followed her; and remained
disdain.  To make amends for this, he went there, divided between love and study, for
resolutely back to the rudiments of his Latin; upwards of two years; when her holy guarand read over all the classics in that language  dian becoming scandalized at their intimacy,
with a most patient and laborious attentio. it was thought necessary for her reputation
He likewise committed to memory many thou- it was th ought necessary for her reputation
sand lines from  the authors he proposed to thatis separation he has himself described in
imitate;'and sought, with the greatest assi- the following short, but eloquent passage.
duity, the acquaintance of all the scholars and
critics that came in his way,-pestering them    "For two years I remained incapable of any
with continual queries, and with requesting  kind of study whatever, so different was my prestheir opinion upon the infinite quantity of bad
verses ws hich he continued to compose by way   * His first introduction to her, we have been inverses erchiseh he continued to compose by way formed, was in the great gallery of Florence;-a
of exercise, His two or three first tragedies circumstance which led him to signalize his admirahe composed entirely in French prose; and  tion by an extraordinary act of gallantry. As they
afterwards translated, with infinite labour, into stopped to examine the picture of Charles XII. of
Italian verse.                               Sweden, the Countess observed, that the singular
uniform in which that prince is usually painted, ap"In this manner, without any other judge than peared to her extremely becoming. Nothing more
my own feelings, I have only finished those, the was said at the time; but, in two days after, Alfieri
sketches of which I had written with energy and appeared in the streets in the exact costume of that
enthulsasm; or, if I have finished any other, I warlike sovereign,-to the utter consternation of
have at least never taken the trouble to clothe them  all the peaceful inhabitants.




150                      LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
ent forlorn state from the happiness I enjoyed prompted him to compose several odes on the
during.my late residence in Rome:-there the Villa subject of American independence, and seveStrozzi near to the warm baths of Dioclesian, af- ral miscellaneous productions of a similar
forded me a delightful retreat, where I passed my   ra ceaeous products       of a similar
mornings in study, only riding for an hour or two character:-at last; in 1786, he is permitted
through the vast solitudes which, in the neighbour- to take up his permanent abode with his mishood of Rome, invite to melancholy, meditation, tress, whom he rejoins at Alsace. and never
and poetry. In the evening, I proceeded to the afterwards abandons. In the course of the
city, and found a relaxation from study in the so- following year, they make a journey to Paris,
ciety of her who constituted the charm of my ex- with which he is nearly as much dissatisfied
istence; and, contented and happy, I returned to
my solitude, never at a later hour than eleven as on his former visit. —and makds arrangeo'clock. It was impossible to find, in the circuit ments with Didot for printing his tragedies in
of a great city, an abode more cheerful, more re- a superb form. In 1788, however, he resolves
tired,-or better suited to my taste, my character, upon making a complete edition of his whole
and my pursuits. Delightful spot! —the remem- works at Kehl; and submits, for the accombrance of which I shall ever cherish, and which modaton of his fair friend  to
through life I shall long to revisit." —Vol. ii pp. modaton of his fair friend, to take up his
121, 122.                                  residenceat Paris. There they receive intelligence of the death of her husband,
Previously to this time, his extreme love of which seems, however, to make no change in
independence, and his desire to be constantly their way of life — and there he continues
with the mistress of his affections, had in- busily employed in correcting his various
duced him to take the very romantic step of works for publication, till the year 1790, when
resigning his whole property to his sister; the first part of these memoirs closes with
reserving to himself merely an annuity of anticipations of misery from the progress of
14,000 livres, or little more than 5001. As the revolution, and professions of devoted atthis transference was made with the sanction tachment to the companion whom time had
of the King, who was very well pleased, on only rendered more dear and respected.
the whole, to get rid of so republican a sub-   The supplementary part bears date in May
ject, it was understood, upon both sides, as a 1803-but a few months prior to the death of
tacit compact of expatriation; so that, upon the author;-and brings down his history,
his removal from Rome, he had no house or though in a more summary manner, to that
fixed residence to repaid to. In this desolate period. He seems to have lived in much unand unsettled state. his passion for horses re- easiness and fear in Paris, after the corn
vived with additional fury; and he undertook mencement of the revolution; from all approa voyage to England, for the sole purpose of bation, or even toleration of which tragic
purchasing a number of those noble animals; farce, as he terms it, he exculpates himself
and devoted eight months "to the study of with much earnestness and solemnity; but,
noble heads, fine necks, and well-turned but- having vested the greater part of his fortune
totks, without once opening a book or pursuing in that country, he could not conveniently
any literary avocation."  In London, he pur- abandon it. In 1791, he and his companion
chased fourteen horses,-in relation to the made a short visit to England,; with which he
number of his tragedies!-and this whimsical was less pleased than on any former occasion,
relation frequently presenting itself to his -the damp giving him a disposition to gout,
imagination, he would say to himself with a and the late hours interfering with his habits
smile-" Thou hast gained a horse by each of study. The most remarkable incident in
tragedy!"-Truly the noble author must have this journey, occurred at its termination. As
been far gone in love, when he gave way to he was passing along the quay at Dover, on
such innocent deliration.-He conducted his his way to the packet-boat, he caught a
fourteen friends, however, with much judg- glimpse of the bewitching woman on whose
ment across the Alps; and gained great glory account he had suffered so much, in his forand notoriety at Sienna, from their daily pro- mer visit to this country nearly twenty years
cession through the streets, and the feats of before! She still looked beautiful, he says,
dexterity he exhibited in riding and driving and bestowed on him one of those enchanting
them.                                      smiles which convinced him  that he was reIn the mean time, he had printed twelve cognised. Unable to control his emotion, he
of his tragedies; and imbibed a sovereign rushed instantly aboard-hid himself below
contempt for such of his countrymen as pre- -and did not venture to look up till he was
terded to find them harsh, obscure, or affect- landed on the opposite shore. From Calais
edly sententious. In 1784, after an absence he addressed a letter to her of kind inquiry
of more than two years, he rejoined his mis- and offers of service; and received an answer
tress at Baden in Alsace; and, during a stay which, on account of the singular tone of can.
of two months with her; sketched out three dour and magnanimity which it exhibits, he
new tragedies. On his return to Italy, he has suljoined in the appendix. It is untook up his abode for a short time at Pisa, —  doubtedly a very remarkable production, and
where, in a fit of indignation at the faults of shows both a strength of mind and a kindness
Pliny's Panegyric on Trajan, he composed in of disposition which seem worthy of a nappier
five days that animated and eloquent piece fortune.
of the same name, which alone, of all his   In the end of 1792, the increasing fury of
works have fallen into our hands, has left on the revolution rendered Paris no longer a place
our minds the impression of ardent and flow- of safety for foreigners of high birth; and
ing eloquence. His rage for liberty likewise Alfieri and his countess with some difficulty




LIFE AND WRITINGS OF VICTOR ALFIERI.                           151
effected their escape from it, and established  it appears, that he was carried off by an inthemselves, with a diminished income, at his flammatory or gouty attack in his bowels,
beloved Florence. Here, with his usual im- which put a period to his existence after a
petuosity, he gave vent to his anti-revolution- few days' illness, in the month of October
ary feelings, by composing an apology for 1803. We have since learned, that the pubLouis XVI., and a short satirical view of the lication of his posthumous works, which had
French excesses, which he entitled "The been begun by the Countess of Albany at
Antigallican."  Ile then took to acting his Milan, has been stopped by the French govown plays; and. for two or three years, this ernment; and that several of the manuscripts
new passion seduced him in a good degree have, by the same authority, been committed
from literature. In 1795, however, he tried to the flames.
his hand in some satirical productions; and    We have not a great deal to add to this
began, with much zeal, to reperuse and trans- copious and extraordinary narrative. Many
late various passages from the Latin classics. of the peculiarities of Alfieri may be safely
Latin naturally led to Greek; and, in the referred to the accident of his birth, and the
forty-ninth year of his age, he set seriously to. errors of his education. His ennui, arrogance,
the study of this language. Two whole years and dissipation, are not very unlike those of
did this ardent genius dedicate to solitary many spoiled youths of condition; nor is there
drudgery, without being able to master the any thing very extraordinary in his subsesubject he had undertaken. At last, by dint quent application to study, or the turn of his
of perseverance and incredible labour, he be- first political opinions. The peculiar nature of
gan to understand a little of the easier authors; his pursuits, and the character of his literary
and, by the time he had completed his fiftieth productions, afford more curious matter for
year, succeeded in interpreting a considerable speculation.
part of Herodotus, Thucydides, and Homer.  In reflecting on the peculiar misery which
The perusal of Sophocles, in the following Alfieri and some other eminent persons are
year, impelled him to compose his last trage- recorded to have endured, while their minds
dy of Alceste in 1798. In the end of this were withheld from any worthy occupation,
year, the progress of the French armies threat- we have sometimes been tempted to conened to violate the tranquillity of his Tuscan elude, that to suffer deeply from ennui is an
retreat! and, in the spring following, upon indication of superior intellect; and that it is
the occupation of Florence, he and his friend only to minds destined for higher attainments
retired to a small habitation in the country. that the want of an object is a source of real
From this asylum, however, they returned so affliction. Upon a little reflection, however
precipitately on the retreat of the enemy, we are disposed to doubt of the soundness of
that they were surprised by them  on their this opinion; and really cannot permit all the
second invasion of Tuscany in 1800; but had shallow coxcombs who languish under the
more to suffer, it appears, from the importu- burden of existence, to take themselves, on
nate civility, than from the outrages of the our authority, for spell-bound geniuses. The
conquerors. The French general, it seems, most powerful stream, indeed, will stagnate
was a man of letters, and made several at- the most deeply, and will burst out to more
tempts to be introduced to Alfieri. When wild devastation when obstructed in its peaceevasion became impossible, the latter made ful course; but the weakly current is, upon
the following haughty but guarded reply to the whole, most liable to obstruction; and will
his warlike admirer:                       mantle and rot at least as dismally as its bet"If the general, in his official capacity, comr ters. The innumerable blockheads, in short.
mands his presence, Victor Alfieri, who never re- who betake themselves to suicide, dramsists constituted authority of any kind, will imme- drinking, or dozing in dirty nightcaps, will not
diately hasten to obey the order; but if,s any real
contrary, he requests an interview only as a private
individual, Alfieri begs leave to observe, that be- connection beteen  ennui and talent; or that
ing of a very retired turn of mind, he wishes not to fellows who are fit for nothing but mending
form any new acquaintance; and therefore entreats shoes, may not be very miserable if they are
the French general to hold him excused."-Vol. ii. unfortunately raised above their proper occupp. 286, 287.                              pation.
Under these disastrous circumstances. he   If it does frequently happen that extraorwas suddenly seized with the desire of sig- dinary and vigorous exertions are found to
nalizing himself in a new field of exertion; follow this heavy slumber of the faculties
and sketched out no fewer than six comedies the phenomenon, we think, may be explained
at once, which were nearly finished before without giving any countenance to the supthe end of 1802. His health, during this year, position, that vigorous faculties are most liable
was considerably weakened by repeated at- to such an obscuration. In the first place, the
tacks of irregular gout and inflamniatory af- relief and delight of exertion must act with
fections; and the memoir concludes with the more than usual force upon a mind which has
description of a collar and medal which he suffered from the want of it; and will be apt
had invented, as the badge of a the order of to be pushed further than in cases where the
HomLer,  which, in his late sprung ardour for exertion has been more regular. The chief
Greek literature, he had founded and en- cause, however, of the signal success which
dowed. Annexed to this record is a sort of has sometimes attended those who have been
postscript, addressed, by his friend the Abb6 rescued from ennui, we really believe to be
Caluso, to the Countess of Albany; from which their ignorance of the diflictlties they have,




152                     LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
to encounter, and that inexperience which impression of his general character; nor have
makes them venture on undertakings which we been able to find, in the whole of these
more prudent calculators would decline. We confessions, a single trait of kindness of heart,
have already noticed, more than once, the or generous philanthropy, to place in the baleffect of early study and familiarity with the ance against so many indications of selfish
best models in repressing emulation by de- ness and violence. There are proofs eno gh,
spair; and have endeavoured, upon this prin- indeed, of a firm, elevated, and manly spirt;
ciple. to explain why so many original authors but small appearance of any thing gentle, or
have been in a great degree without educa- even, in a moral sense, of any thing very relion, Now, a youth spent in lassitude and spectable. In his admiration, in short, of the
dissipation leads necessarily to a manhood of worthies of antiquity, he appears to have
ignorance and inexperience; and has all the copied their harshness and indelicacy at least
advantages, as well as the inconveniences. of as faithfully as their loftiness of character;
such a situation. If any inward feeling of and,. at the same time, to have combined with
strength, ambition, or other extraordinary im- it all the licentiousness and presumption of a
pulse; therefore, prompt such a person to at- modern Italian noble.
tempt any thing arduous, it is likely that he   We have been somewhat perplexed with
will go about it with all that rash and vehe- his politics. After speaking as we have seen,
ment courage which results from unconscious- of the mild goyernment of the kings of Sarness of the obstacles that are to be overcome: dinia,-after adding that, "when he had read
and it is needless to say how often success is Plutarch and visited England, he felt the most
ensured by this confident and fortunate auda- unsurmountable repugnance at marrying. or
city. Thus Alfieri, in the outset of his literary having his children born at Turin," —after recareer, ran his head against dramatic poetry, cording that a monarch is a master, and a
almost before he knew what was meant either subject a slave.-and "' that he shed tears of
by poetry or the drama; and dashed out a mingled grief and rage at having been born
tragedy while but imperfectly acquainted in such a state as Piedmont;"-after all this
with the language in which he was writing, -after giving up his estates to escape from
and utterly ignorant either of the rules that this bondage, and after writing his books on
had been delivered, or the models which had the Tiranide, and his odes on American libbeen created by the genius of his great prede- erty,-we really were prepared to find him
cessors. Had he been trained up from his taking the popular side, at the outset at least
early youth in fearful veneration for these of the French Revolution, and exulting in the
rules and these models, it is certain that he downfal of one of those hateful despotisms
would have resisted the impulse which led against the whole system of which he had
him to place himself, with so little prepara- previously inveighed with no extraordinary
tion, within their danger; and most probable moderation. Instead of this, however, we
that he would never have thought himself find him abusing the revolutionists, and exqualified to answer the test they required of tolling their opponents with all the zeal of a
him. In giving way, however, to this pro- professed antijacobin,-writing an eulogium
pensity, with all the thoughtless freedom and on the dethroned monarch like Mr. Pybus,
vehemence which had characterised his other and an Antigallican like Peter Porcupine.
indulgences, he found himself suddenly em- Now, we are certainly very far from saying,
barked in an unexpected undertaking, and in that a true friend of liberty might not exesight of unexpected distinction. The success crate the proceedings of the French revoluhe had obtained with so little knowledge of tionists; but a professed hater of royalty
the subject, tempted him to acquire what was might have felt more indulgence for the new
wanting to deserve it; and justified hopes and republic; such a crazy zealot for liberty, as
stimulated exertions which earlier reflection Alfieri showed himself in Italy, both by his
would, in all probability, have for ever pre-. writings and his conduct, might well have
vented.                                  been carried away by that promise of emanThe morality of Alfieri seems to have been cipation to France, which deluded sounder
at least as relaxed as that of the degenerate heads than his in all the countries of Europe.
nobles, whom in all other things he professed There are two keys, we think, in the work
to reprobate and despise. He confesses, with- before us, to this apparent inconsistency.
out the slightest appearance of contrition, that Alfieri, with all his abhorrence of tyrants,
his general intercourse with women iwas pro- was, in his heart, a great lover of aristocracy'
fligate in the extreme; and has detailed the and, he had a great spite and antipathy at
particulars of three several intrigues with the French nation, collectively and individmarried women, without once appearing to ually.
Imagine that they could require any apology   Though professedly a republican, it is easy
or expiation. On the contrary, while record- to see, that the republic he wanted was one
in'g the deplorable consequences of one of on the Roman model,-where there were
them, he observes, with great composure, Patricians as well as Plebeians, and where a
that it was distressing to him fo contemplate man of great talents had even a good chance
a degradation, of which he had, " though in- of being one day appointed Dictator. He did
nocently," been the occasion. The general not admire kings indeed,-because he did not
arrogance of his manners, too, and the occa- happen to be born one, and because they
sional brutality of his conduct towards his were the only beings to whom he was born
inferiors, are far from giving us an amiable inferior: but he had the utmost veneration




LIFE AND WRITINGS OF VICTOR ALFIERI.                           153
for nobles,-because fortune had placed him  shall, in the mean time, confine ourselves to
in that order, and because the power and dis- a very few observations suggested by the
tinction which belonged to it were agreeable style, and character of the tragedies with
to him, anti, he thought, would be exercised  which we have been for some time acfor the good of his inferiors. When he heard quainted.
that Voltaire had written a tragedy on the   These pieces approach much nearer to the
story of Brutus, he fell into a great passion, ancient Grecian model. than any other modand exclaimed, that the subject was too lofty ern production with which we are acquaintfor "a French plebeian, who, during twenty ed; in the simplicity of the plot, the fewness
years, had subscribed himself gentleman in of the persons, the directness of the action
ordinary to the King!                     and the uniformity and elaborate gravity o?
This love of aristocracy, however, will not the composition. Infinitely less declamatory
explain the defence of monarchy and the abuse than the French tragedies, they have less
of republics, which formed the substance of his brilliancy and variety, and a deeper tone of
Antigallican. But the truth is, that he was dignity and nature. As'they have not adoptantigallican from his youth up; and would ed the choral songs of the Greek stage, hownever have forgiven that nation, if they had ever; they are, on the whole, less poetical
succeeded in establishing a free government, than those ancient compositions; although
-especially while Italy was in bondage. they are worked throughout with a fine and
The contempt which Voltaire had expressed careful hand, and diligently purified from
for Italian literature, and the general degra- every thing ignoble or feeble in the expresdation into which the national character had sion. The author's anxiety to keep clear of
fallen, had sunk deep into his fierce and figures of mere ostentation, and to exclude all
haughty spirit, and inspired him  with an showpieces of fine writing in a dialogue of
antipathy towards that people by whom his deep interest or impetuous passion, has beown countrymen had been subdued, ridiculed, traved him, on some occasions, into too senand outshone. This paltry and vindictive feel- tentious and strained, a diction, and given an
ing leads him, throughout this whole work, air of labour and heaviness to many parts of
to speak of them in.the most unjust and un- his composition. He has felt, perhaps a little
candid terms.  There may be some truth in too constantly, that the cardinal virtue of a
his remarks on the mean and meagre articu- dramatic writer is to keep his personages to
lation of their language, and on their "horri- the business and the concerns that lie before
ble u, with their thin lips drawn in to pro- them; and by no means to let them turn to
nounce it, as if they were blowing hot soup." moral philosophers, or rhetorical describers of
Nay, we could even excuse the nationality their own emotions. But, in his zealous adwhich leads him to declare, that "'he would herence to this good maxim, he seems somerather be the author of ten good Italian verses, times to have forgotten, that certain passions
than of volumes written in English or French, are declamatory in nature as well as on the
or any such harsh and unharmonious jargon.-  stage; and that, at any rate, they do not all
though their cannon and their armies should vent themselves in concise and pithy sayings,
continue to render these languages fashion- but run occasionally into hyperbole and amable."  But we cannot believe in the sinceri- plification. As It Is the great excellence, so
ty of an amorous Italian, who declares, that it is occasionally the chief fault of Alfieri's
he never could get through the first volume dialogue, that every word is honestly emof Rousseau's H6loise; or of a modern author ployed to help forward the action of the play,
of regular dramas, who professes to see nothing by serious argument, necessary narrative, or
at all admirable in the tragedies of Racine or the direct expression  of natural emotion.
Voltaire. It is evident to us, that he grudged There are no excursions or digressions —no
those great writers the glory that was due to episodical conversations, —and none but the
them, out of a vindictive feeling of national most brief moralizings. This gives a certain
resentment' and that, for the same reason, air of solidity to the whole structure of the
he grudged the French nation the freedom. in piece, that is apt to prove oppressive to an orwhich he would otherwise have been among dinary reader, and reduces the entire drama
the first to believe and to exult.         to too great uniformity.
It only remains to say a word or two of the   We make these remarks chiefly with a refliterary productions of this extraordinary per- erence to French tragedy. For our own
son; —a theme, however interesting and at- part, we believe that those who are duly sentractive, upon which we can scarcely pretend sible of the merits of Shakespeare, will never
to enter on the present occasion. We have be much struck with any other dramatical
not yet been able to procure a complete copy compositions. There are no other plays. inof the works of Alfieri; and, even of those deed, that paint human nature, —that strike
which have been lately transmitted to us, we off the characters of men with all the freshA-ill confess that a considerable portion re- ness and sharpness of the original,-and
mains to be perused. We have seen enough, speak the language of all the passions, not
however, to satisfy us that they are deserving like a mimic, but an echo-neither softer nor
of a careful analysis, and that a free and en- louder, nor differently modulated from  the
lightened estimate of their merit may be ren- spontaneous utterance of the heart. In these
dered both interesting and instructive to the respects he disdains all comparison with Algreater part of our readers. We hope soon to fieri, or with any other mortal: nor is it fair,
be in a condition to attempt this task; and perhaps, to suggest a comparison, where no




154                     LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
rivalry can be imagined. Alfieri, like all the offer any opinion. They are considered, in
continental dramatists, considers a tragedy as Italy, we believe, as the purest specimens of
a poem. In England, we look upon it rather i the favella Toscana that late ages have pro.
as a representation of character and passion. duced. To us they certainly seem to want
With them, of course, the style and diction,  something of that flow and sweetness to which
and the congruity and proportions of the we have been accustomed in Italian poetry,
piece, are the main objects — with us, the and to be formed rather upon the model of
truth and the force of the imitation. It is suf- Dante than of Petrarca.. At all events, it is
ficient for them, if there be character and obvious that the style is highly elaborate and
action enough to prevent the composition from  artificial; and that the author is constantly
languishing, and to give spirit and propriety striving to give it a sort of factitious force and
to the polished dialogue of which it consists;! energy, by the use of condensed and em-we are satisfied, if there be management phatic expressions, interrogatories antitheses,
enough in the story not to shock credibility and short and inverted sentences. In all
entirely, and beauty and polish enough in the these respects, as well as in the chastised
diction to exclude disgust or derision. In his gravity of the sentiments, and the temperance
own way, Alfieri, we think, is excellent. His and propriety of all the delineations of pasfables are all admirably contrived and com- sion, these pieces are exactly the reverse of
pletely developed; his dialogue is copious and what we should have expected from the fiery,
progressive; and his characters all deliver fickle, and impatient character of the author.
natural sentiments with great beauty, and From all that Alfieri has told us of himself,
often with great force of expression. In our we should have expected to find in his plays
eyes, however, it is a fault that the fable is too great vehemence and irregular eloquencesimple, and the incidents too scanty; and that sublime and extravagant sentiments-pasall the characters express themselves with sions rising to frenzy-and poetry swelling
equal felicity, and urge their opposite views into bombast. Instead of this we have a suband pretensions with equal skill and plausi- dued and concise representation of energetic
bility. We see at once, that an ingenious discourses-passions, not loud but deep-and
author has versified the sum of a dialogue; a style so severely correct and scrupulously
and never, for a moment, imagine that we pure, as to indicate, even to unskilf'ul eyes,
hear the realpersons contending. There may the great labour which must have been bebe more eloquence and dignity in this style stowed on its purification. No characters can
of dramatising; —there is infinitely more de- be more different than that which we should
ception in ours.                          infer from reading the tragedies of Alfieri, and
With regard to the diction of these pieces, that which he has assigned to himself in these
it is not for tramontane critics to presume to authentic memoirs.
(2Lprit, 18U3.)
The Life and Posthumous Writings of WILLIAM CoWPER, Esq. With an Introductory Letter
to the Right Honourable Earl Cowper. By WILLIAM HAYLEY, Esq. 2 vols. 4to. Chichester: 1803.
THns book is too long; but it is composed features of the person it intends to commemoon a plan that makes prolixity unavoidable. rate. It is a plan, however, that requires so
Instead of an account of the poet's life, and a much room for its execution, and consequently
view of his character and performances, the so much money and so much leisure in those
biographer has laid before the public a large who wish to be masters of it, that it ought to
selection from his private correspondence, and be reserved, we conceive, for those great and
merely inserted as much narrative between eminent characters that are likely to excite
each series of letters, as was necessary to pre- an interest among all' orders and generations
serve their connection, and make the subject of mankind. While the biography of Shake.
of them intelligible.                     speare and Bacon shrinks into the corner of
This scheme of biography, which was first an octavo, we can scarcely help wondering
introduced, we believe, by Mason, in his life that the history of the sequestered life and
of Gray, has many evident advantages in solitary studies of Cowper should have expoint of liveliness of colouring, and fidelity tended into two quarto volumes.
ofr epresentation. It is somethingintermediate   The little Mr. Hayley writes in these volbetween the egotism of confessions, and the umes is by no means well written; though
questionable narrative of a surviving friends certainly distinguished by a very amiable
who must be partial, and may be mistaken: gentleness of temper, and the strongest apIt enables the reader to judge for himself, pearance of sincere veneration and affection
from materials that were not provided for the for the departed friend to whose memory it is
purpose of determining his judgment; and consecrated. It will be very hard, too, if they
holds up to him, instead of a flattering or un- do not become popular; as Mr. Hayley seems
faithful portrait, the living lineaments and to have exerted himself to conciliate readers




HAYLEY'S LIFE OF COWPER.                                    155
of every description, not only by the most dence, if we rightly understand his biographer,
lavish and indiscriminate praise of every in- that was the immediate cause of the ilnfort
dividual he has occasion to mention, but by a tunate derangement that overclouded the re.
general spirit of approbation and indulgence mainder of his life.  In his thirty-first year,
towards every practice and opinion which he his friends procured for him  the office of
has foul-pd it necessary to speak of.  Among  reading-clerk to the House of Lords; but the
the othdr symptoms of book making which this idea of reading in public, was the source of
publication contains, we can scarcely forbear such torture and apprehension to him, that hl;
reckonipg the expressions of this too obsequious very soon resigned that place, and had interest
and unoffending philanthropy.                  enough to exchange it for that of clerk of the
The constitutional shyness and diffidence journals, which was supposed to require no
of Cowper appeared in his earliest childhood, personal attendance.  An unlucky dispute in
and was not subdued in any degree by the Parliament, however, made it necessary for
bustle and contention of a Westminster edu- him  to appear in his place; and the consecation; where, though he acquired a consid- quences of this requisition are stated by Mr.
erable portion of classical learning, he has Hayley; in the following, not very lucid, achimself declared, that " he was never able to count.
raise his eye above the shoe-buckles of the
elder boys, who tyrannized over him." From       "His terrors on this occasion arose to such an
astonishing height, that they utterly overwhelmed
this seminary, he seems to have passed, with- his reason: for although he had endeavoured to
out any academical preparation, into the So- prepare himself for his public duty, by attending
ciety of the Inner Temple, where he continued  closely at the office for several months, to examine
to reside to the age of thirty-three.  Neither the parliamentary journals, his application was reinhis biographer nor his letters give any satis- dered useless by that excess of' diffidence, which
factory account of the way in which this large  made him conceive, that whatever knowledge he
factory account oftheWayiwmight previously acquire, it would all forsake him
and most important part of his life was spent. at the bar of the House. This distressing appreAlthough Lord Thurlow was one of his most hension increased to such a degree, as the time for
intimate associates, it is certain that he never his appearance approached, that when the day so
made any proficiency in the study of the law; anxiously dreaded arrived, he was unable to make
and the few slight pieces of composition, in  the experiment. The very friends, who called on
which he appears to have been engaged in  him for the purpose of attending him to the House
hichs interval ars to have b     een   engaged in of Lords, acquiesced in the cruel necessity of relinthis interval. are but a, scanty produce for fif- quishing the prospect of a station so severely forteen years of literary leisure.  That a part of midable to a frame of such singular sensibility."
those years was very idly spent, indeed, ap-   "TI'he conflict between the wishes of just affecpears from  his own account of them.  In a tionate ambition, and the terrors of diffidence, so
letter to his cousin, in 1786, he says,        entirely overwhelmed his health and faculties, that
after two learned and benevolent divines (Mr. John
" I did actually live three years with Mr. Chap- Cowper, his brother, and the celebrated Mr. Marman, a solicitor; that is to say, I slept three years tin Madan, his first cousin) had vainly endeavoured
in his house; but I lived, that is to say, I spent my  to establish a lasting tranquillity in his mind, by
days in Southampton Row, as you very well re- friendly and religious conversation, it was found
member. There was I, and the future Lord Chan- necessary to remove him to St. Alban's, where he
cellor, constantly employed, from morning to night, resided a considerable time, under the care of that
in giggling, and making giggle, instead of studying  eminent physician Dr. Cotton, a scholar and a poet,
the law." —Vol. i. p. 178.                     who added to many accomplishments a peculiar
lsweetness of manners, in very advanced life, when
And in a more serious letter to Mr. Rose, I had the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with
he makes the following just observations.      him."-Vol. i. pp. T5, 26.
"The colour of our whole life is generally such
as the three or four first years, in which we are our   In this melancholy state he continued for
own masters, make it. Then it is that we may be upwards of a year, when his mind began
said to shape our own destiny, and to treasure up slowly to emerge from  the depression under
for ourselves a series of future successes or disap- which it had laboured, and to seek for conpointments. Had I employed my time as wisely as solation in the study of the Scriptures, and
you, in a situation very similar to yours, I had never
been a poet perhaps, but I might by this time have other religious occupations. In the city of
acquired a character of more importance in soci- Huntingdon, to which he had been removed
ety; a situation in which my friends would have in his illness, he now formed an acquaintance
been better pleased to see me. But three years with the family of the Reverend Mr. Unwin,
misspent in an attorney's office, were almost of                          ter part of his after
course followed by several more equally misspent with whose widow the grea       of  
in the Temple; and the consequence has been, as life was passed.  The series of letters which
the Italian epitaph says, "' Sto qui."-The only use Mr. Hayley has introduced in this place, are
I      can make of myself now, at least the best,'is to altogether of a devotional cast, and bear eviserve in terrorerm to others, when occasion may dent symptoms of continuing depression and
happen to offer, that they may escape (so far as my anxiety.  He talks a great deal of his converadmonitions can have any weight with them) my sion                   and worldliness of his
folly and my fate."-1Vol. i. pp. 333, 334.     former life, and of the grace which had at last
Neither the idleness of this period. however, been vouchsafed to him; and seems so entirely
nor the gaiety in which it appears to have  and constantly absorbed in those awful medibeen wasted, had corrected that radical defect tations, as to consider not only the occupations
in his constitution, by which he was disabled  of his earlier days, but all temporal business
from making any public display of his acqui- or amusement, as utterly unworthy of his at6itions: and' it was the excess of this diffi- tention. We do not think it necessary to make




156                        LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
any extract from this part of the publication; pieces. When I can find no other occupation, I
and perhaps Mr. Hayley might have spared  think; and when I think, I am very apt to do it in
some of the methodistical raptures and dissert- rhyme. Hence it comes to pass, that the season
ations that are contained in those letters. of the year which generally pinches off the flowers
ations that are contained in those letters: of poetry, unfolds mine, such as they are, and
without any injury either to the memory of crowns me with a winter garland. In this respect,
his friend, or the reputation of his own per- therefore, I and my contemporary bards are by no
tformance.                                     means upon a par. They write when the delightful
After the death of Mr. Unwin, he retired  influence of fine weather, fine prospects, and a brisk
with his widlow  to the village of Olney in  motion of the animal spirits, make poetry almost the
sam e piouslanguage of nature; and I, when icicles depend from
1768. where he continued in the same pious all the leaves of the Parnassian laurel, and when a
and sequestered habits of life till the year reasonable man would as little expect to succeed in
1772, when a second and more protracted  verse, as to hear a blackbird whistle. This must
visitation of the same tremendous malady ob- be my apology to you for whatever want of fire and
scured his faculties for a melancholy period animation you may observe in what you wil shortly
of eight year; d g      have the perusal of. As to the public, if' they like
by Mihtyers. dunin with a csanc  antender  me not, there is no remedy."-Vol. i. pp. 105, 10io.
by Mrs. Unwin with a constancy and tenderness of affection, which it was the great busi-   The success of his first volume, which ap
ness of his after life to repay.  In 1780, he peared in the end of the year 1781, was by
began gradually to recover; and in a letter no means such as to encourage him to proceed
of that year to his cousin, describes hitnself to a second; and, indeed, it seems nQw  to be
iii this manner:                               admitted by every body but Mr. Hayley, that
it was not well calculated for becoming popu" You see me sixteen years older, at the least, lar.  Too serious for the general reader it
than when I saw you last; but the effects of time had too much satire,  it and criticism  to be
seem to have taken place rather on the outside of
my head than within it. What was brown is be- a favourite with the devout and enthusiastic,
come grey, but what was foolish remains foolish the principal poems were also too long ant
still. Green fruit must rot before it ripens, if the desultory, and the versification throughout was
season is such as to afford it nothing but cold winds more harsh and negligent, than the public had
and dark clouds, that interrupt every ray of sunshine. yet been accustomed to.  The book therefore
My days steal away silently, and march on (as poor
mad King Lear would have made his soldiers
march) as if they were shod with felt!  Not so of the author brought all his works into notice;
silently but that I hear them; yet were it not that I and then, indeed, it was discovered, that it
am always listening to their flight, having no in-  contained many traits of strong and original
firmity that I had not when I was much younger, I genius and a richness of idiomatical phraseshould deceive myself with an imagination that I ology, that has been but seldom equalled in
am still youpg."-Vol. i. pp. 96, 97.           ourlanguage.
One of the first applications of his returning    In the end of this year, Cowper formed an
powers was to the taming and education of accidental acquaintance with the widow of Sir
the three young hares, which he has since Thomas Austen, which, in spite of his insupercelebrated in his poetry: and, very soon after, able shyness, ripened gradually into a mutual
the solicitations of his affectionate companion  and cordial friendship, and was the immediate
first induced him to prepare some moral pieces source of some of his happiest hours, and
for publication, in the hope of giving a salu- most celebrated productions.-The facetious
tary employment to his mind. At the age of history of "John Gilpin" arose from  a sugfifty, therefore, and at a distance from all the gestion of that lady, in circumstances and in
excitements that emulation and ambition usu- a way that marks the perilous and moody
ally hold out to a poet, Cowper began to write state of Cowper's understanding more strikfor the public, with the view of diverting his ingly perhaps than any general description.
own melancholy, and doing service to the
own melancholy, and  doing service to the    "It happened one afternoon, in those years,
cause of morality.  Whatever effect his pub- when his accomplished friend Lady Austen made a
lications had on the world, the composition  part of his little eveninrg circle, that she observed
of them  certainly had a most beneficial one him sinking into increasing dejection; it was her
on himself.  In a letter to his cousin he says, custom, on these occasions, to try all the resources
of her sprightly powers for his immediate relief.
"Dejection of spirits, which I suppose may have She told him the story of John Gilpin (which had
prevented many a man from becoming an author, been treasured in her memory from her childhood) to
made me one. I find constant employment neces- dissipate the gloom of the passing hour. Its effects
sary, and therefore take care to be constantly em- on the fancy of Cowper had the air of enchantment.
ployed.-Manual occupations do not engage the He informed her the next morning, that convulsions
mind sufficiently, as I know by experience, having of laughter, brought on by his recollection of her
tried many. But composition, especially of verse, stor, had kept him waking during the greatest part
absorbs it wholly. I write, therefore, generally  of the night! and that he had turned it into a ballad.
three hours in a morning, and in an evening I -So arose the pleasant poem of John Gilpin."transcribe. I read also, but less than I write." —  Vol. i. pp. 128, 129.
Vol. i. p. 147.
In the course of the year 1783, however,
There is another passage in which he talks Lady Austen was fortunate enough to direct
of his performance in so light and easy a the poet to a work of much greater importance;
manner. and assumes so much of the pleasing, and to engage him, from  a very accidental
though antiquated language of Pope and Ad- circumstance, in the composition of "The
dison, that we cannot resist extracting it.    Task," by far the best and the most popular
"My labours are principally the production of of all his performances. The anecdote, which
last winter; all indeed, except a few of the minor is such as the introduction of that poeni has




HAYLEY'S LIFE OF COWPER.                                    15'
probably suggested to most readers, is given  translation, about this time,. seem  to have
in this manner by Mr. Hayley.                  drawn from  him  the following curious and
This lady happened, as an admirer of Milton, unaffected delineation of his own thoughts and
to be partial to blank verse, and often solicited her feelings.
poetical friend to try his powers in that species of
composition. After repeated solicitation, he promised her, if se would furnish the subject, to com   menced an author, I am most abundantly desirous
ply with her request.' Oh!' she replied,' you canto succeed as such. I have (what perhaps you little
never be in want of a subject,-you can write upon  suspect me of) in my  nature, an infinite share of amany-write upon this sofa!' T'he poet obeyed her bitiont. But with it, I have at the same time, as
command; and, from the lively repartee of familiar you well know, an equal share of diffidence. To
conversation, arose a poem of maty thousaldverses, this combination of opposite qualities it has been
unexampled, perhaps, both in its origin and excel- owing, that, till lately, I stole through life without
lence."'-Vol. i. p. 135.                       undertaking any thing, yet always wishing to distinguish myself. At last I ventured: ventured, too,
This extraordinary production was finished  in the only path that, at so late a period, was yet
in less than a year, and became extremely  open to me; and I am determined, if God hath not
popular from the very first month of its publica- determined otherwise, to work my way through
tion. The charm of reputation, however, coul~d tthe obscurity that hath been so long my portion,
tion.  The charm of reputation, howevp, could  into notice." —Vol. i. p. 190.
not draw Cowper from his seclusion; and his
solitude became still more dreary about this    As he advanced in his work, however, he
period, by the cessation of his intercourse  seems to have become better pleased with
with Lady Austen, with whom  certain little  the execution of it; and in the year 1790,
jealousies on the part of Mrs. Unwin (which  addresses to his cousin the followinlg candid
the. biographer might as well.have passed  and interesting observations: though we canover in silence) obliged him  to renounce any  not but regret that we have not some specifarther connection.  Besides the Task and  mens at least of what he calls the quaint and
John Gilpin, he appears to have composed  antiquated style of our earlier poets: and are
several smaller poems for this lady, which are  not without our suspicions that we should
published, for the first time, in the work now  have liked it better than that which he ultibefore us.  We were particularly struck with  mately adopted.
a ballad on the unfortunate loss of the Royal
George of which the following stanzas may    *'"To say the truth, 1 have now no fears about
George, of which the following stanzas may  the success of. my translation, though in time past
serve as a specimen.                           I have had many. I knew there was a style somer" Toll for the brave!                where, could I but find it, in which Homer ought
Brave Kempenfelt is gone;         to be rendered, and which alone wvouild suit him.
His last seafight is f ught;          Long time I blundered about it, ere I could attain
His work of glory done.            to any decided judgment on the matter. At first I
was betrayed, by a desire of accommodating my
"It was not in the battle;             language to the simplicity of his, into much of the
No tempest gave the shock;         quaintness that belonged to our writers of the fifShe sprang no fatal leak;            teenth century. In the course of many revisals, 1
She ran upon no rock.              have delivered myself' from this evil, I believe, en" His sword was in its sheath;         tirely: but I have done it slowly, and as a man
His fingers held the pen,          separates himself frotn his mistress, when he is
Whien Kempenfelt went down,           going to marry. I had so strong a predilection in
With twice four hundred men.       favour of this style, at first, that I was crazed to
VWol. i     127v.  ~find that others were not as much enamoured with
Vol. it as myself. At every passage of that sort, which
The same year that saw the conclusion of  I obliterated, I groaned bitterly, and said to myself,'"The Task," found Cowper engaged in the  I am spoiling my work to please those who have
translation of Homer.  This laborious under- no taste for the simple graces of antiquity. But in
taking is said, by Mr. Hayley, to have been  measure, as I adopted a more modern phraseology,
)aking, is said by Mr. Hayley, to have been  I became a convert to their opinion: and in the last
first suggested to him by Lady Austen also; revisal, which I am now' making, am not sensible
though there is nothing in the correspondence  of having spared a single expression of the obsolete
he has published, that seems to countenance  kind. I see my work so much improved by this
that idea. The work was pretty far advanced  alteration, that I am filled with wonder at my own
before he appears to have confided the secret backwardness to assent to the necessity of it; and
the more, when I consider, that Milton, with
of it to any one.  In a letter to Mr. Hill, he  whose manner I account myself intimately acexplains his design in this manner:            quainted, is never quaint, never twangs through the
"' Knowing it to have been universally the opinion  nose, but is every where grand and elegant, without
of the literati, ever since they have allowed them- resorting to musty antiquity for his beauties.  On
selves to consider the matter coolly, that a transla- the contrary, he took a long stride forward, left the
tion, properly so called, of Homer, is, notwithstand- language of his own day far behind him, and anticing ~what  Pope has done, adesideratum  in the ipated the expressions of a century yet to come."
English language, it struck me, that an attempt to -Vol. i. pp. 360, 361.
supply the deficiency would be an honourable one;    The translation was finished in the year
and having made myself, in former years, some- 1791 and published by subscription immewhat critically a master of the original, I was, by  1791, and published by subscription i
this double translation, induced to make the attempt diately after. Several applications were made
myself. I am  now translating into blank verse to the University of Oxford for the honour of
the last book of the Iliad, and mean to publish by their subscription, but without success. Their
subscription."-Vol. i. p. 154.                 answer was, "That they subscribed.to nothSome observations that were made by Dr. ing.   " It seems not a little extraordinary.')
Maty and others upon a specimen of his I says the offended poet on this occasion "that




158 ~                       LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
persons so nobly patronised themselves on the  wonder at his taste, and be so too."-Vol. i. pp.
score of literature, should resolve to give no  161-163.
encouragement to it in return."  We think    The following is very much in the same
so too.                                        style.
The period that elapsed from  the publica-   "Th
tion of his first volume in 1781, to that of his    iThis house, accordingly, since it has been octionof his first volume in 178 1, to that of his kcupied by us and our AIeubles, is as much superior
Homer in 1791, seems to have been by far to what it was when you saw it as you can imagine.
the happiest and most brilliant part of Cow- Tlhe parlour is even elegant. When I say that the
per's existence.  It was not only animated by  parlour is elegant, I do not mean to insinuate that
the vigorous and successful exertions in which  the study is not so. It is neat, warm, and silent,
he was engaged, but enlivened, in a very  and a much better study than I deserve, if I do not
produce in it an incomparable translation of Homer.
pleasing manner, by the correspondence and  I think every day of those lines of Milton, and con.
society of his cousin, Lady Hesketh, who re- gratulitte myself on having obtained, before I am
newed, about this time, an intimacy that quite superannuated, what he seems not to have
seeIns to have endeared the earlier days of  hoped for sooner.
their childhood.  In his letters to this lady'And may at length my weary age
we have found the most interesting traits of Find out the peaceful hermitage.'
his simple and affectionate  character com- For if it is not a hermitage, at least it is a much
his simpleth and     affectionate characterss, a    vivaco- better thing; and you must always understand,
bined with an innocent playfulness, and viva- my dear, that when poets talk of cottages, hermit.
city, that charms the more, when contrasted  ages, and such like things, they mean a house with
with the gloom  and horror to which it suc- six sashes in front, two comfortable parlours, a
ceeded, and -by which it was unfortunately  smart staircase, and three bedchambers of conve.
replaced.  Our limits will not allow  us to  nient dimensions; in short, exactly such a house
make many extracts from  this part of the  as this."-Vol. i. pp. 227, 228.
publication.  We insert, however, the follow-    In another letter, in a graver humour, he
ing delightful letter, in answer to one from  says —
Lady Ijesketh, promising to pay him  a visit   "I am almost the only person at Weston, known
during the summer.                             to you, who have enjoyed tolerable health this
" I shall see you again!-I shall hear your voice-  winter. In your next letter give us some account
we shall take walks together: I will show you my  of your own state of health, for I have had my
prospects, the hovel, the alcove, the Ouse, and its anxieties about vou. The winter has been mild;
banks, every thing that I have. described. I antici- but our winters are in general such. that, when a
pate the pleasure of those days not very far distant, friend leaves us in the beginning of that season, I
and feel a part of it at this moment. Talk not of' always feel in my heart a perhaps, importing that
an inn; mention it not for your life. We have we have possibly met for the last time, and that the
never had so many visitors, bult we could easily ac- robins may whistle on the grave of one of us before
commodate them  all, though we have received  the return of summer.
Unwin, and his wife, and his sister, and his son,   " Many thanks for the cuckow, which arrived
all at once. My dear, I will not let you come till perfectly safe, and goes well, to the amusement
the end of May, or beginning of June, because be- and amazement of all who hear it. Hannah lies
fore that time my green-house will not be ready to awake to hear it; and I am not sure that we have
receive us; and it is the only pleasant room be- not others in the house that admire his music as
longing to us. When the plants go out, we go in. much as she."-Vol. i. p. 331.
I line it with mats, and spread the floor with mats,   In the following passage, we have all the
and there you shall sit with a bed of mignonette at calmness of a sequesteed  and good-natured
your side, and a hedge of honeysuckles, roses, and calmness of a sequestered and good-natured
Jesmine; and I will make you a bouquet of myrtle man, and we doubt whether there was another
every day. Sooner than the time I mention, the educated and reflecting individual to be found
country will not be in complete beauty. And I in the kingdom, who could think and speak
will tell you what you shall find at your first en- so dispassionately of the events which were
trance. Imprimis, As soon as you have entered
the vestibule, if you cast a look on either side of passing in 1792.
you, you shall see on the right hand a box of my    "The French, who, like all lively folks, are exmaking. It is the box in which have been lodged treme in every thing, are such in their zeal for
all my hares, and in which lodges puss at present. freedom; and if it were possible to make so noble
But he, poor fellow, is worn out with age, and pro. a cause ridiculous, their manner of promoting it
mises to die before you can see him. On the right could not fail to do so. Princes and peers reduced
hand stands a cupboard, the work of the same to plain gentlemanship, and gentles reduced to a
author. It was once a dove-cage, but I transform- level with their own lackeys, are excesses of which
ed it. Opposite to you stands a table, which I also they will repent hereafter. Difference of rank and
made; but a merciless servant having scrubbed it subordination are, I believe, of God's appointment,
until it became paralytic, it serves no purposenow  and, consequently, essential to the well-being of
but of ornament; and all my clean shoes stand  society: but what we mean by fanaticism in reli-.
under it. On the left hand, at the farther end of gion, is exactly that which animates their politics;
this superb vestibule, you will find the door of the and, unless time should sober them, they will,
parlour into which I shall conduct you, and where after all, be an unhappy people. Perhaps it deI will introduce you to Mrs. Unwin (unless we serves not much to be wondered at, that at their
should meet her before),-and where we will be as first escape from tyrannic shackles, they should
happy as the day is long! Order yourself, my act extravagantly, and treat their kings as they hate
cousin, to the Swan at 1;ewport, and there you sometimes treated their idols. To these, however,
shall find me ready to conduct you to Olney.   they are reconciled in due time again; but their
" My dear, I have told Homer what you say respect for monarchy is at an end. They want
about casks and urns: and have asked him whether nothing now but a little English sobriety, and that
he is sure that it is a cask in which Jupiter keeps they want extremely. I heartily wish them some
his wine. liHe swears that it is a cask, and that it wit in their anger; for it were great pity that so
will never be any thing better than a cask to eternity. many millions should be miserable for want of it."
So if the god is content with it, we must even -Vol. i. p. 379.




HAYLEY'S LIFE OF COWPER.                                  159
Homer was scarcely finished, when a pro- cility were beginning to be painfully visible; nor
posal was made to the indefatigable translator, can nature present a spectacle more truly pitiable,
to engage in a magnificent edition of Milton, than imbecility in such a shape, eagerly grasping
for which he was to furnish a version of his for dominion, which it knows not either how to
retain, or how to relinquish." —Vol. ii. pp. 161,162.
Latin and Italian poetry, and a critical com-   From  a part of these evils however, the
mentary upon his whole works.  Mr. Hayley    From  a part of these evils however, the
had, at this time, undertaken to write a life  oet was relieved, by the generous compasof Milton: and some groundless reports, as sion of Lady Hesketh, who nobly took upon
to an intended rivalry between him and Cow- herself the task of superintending this melan
per, led to a friendly explanation, and to a choly household. We will not withhold from
very cordial and affectionate intimnacy.  In our readers the encomium  she has so well
the year 1792, Mr. Hayley paid a visit to his earned from the biographer.
newly acquired friend at Weston; and hap-   " Those only, who have lived with the superpened to be providentially present with him  annuated and melancholy, can properly appreciate
when tohe agony  which he experientced frow m  the value of such magnanimous friendship; or perwhen the  siagony whapayich he experienced frm  fectly apprehend, what personal sufferings it must
the sight of a paralytic attack upon Mrs. Un- cost the mortal who exerts it, if that mortal has
win; had very nearly affected his understand- received from  nature a frame of compassionate
ing.  The anxious attention of his friend, and  sensibility.  The lady, to whom I allude, has felt
the gradual recovery of the unfortunate pa- but too severely, in her own health, the heavy tax
tient, prevented any very calamitous effect that mortality is forced to pay for a resolute persefrom this unhappy occurrence: But his spirits verance in such painful duty."-Vol. ii. p. 177.
appear never to have recovered the shock;   It was impossible, however. for any care or
and the solicitude and apprehension which he attention to arrest the progress of that dreadconstantly felt for his long tried and affection- ful depression, by which the faculties of this
ate companion, suspended his literary exer- excellent man were destined to be extintions, aggravated the depression to which he guished.  In the beginning of the year 1794,
had always been occasionally liable, and ren- he became utterly incapable of any sort of
dered the remainder of his life a very preca- exertion, and ceased to receive pleasure from
rious struggle against that overwhelming mal- the company or conversation of his friends.
ady by which it was at last obscured. In the Neither a visit from Mr. Hayley, nor.his
end of summer, he returned Mr. Hayley'svisit Majesty's order for a pension 3001. a-year,
at Eartham; but came back again to Weston, was able to rouse him from that languid and
with spirits as much depressed and forebod- melancholy state into which he had gradually
ings as gloomy as ever.  His constant and been sinking; and, at lengtlh it was thought
tender attention to Mrs Unwin, was one cause necessary to remove him from the village of
of his neglect of every thing else. " I cannot Weston to Tuddenham in Norfolk, where he
sit," he says in one of his letters, "with my  could be under the immediate superintendpen in my hand, and mybooksbeforeme, while ence of his kinsman, the Reverend Mr. Johnshe is, in effect, in solitude —silent, and look- son. After a long cessation of all corresponding in the fire."  A still more powerful cause ence, he addressed the following very moving
was, the constant and oppressive dejection  lines to the clergyman of the fav6urite vilof spirits that now began again to overwhelm  lage, to which he was no more to return:
him.  " It is in vain,  he says;, "that I have   "I will forget, for a moment, that to whomsomad(e several attempts to write since I came ever I may address myself, a letter from me can no
from Sussex.  Unless more comfortable days otherwise be welcome, than as a curiosity. To
arrive, than I have now the confidence to look  you, sir, I address this, urged by extreme penury
for, there is an end of all writing with me I of employment, and the desire I feel to learn something of what is'doing, and has been done, at
I have no spirits.  When Rose came, I was Weston (my beloved Weston!) since I left it 
obliged to prepare for his coming, by a nightly  No situation, at least when the weather is clear
dose of laudanum."                            and bright, can be pleasanter than what we have
In the course of the year 1793, he seems here; which you will easily credit, when I add,
to have done little but revise his translation  that it imparts something a little resembling pleasure even to me.-Gratify me with news of Wes.
of Homer7 of which he meditated an im- ton!-If Mr. Gregson and the Courtney's are
proved edition. Mr. Hayley came to see him  there, mention me to them in such terms as you
a second time at Weston, in the month of see good. Tell me if my poor birds are living!
Noveniber; and gives this affecting and pro- I never see the herbs I used to give them, without
phetic account of his situation-              a recollection of them, and sometimes am ready to
He possessed completely at this period all the gather them, forgetting that I am not at home.admirable faculties of his mind, and all the native
tenderness of his heart; but there was something    In summer 1796, there were some faint
indescribable in his appearance, which led me to glimmerings of returning vigour, and he again
apprehend, that, without some signal event in his applied himself, for some time, to the revisal
favour, to re-animate his spirits, they would gradu- of his translation of Homer. In December,
ally sink into hopeless dejection. The state of his of his translation  of Homer. In Decembe
aged infirm companion, afforded additional ground Mrs. Unwin died; and such was the severe
for increasing solicitude. Her cheerful and benefi- depression under which her companion then
cent spirit could hardly resist her own accumulated laboured, that he seems to have suffered but
maladies, so far as to preserve ability sufficient to little on the occasion. He never afterwards
watch over the tender health of him whom she had mentioned her name!  At intervals in the
watched and guarded so long. Imbecility of bodv. h
and mind must gradually render this tender and summer, he continued to work at the revisal
heroic woman unfit for the charge which she had of his Homer, which he at length finished in
so laudably sustained. The signs of such imbe- 1799; and afterwards translated some of




160                       LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
Gay's Fables into Latin verse, and made ners, something of a saintly purity and doe
English translations of several Greek and corum, and in cherishing that pensive and
Latin Epigrams. This languid exercise of contemplative turn of mind, by which he was
his once-vigorous powers was continued till so much distinguished. His temper appears
the month of January 1800, when symptoms to have been yielding and benevolent; and
of dropsy became visible in his person, and though sufficiently steady and confident in
soon assumed a very formidable appearance. the opinions he had adopted. he was very
After a very rapid but gradual decline; which little inclined, in general, to force them  upon
did not seem to affect the general state of his the conviction of others. The warnmth of his
spirits, he expired, without struggle or agita- religious zeal made an occasional exception:
tion, on the 25th of April, 1800.           but the habitual temper of his mind was
Of the volumes now before us, we have toleration and indulgence; and it would be
little more to say. The biography of Cowper difficult, perhaps, to name a satirical and
naturally terminates with this account of his popular author so entirely free from jealousy
deacn; and the posthumous works that are and fastidiousness, or so much disposed to
now given to the public, require very few  make the most liberal and impartial estimate
observations. They consist chiefly of short of the merit of others, in literature, in poliand occasional poems, that do not seem to ties, and in the virtues and accomplishments
have been very carefully finished, and will of social life. No angry or uneasy passions.
not add much to the reputation of their indeed, seem  at any time to have found a
author. The longest is a sort of ode upon place in his bosom; and, being incapable of
Friendship, in which the language seems to malevolence himself, he probably passed
be studiously plain and familiar, and to which through life, without having once excited
Mr. Hayley certainly has not given the highest that feeling in the breast of another.
poetical praise, by saying that it " contains the    As the whole of Cowper's works are now
essence of every thing that has been said on before the public, and as death has finally
the subject, by the best writers of different closed the account of his defects and excelcountries."  Some of the occasional songs lencies, the public voice may soon be expectand sonnets are good; and the translations ed to proclaim the balance; and to pronounce
from the anthologia, which were the employ- that impartial and irrevocable sentence which
ment of his last melancholy days. have a is to assign him his just rank and station in the
remarkable closeness and facility of expres- poetical commonwealth, and to ascertain the
sion. There are two or three little poetical value and extent of his future reputation. As
pieces, written by him in the careless days the success of his works has, in a great meaof his youth, while he resided in the Temple, sure, anticipated this sentence, it is the less prethat are, upon the whole, extremely poor and sumptuous in us to offer our opinion of them.
unpromising. It is almost inconceivable, that   The great merit of this writer appears to
the author of The Task should ever have been us to consist in the boldness and originality
guilty of such verses as the following: -   of his composition, and in the fortunate au""ris not with either of these views,    dacity with which he has carried the doThat I presume to address the Muse;    minion of poetry into regions that had been
But to divert a fierce banditti,       considered as inaccessible to her ambition.
(Sworn foes to every thing that's witty!)    The gradual refinement of taste had, for nearly
That, with a black infernal train,
Make cruel inroads in my brain,        a century, been weakening the force of origiAnd daily threaten to drive thence     nal genius. Our poets had become timid and
My little garrison of sense:           fastidious, and circumscribed themselves both
The fierce banditti which I mean,      in the choice and the management of their
Are gloomy thoughts, led on by spleen.  subjects, by the observance of a limited numThen there's another reason yet,       ber of models  ho
Which is, that I may fairly quit       ber o models,  ho were thought to have exThe debt which justly became due       hausted all the legitimate resources of the art.
The moment when I heard from you:      Cowper was one of the first who crossed this
And you might grumble, crony mine,     enchanted circle; who reclaimed the natural
If paid in any other coin."-Vol. i. p. 15.    liberty of invention, and walked abroad in the
It is remarkable, however, that his prose open field of observation as freely as those by
was at this time uncommonly easy and ele- whom it was originally trodden. He passed
gant. Mr. Hayley has preserved three num- from the imitation of poets, to the imitation
bers of the Connoisseur, which were written of nature, and ventured boldly upon the repby him in 1796, and which exhibit a great resentation of objects that had not been sancdeal of that point and politeness, which has tified by the description of any of his predebeen aimed at by the best of our periodical cessors.  In the ordinary occupations and
essayists since the days of Addison.       duties of domestic life, and the consequences
The personal character of Cowper is easily of modern manners in the common scenery
estimated, from the writings he has left, and of a rustic situation, and the obvious conternmthe anecdotes contained in this publication. plation of our public institutions, he has found
He seems to have been chiefly remarkable a multitude of subjects for ridicule and refor a certain feminine gentleness, and deli- flection, for pathetic and picturesque descripcacy of nature, that shrunk back from  all tion, for moral declamation, and devotional
that was boisterous, presumptuous, or rude. rapture, that would have been looked upon
His secluded life, and awful impressions of with disdain, or with despair, by most of our
religion, concurred in fixing upon his man- poetical adventurers.  He took as wide a




HAYLEY'S LIFE OF COWPER.                              161
range in language too, as in matter; and. that are bestowed upon them; nor can we
shaking off the tawdry incumbrance of that believe that soldiership, or Sunday music,
poetical diction which had nearly reduced have produced all the terrible effects which
the art to the skilful collocation of a set of he ascribes to them: There is something very
conventional phrases, he made no scruple to undignified, too, to say no worse of them, in
set down in verse every expression that would the protracted parodies and mock-heroic pashave been admitted in prose, and to take ad- sages with which he seeks to enliven some
vantage of all the varieties with which our of his gravest productions. The Sofa (for
language could supply him.                instance, in the Task) is but a feeble imitaBut while, by the use of this double licence, tion of " The Splendid Shilling; the Monitor
he extended the sphere of poetical composi- is a copy of something still lower; and the
tion, and communicated a singular character tedious directions for raising cucumbers, which
of freedom, force, and originality to his own begin with calling a hotbed "a stercorarious
performances, it must not be dissembled, that heap," seem to have been intended as a
the presumption which belongs to most inno- counterpart to the tragedy of Tom Thumb.
Vators, has betrayed him into many defects. All his serious pieces contain some fine devoIn disd wining to follow the footsteps of others, tional passages: but they are not without a
he has frequently mistaken the way, And has taint of that enthusiastic intolerance which
been exasperated, by their blunders, to rush religious zeal seems but too often to produce.
into opposite extremes. In his contempt for   It is impossible to say any thing of the detheir scrupulous selection of topics. he has fects of Cowper's writings, without taking
introduced some that are unquestionably low  notice of the occasional harshness and ineleand uninteresting; and in his zeal to strip off gance of his versification. From his correthe tinsel and embroidery of their language, spondence, however, it appears that this was
he has sometimes torn it (like Jack's coat in not with him the effect of negligence merely
the Tale of a Tub) into terrible rents and but that he really imagined that a rough and
beggarly tatters. He is a great master of incorrect line now and then had a very agreeEnglish, and evidently values himself upon able effect in a composition of any length.
his skill and facility in the application of its This prejudice, we believe, is as old as Cowrich and diversified idioms: but he has in- ley among English writers; but we do not
dulged himself in this exercise a little too know that it has of late received the sanction
fondly, and has degraded some grave and of any one poet of eminence. In truth, it
animated passages by the unlucky introduc- does not appear to us to be at all capable of
tion of expressions unquestionably too collo- defence. The very essence of versification
quial and familiar. His impatience of control, is uniformity; and while any thing like versi.
and his desire to have a great scope and va- fication is preserved, it must be evident that
riety in his compositions, have led him- not uniformity continues to be aimed at. What
only to disregard all order and method so en- pleasure is to be derived from an occasional
tirely in their construction, as to have made failure in this aim, we cannot exactly undereach of his larger poems professedly a com- stand. It must afford the same gratification,
plete miscellany, but also to introduce into we should imagine, to have one of the butthem a number of subjects, that prove not to tons on a coat a little larger than the rest, or
be very susceptible of poetical discussion. one or two of the pillars in a colonnade a little
There are specimens of argument, and dia- out of the perpendicular. If variety is wantlogue, and declamation, in his works, that ed, let it be variety of excellence, and not a
partake very little of the poetical character, relief of imperfection: let the writer alter the
and make rather an awkward appearance in measure of his piece, if he thinks its unia metrical production, though they might formity disagreeable; or let him interchange
have had a lively and brilliant effect in an it every now and then, if he thinks proper,
essay or a sermon. The structure of his sen- with passages of plain and professed prose;:
tences, in like manner, has frequently much but do not let him torture an intractable scrap
more of the copiousness and looseness of of prose into the appearance of verse, nor slip
oratory, than the brilliant compactness of in an illegitimate line or two among the
poetry; and he heaps up phrases and circum- genuine currency of his poem.
stances upon each other, with a profusion that   There is another view of the matter, no 
mi frequently dazzling, but which reminds us as doubt, that has a little more reason in it. A.
often of the exuberance of a practised speaker, smooth and harmonious verse is not so easily
as of the holy inspiration of a poet.     written, as a harsh and clumsy one; and, in
Mr. Iayley has pronounced a warm eulo- order to make it smooth and elegant, the -
gium  on the satirical talents of his friend: strength and force of the expression must
but it does not appear to us, either that this often be sacrificed. This seems to have been
was the style in which he was qualified to Cowper's view of the subject, at least in one
excel, or that he has made a judicious selec- passage.  " Give me," says he, in a letter to
tion of subjects on which to exercise it.- his publisher, "a manly rough line, with a,
There is something too keen and vehement deal of meaning in it, rather than a whole,
in his invective, and an excess of austerity in poem full of musical periods, that have nothis doctrines, that is not atoned for by the ing but their smoothness to recommend them."'truth or the beauty of his descriptions. Fop- It is obvious, however, that this is not a oapery and affectation are not such hateful and fence of harsh versification, but a confession.
gigantic vices, as to deserve all the anathemas of inability to write smoothly. Why should&
11




162                     LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
not harmony and meaning go together. It is it is translated, is a true English style, though
difficult, to be sure; and so it is, to make not perhaps a very elegant or poetical one,
meaning and verse of any kind go together: may also be assumed; but we are not sure
But it is the business of a poet to overcome that a rigid and candid criticism will go far.
these difficulties, and if he do not overcome ther in its commendation. The language is
them both, he is plainly deficient in an ac- often very tame, and even vulgar; and there
complishment that others have attained. To is by far too great a profusion of antiquated
those who find it impossible to pay due at- and colloquial forms of expression. In the
tention both to the sound and the sense, we dialogue part, the idiomatical and familiar
would not only address the preceding exhort- turn of the language has often an animated
ation of Cowper, but should have no scruple and happy effect; but in orations of dignity,
to exclaim, "Give us a sentence of plain this dramatical licence is frequently abused,
prose, full of spirit and meaning, rather than and the translation approaches to a parody.
a poem of any kind that has nothing but its In the course of one page, we observe that
versification to recommend it."           Nestor undertakes " to entreat Achilles to a
Though it be impossible, therefore, to read calm." Agamemnon calls him, " this wrangler
the productions of Cowper, without being de- here."  And the godlike Achilles himself
lighted withhis force, his originality, and his complains of being treated c" like a fellow of
variety; and although the enchantment of no worth."
his moral enthusiasm  frequently carries us                "Ye critics say,
insensibly through all the mazes of his digres-  How poor to this was Homer's style!"
sions, it is equally true, that we can scarcely   In translating a poetical writer, there are
read a single page with attention, without two kinds of fidelity to be aimed at. Fidelity
being offended at some coarseness or lowness to the matter, and fidelity to the manner of the
of expression, or disappointed by some " most original. The best translation would be that,
lame and impotent conclusion." The dignity certainly, which preserved both. But, as this
of his rhetorical periods is often violated by is generally impracticable, some concessions
the intrusion of some vulgar and colloquial mustbe made upon both sides; and the largest
idiom. and the full and transparent stream of upon that which will be least regretted by
his diction broken upon some obstreperous the common readers of the translation. Now,
verse, or lost in the dull stagnation of a piece though antiquaries and moral philosophers,
of absolute prose. The effect of his ridicule may take great delight in contemplating the
is sometimes impaired by the acrimony with state of manners, opinions, and civilization,
which it is attended; and the exquisite that prevailed in the age of Homer, and be
beauty of his moral painting and religious offended, of course, at any disguise or modem
views, is injured in a still greater degree by embellishment that may be thrown over his
ithe darkness of the shades which his enthu- representations, still, this will be but a second-;siasm and austerity have occasionally thrown ary consideration with most readers of poetMupon the canvas. With all these defects, ry; and if the smoothness of the verse, the
lhowever, Cowper will probably very long re- perspicuity of the expression, or the vigour.tain his popularity with the readers of Eng- of the sentiment, must be sacrificed to the
lish poetry. The great variety and truth of observance of this rigid fidelity, they will'his descriptions; the minute and correct generally be of opinion, that it ought rather
painting of tnose home scenes, and private to have been sacrificed to them; and that the
feelings with which every one is internally fa- poetical beauty of the original was better
miliar; the sterling weight and sense of most worth preserving than the literal import of
-f his observations, and, above all, the great the expressions. The splendour and magnifiappearance of facility with which every thing cence of the Homeric diction and versification
is executed, and the happy use he has so is altogether as essential a part of his compooften madeof the most common and ordinary sition, as the sense and the meaning which
language; all concur to stamp upon his poems they convey. His poetical reputation depends
the character.of original genius, and remind quite as much on the one as on the other; and
us of the merits that have secured immor- a translator must give but a very imperfect and
tality to Shakespeare.                    unfaithful copy of his original, if he leave out
After having-said so much upon the original half of those qualities in which the excellence
writings.of Cowper, we cannot take our leave of the original consisted. It's an indispensaof him without adding a few words upon the ble part of his duty, therefore, to imitate the
merits of the translation with which we have harmony and elevation of his author's lanfound him engaged for so considerable a por- guage, as well as to express his meaning; and
tion of his life. The~views with which it was he is equally unjust and unfaithful to his
undertakent. have already been very fully ex- original, in passing over the beauties of his
plained in the extracts we have given from  diction, as in omitting or disguising his senhis correspondence; and it is impossible to timents. In Cowper's elaborate version, there
deny, that his chief object has been attained are certainly some striking and vigorous pasin a very considerable degree. That the sages, and the closeness of the translation
translation is a great deal more close and lite- continually recals the original to the memory:ral than any that had previously been at- of a classical reader; but he will look in vain
aempted in English verse, probably will not for the melodious and elevated language of
b)e disputed by those wio are the least dis- HIIomer in the unpolished verses and collo.
prosed to admire it; that the style into which quial phraseology of his translator.




HAYLEY'S LIFE OF COWPER.                              16X
The Life and Posthunmous Writings of WILLIAM COWPER, Esq. With an Introductory Letter
to the Right Honourable Earl Cowper. By WILLTAM HAYLEY, Esq. Vol. III. 4to. pp.
416. Johnson, London: 1804.
THIS is the continuation of a work of which public; and having lived in a state of entire
we recently submitted a very ample account seclusion from the world, there were no anecand a very full character to our readers: On dotes of his conversation. his habits or opinthat occasion, we took the liberty of observ- ions, in circulation among his admirers. The
ing, that two quarto volumes seemed to be publication of his correspondence has in a
almost as much as the biography of a seclud- great measure supplied this deficiency; and
ed scholar was entitled to occupy; and, with we now know almost as much of Cowper as
a little judicious compression, we are still of we do of those authors who have spent their
opinion that the life and correspondence of days in the centre and glare of literary or
Cowper might be advantageously included in fashionable notoriety. These letters, however,
somewhat narrower limits. We are by no will continue to be read, long after the curimeans disposed. however, to quarrel with this osity is gratified to which perhaps they owed
third volume, which is more interesting, if their first celebrity: for the character with
possible, than either of the two former, and which they make us acquuinted, will always
will be read, we have no doubt, with general attract by its rarity, and engage by its eleadmiration and delight.                   gance. The feminine delicacy and purity of
Though it still bears the title of the life of Cowper's manners and disposition, the roCowper, this volume contains no further par- mantic and unbroken retirement in which his
ticulars of his history; but is entirely made innocent life was passed, and the singular
up of a collection of his letters, introduced by gentleness and modesty of his whole characa long, rambling dissertation on letter-writing ter, disarm him of those terrors that so often
in general, from the pen of his biographer. shed an atmosphere of repulsion around the
This prologue, we think, possesses no pecu- persons of celebrated writers, and make us
liar merit. The writer has no vigour, and more indulgent to his weaknesses, and more
very little vivacity; his mind seems to be delighted with his excellences, than if he had
cultivated, but not at all fertile; and, while been the centre of a circle of wits, or the orahe always keeps at a safe distance from ex- cle of a literary confederacy. The interest
travagance or absurdity, he does not seem to of this picture is still further heightened by
be uniformly capable of distinguishing affect- the recollection -of that tremendous malady,
ation from  elegance, or dulness from good to the visitations of which he was subject, and
judgment. This discourse upon letter-writ- by the spectacle of that perpetual conflict
ing, in short, contains nothing that might not which was maintained, through the greater
have been omitted with considerable advan- part of his life, betwee.1 the depression of those
tage to the publication; and we are rather constitutional horrors, and the gaiety that reinclined to think, that those who are ambi- sulted from a playful imagination, and a heart
tious of being introduced to the presence of animated by the mildest affections.
Cowper, will do well not to linger very long   In the letters now before us, Cowper dis.
in the antichamber with Mr. Hayley.       plays a great deal of all those peculiarities by
Of the  letters themselves, we may safely which his character was adorned or distinassert, that we have rarely met with any guished; he is frequently the subject of his
similar collection, of superior interest or own observations, and often delineates the
beauty. Though the incidents to which they finer features of his understanding with all the
relate be of no public magnitude or moment, industry and impartiality of a stranger. But
and the remarks which they contain are not the most interesting traits are those which are
uniformly profound or original, yet there is unintentionally discovered, and which  the
something in the sweetness and facility of the reader collects from expressions.that were emdiction, and more, perhaps, in the glimpses ployed for very different purposes. Among
they afford of a pure and benevolent mind, the most obvious, perhaps, as well as the most
that diffuses a charm over the whole collec- important of these, is that extraordinary comtion, and communicates an interest that is not bination of shyness and ambition, to which
often commanded by performances of greater we are probably indebted for the very existdignity and pretension. This interest was ence of his poetry. Being disqualified, by
promoted and assisted, no doubt, in a consid- the former, from vindicating his proper place
erable degree, by that curiosity which always in the ordinary scenes either of business or of
seeks to penetrate into the privacy of celebrat- society, he was excited, by the latter, to ated men, and which had been almost entirely tempt the only other avenue to reputation that
frustrated in the instance of Cowper, till the appeared to be open, and to assert the real
appearance of this publication. Though his dignity of the talents with which he felt that
writings had long been extremely popular, he was gifted. If he could only have mus
the author himself was scarcely known to the tered courage enough to read the journals ni




164                         LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
the House of Lords, or been able to get over men, would alarm him no more than she chairs they
the diffidence which fettered his utterance in  sit on. Such is the effect of custom."-p. 60.
general society, his genius would probably    There is much acuteness in the folowing
have evaporated in conversation, or been con- examination of Dr. Paley's argument in favoul
tented with the humbler glory of contributing  of the English hierarchy.
to the Rolltad or the Connoisseur.
"to the Rolliad or the Connoisseur.    He says first, that the appointment of various
As the present collection relates to no par- orders in the church, is attended with this good
ticular set of subjects or occurrences, but consequence, that each class of people is supplied
exhibits a view of the author's miscellaneous with a clergy of their own. level and description,
correspondence with the few intimate friends with whom  they nay live and associate on terms
he had retained, it is impossible to give any  of equality. But in order to effect this good purabstract of its contents or to observe any pose, there ought to be at least three parsons in
abstract of its contents, or to observe any  every parish; one for the gentry, one for the traders
order in the e.r racts that may be made from  and mechanics, and one for the lowest of the vulit.  We sha.i endeavour, however, to intro- gar. Neither is it easy to find many parishes,
duce as great a variety as possible.            where the laity at large have any society with their
Though living altogether in  retirement, minister at all: this therefore is fanciful, and a mere
Cowper appears to have retained a very nice  invention. In the next place, he says it gives a
wperception of  the  proprietaies  ofa veryniceldignity to the ministry itself'; and the clergy share
perception of the proprieties of conduct and in the respect paid to'their superiors. Much good
manners, and to have exercised a great deal may such participation do them! They themselves
of acuteness and sagacity upon the few sub- know how little it amounts to. The dignity a cujects of practical importance which he had  rate derives from the lawn sleeves and square cap
occasion to consider.  The following sketch  of his diocesan, will never endanger his humility
is by a fine and masterly hand; and proves Again-' Rich and splendid situations in the church,
isby afnean matelyhadadroehave beenjustly regarded as prizes, held out to inhow much a bashful recluse may excel a gen- vite persons of' good hopes and ingenious attain.
tleman from the grand tour in delicacy of ob- ments.' Agreed. But the prize held out in the
servation and just notions of politeness.      Scripture, is of a very different kind; and our ec" Since I wrote last, we had a visit from -. I clesiastical baits are too often snapped by the worth.
did not feel myself vehemently disposed to receive less, and persons of no attainments at all. They
him with that complaisance, from which a stranger are indeed incentives to avarice and ambition, but
generally infers that he is welcome. By his ma not to those acquirements, by which only the minner, which was rather bold than easy, I judged that       tion can be adorned, eal for the salva
there was no occasion for it; and that it was a trifle tion of men, humility, andself:denial. Mr. Paley
and I therefore cannot agree."-pp. 172, 173.
which, if he did not meet with, neither would he and I therefore cannot agree.-pp. 72, 73.
feel the want of. He has the air of a travelled man,   One of the most remarkable things in this
but not of a travelled gentleman; is quite delivered volume. is the great profusion of witty and
from that reserve, which is so common an ingre- humorous passages which it contains; though
dient in the Etnglish character, yet does not open they are usually so short and stand so much
himself gently and gradually, as men of polite behaviour do, but bursts upon you all at once. He connected with more indifferent matter, that
talks very loud; and when our poor little robins it is not easy to give any tolerable notion of
hear a great noise, they are immediately seized with them by an extract.  His style of narrative is
an ambition to surpass it-the increase of their vo-particularly gay and  leasing, though the inciferation occasioned an increase of his; and his, in cidents are general
return, acted as a stimulus upon theirs-neither side ents are general  too triflig to bear a
entertained a thought of giving up the contest, which separation from  the whole tissue of the corbecame continually more interesting to our ears respondence.  We venture on the following
during the whole visit. The birds, however, sur- account of an election visit.
vived it,-and so did we. They perhaps flatter
themselves they gained a complete victory, but I   "As when the sea is uncommonly agitated, the
bhemselves they woained  a complete victory, but I water finds its way into creeks and holes of rocks,
believe Mhr."-  would have  illed them  both tn  which in its calmer state it never reaches, in like
another hour.''-pp. 17, 18. manner the effect of these turbulent times is felt
Cowper's antipathy to public schools is well even at Orchard-side, where in general we live as
known to all the readers of his poetry. There  undisturbed by the political element, as shrimps or
are many excellent remarks on that subject cockles that have been accidently deposited in some
in these letters.  We can only find room  for hollow beyond the water-mark, by the usual dashing of the waves. We were sitting yesterday after
the following.                                 dinner, the two ladies and myself, very composedly,
"A public education is often recommended as the and without the least apprehension of any such inmost effectual remedy for that bashful and awkward  trusion, in our snug parlour, one lady knitting, the
restraint, so epidemical among the youth of our other netting, and the gentleman winding worsted,
country. But I verily believe, that, instead of being when, to our unspeakable surprise, a mob appeared
a cure, it is often the cause of it. For seven or before the window, a smart rap was heard at the
eight years of his life, the boy has hardly seen or door, the boys halloo'd, and the maid announced
conversed with a man, or a woman, except the Mr. G —. Puss* was unfortunately let out of her
mails at his boarding house. A gentleman or a box, so, that the candidate, with all his good friends
lady, are consequently such novelties to him, that at his heels, was refused admittance at the grand
he is perfectly at a loss to know what sort of beha- entry, and referred to the back door, as the only
viour he should preserve before them. He plays possible way of approach.
vwith his buttons, or the strings of his hat, he blows   " Candidates are creatures not very susceptible
his nose, and hangs down his head, is conscious of of affronts, and would rather, I suppose, climb in
his own deficiency to a degree that makes him quite at the window than be absolutely excluded. In a
unhappy, and trembles lest any one should speak to minute, the yard, the kitchen, and the parlour were
Iiln, because that would quite overwhelm him. Is filled. Mr. G-, advancing toward me, shook
not all this miserable shyness the effect of his edu- me by the hand with a degree of cordiality that was
cation? To me it appears to be so. If he saw good extremely seducing. As soon as he, and as many
conmpany every day, he would never be terrified at,he sight of it, and a room full of ladies and gentle-         * His tame hare.




HAYLEY'S LIFE OF COWPER.                                    165
as could find chairs were seated, he began to open woman, a very old one, the first night that she
the intent of his visit. I told him I had no vote, for found herself so comfortably covered, could not
which he readily gave me credit. I assured him I sleep a wink, being kept awake by the contrary
had no influence, which he was not equally inclined emotions, of transport on the one hand, and the fear
to believe, and the less no doubt because Mr. G-, of not being thankful enough on the other."
addressing himself to me at that moment, informed                              pp. 347. 348.
me that I had a great deal. Supposing that I could The correspondence of a poet may be ex
not be possessed of such a treasure without knowing pected to abound in  poetical   agery and
it, I ventured to confirm my first assertion, by say- pected to abound in poetical imagery and
ing, that if I had any, I was utterly at a loss to sentiments.  They do not form  the most
imagine where it could be, or wherein it consisted. prominent parts of this collection, but they
Thus ended the conference. Mr. G- squeezed occur in sufficient profusion; and we have
rne by the hand again, kissed the ladies, and with- been agreeably surprised to fil    in these letdrew. He kissed likewise the maid in the kitchen; ters the germs of many of the finest passages
and seemed upon the whole a most loving, kissing,      the       There is all the ardour of
kind-hearted gentleman. He is very young, genteel, and handsome. He has a pair of very good poetry and devotion in the following passages.
eyes in his head, which not being sufficient as it   " Oh  I could spend whole days, and moon-light
should seem for the many nice and aifficult purposes nights, in feeding upon a lovely prospect My eyes
of a senator, he had a third also, which he wore drink the rivers as they flow. If every human besuspended by a riband from his button-hole. The
suspended by a riband from his button-hole.   heing upon earth could think for one quarter of an
boys halloo'd, the dogs barked, puss scampered; hour, as I have done for many years, there might
the hero, with his long train of obsequious followers, perhaps be many miserable men among them, but
withdrew. We made ourselves very merry with not an unawakened one could be found, from the
the adventure, and in a short time settled into our arctic to the antarctic circle. At present, the difformer tranquillity, never probably to be thus inter. ference between them and me is greatly to their
rupted more. I thought myself, however, happy  advantage. I delight in baubles, and know them to
in being able to affirm truly, that I had not that in- be so; for, rested in, and viewed without a referfluence for which he sued, and for which, had I ence to their Author, what is the earth, what are
been possessed of it, with my present views of the the planets, what is the sun itself, but a bauble?
dispute between the Crown and the Commons, I Better for a man never to have seen them, or to see
must have refused him, for he is on the side of the them with the eyes of a brute, stupid and unconformer. It is comfortable to be of no consequence scious of what he beholds than not to be able to
in a world where one cannot exercise any without say,'The Maker of all these wonders is my friend!'
disobliging somebody."-pp. 242-244.            Their eyes have never been opened, to see that
Melancholy and defected men often amuse  they are trifles; mine have been, and will be, till
themselves with pursuits that seem to indicate  they are closed for ever. They think a fine estate,
the greatest levity.  Swift wrote all sorts of a large conservatory, a hot-house rich as a West Indian garden, things of consequence; visit them
doggrel and absurdity while tormented with  with pleasure, and muse upon them with ten times
spleen, giddiness. and misanthropy.  Cowper more. I am pleased with a frame of fobur lights,
composed John Gilpin during a season of most doubtful whether the few pines it contains will ever
deplorable depression, and probably indited  be worth a farthing; amuse myself with a greenthe rhyming letter which appears in this col- house, which Lord Bute's gardener could take upon
in a moment equally gloomy   For his back, and walk away with; and when I have
ection  in a moment        equally gloomy. For paid it the accustomed visit, and watered it, and
the amusement of our readers, we annex the given it air, I say to myself —This is not mine,'tis
concluding paragraph, containing a simile, of a plaything lent me for the present, I must leave it
which we think they must immediately feel soon."-pp. 19, 20.
the propriety.' We keep no bees; but if I lived in a hive, I
should hardly hear more of their music. All the
" I have heard before of a room, with a floor laid bees in the neighbourhood resort to a bed of migupon springs, and such like things, with so much nonette, opposite to the window, and pay me for
art, in every part, that when you went in, you was the honey they get out of it, iy a hunm, which,
forced to begin a minuet pace, with an air and a though rather monotonous, is as agreeable to my
grace, swimming about, now in and now out, with ear, as the whistling of my linnels. All the sounds
a deal of state, in a figure of eight, without pipe or that nature utters are delightful, at least in this
string, or any such thing; and now I have writ, in country. I should not perhaps find the roaring of
a rhyming fit, what will make you dance, and as lions in Africa, or of bears in Russia, very pleasing;
you advance, will keep you still, though against but I know no beast in England whose voice I do not
your will, dancing away, alert and gay, till you accountmusical,saveandexceptalwaysthebraying
come to an end of what I have penn'd; which that of an ass. The notes of all our birds and fowls
you may do, ere madam and you, are quite worn please me, without one exception. I should not inout, with jiggling about, I take my leave; and here deed think of keeping a goose in a cage, that I might
you receive a bow profound, down to the ground, hang him up in the parlour, for the sake of his melfrom your humble me-W. C."-p. 89.              ody; but a goose upon a common, or in a farm
As a contrast to'this ridiculous effusion, we yard, is no bad performer. And as to insects, if the
add the following brief statement, which, not- black beetle, and beetles indeed of all hues, will
isanding is  umble simpliciy appears keep out of my way, I have no objection to any of
the  rest; on the contrary, in whatever key they
o us to be an example of the true pathetic.   sing, from the knat's fine treble to the bass of the
"You never said a better thing in your life, than humble bee, I admire them all. Seriously, how.
when you assured Mr.-   of the expedience of a ever, it strikes me as a very observable instance of
gift of bedding to the poor of Olney. There is no providential kindness to man, that such an exact
one article of this world's comforts with which, as accord has been contrived between his ear and the
Falstaff says, they are so heinously unprovided. sounds with which, at least in a rural situation, it is
When a poor woman, whom we know well, carried almost every moment visited. All the world is
home two pair of blankets, a pair for herself and sensible of the uncomfortable effect that certain
husband, and a pair for her six children, as soon as sounds have upon the nerves, and consequently
the children saw them, they jumped out of their upon the spirits; and if a sinful world had been
straw. caught them in their arms, kissed them, filled with such as would have curdled the blood,
blessed them and danced for joy. Another old and have made the sense of hearing a perpetual in




166                        LITERATURE AND BIOGRAPHY.
convenience, I do not know that we should have for Christ, when he is fighting for his own notiona
had a right to complain.-There is somewhere in in- He thinks that he is skilfully searching the hearts
finite space, a world that does not roll within the of others, while he is only gratifying the malignity
precincts of mercy; and as it is reasonable, and even of his own; and charitably supposes his hearers
scriptural, to suppose that there is music in heaven, destitute of all grace, that he may shine the more
in those dismal regions perhaps the reverse of' it is in his own eyes by comnparison." —pp. 179, 180.
found. Tones so dismal, as to make woe itself
more insupportable, and to acutninate even despair.   The following  too, is in a fine style of
But my paper admonishes me in good time to draw  eloquence.
the reins, and to check the descent of my fancy    We have exchanged a zeal that was no better
into deeps with which she is but~too familiar.
-pc28t29. than madness, for an indifference equally pitiable
PP. 287-289.   and absurd. The holy sepulchre has lost its imThe following short sketches, though not portance in the eyes of nations called Christian;
marked with so much enthusiasm, are con- not because the light of true wisdom had delivered
ceived with the same vigour arnd distinctness, them from a superstitious attachment to the spot,
but because he that was buried in it is no longer
" When we look back upon our forefathers, we regarded by them as the Saviour of the world.
seem to look back upon the people of another na- The exercise of reason, enlightened by philosophy,
tion, almost upon creatures of another species. has cured them indeed of' the misery of an abused
Their vast rambling mansions, spacious halls, and understanding; but, together with the delusion,
painted casements, their Gothic porches smothered  they have lost the substance, and, for the sake of
with honeysuckles, their little gardens and high  the lies that were grafted upon it, have quarrelled
walls, their box-edgings, balls of holly, and yew. with the truth itself: Here, then, we see the ate
tree statues, are become so entirely unfashionable  plus ultra of human wisdom, at least in affairs of
now, that we can hardly believe it possible that a religion. It enlightens the mind with respect to
people who resembled us so little in their taste, non-essentials; but, with respect to that in which
should resemble us in any thing else. But in every  the essence of Christianity consists, leaves it perthing else, I suppose, they were our counterparts fectly in the dark. It can discover many errors,
exactly; and time, that has sewed up the slashed  that in different ages have disgraced the faith; but
sleeve, and reduced the large trunk-hose to a neat it is only to make way for the admission of one
pair of silk stockings, has left human nature just more fatal than them  all, which represents that
where it found it. The inside of the man, at least, faith itself as a delusion. Why those evils have
has undergone no change. His passions, appetites. been permitted, shall- be known hereafter. One
and aims are just what they ever were. They Wear thing in the meantime is certain; that the folly and
perhaps a handsomer disguise than they did in days frenzy of the professed disciples of the gospel have
of yore; for philosophy and literature will have their been more dangerous td' its interest than all the
effect upon the exterior; but in every other respect avowed hostilities of its adversaries." —pp. 200, 201.
a modern is only an ancient in a different dress."  There are many passages that breathe the
I am  much obliged to you for the voyages, very spirit of Christian gentleness and sober
which I received, and began to read last night. My  judgment.  But when he talks of his friend
imagination is so captivated upon these occasions, Mr. Newton's prophetic intimations (p. 35.),
that I seem to partake with the navigators in all the and maintains that a great proportion of the
dangers they encountered. I lose my anchor; ny  ladies and gentlemen who amuse themselves
main-sail is rent into shreds; I kill a shark, and by with dancing at Brighthelmstone  must necsigns converse with a Patagonian,-and all this
without moving from the fire-side. The principal essarily be damned (p. 100.) we cannot feel
fruits of these circuits that have been made around  the same respect for his understanding, and
the globe, seem likely to be the amusement of those are repelled by the austerity of his faith.
that staid at home. Discoveries have been made, The most remarkable passage of this kind,
but such discoveries as will hardly satisfy the ex- however is that in which he supposes the
pense of such undertakings. We brought away an death of the celebrated Captain Cook to have
Indian, and, having debauched him, we sent him
home again to communicate the infection to his been a judgment on him for having allowed
country-fine sports to be sure, btut such as will himself to be worshipped at Owhyhee.  Mr.
not defray the cost. Nations that live upon bread- Hayley assures us, in a note, that Cowper
fruit, and have no mines to make them worthy of proceeded altogether on a misapprehension of
our acquaintance, will be but little visited for the the fact.  The passage, however is curious
future. So much the better for them; their poverty  and shows with what eageress his powerfu
is indeed their mercy."-pp. 201, 202.          and shows with what eagerness his powerful
mind followed that train of superstition into
Cowper's religious impressions occupied too which his devotion was sometimes so unfortugreat a portion of his thoughts, and exercised  nately betrayed.
too great an influence on his character, not to
make a prominent figure in his correspond-   "The reading of those volumes afforded me
ence.  They  form  the subject of many elo- much amusement, and I hope some instruction.
and glowing passages; and have some- No observation, however, forced itself upon me
quent and glowing passages; and have some- with more violence than one, that I could not help
times suggested sentiments and expressions making, on the death of Captain Cook. God is a
that cannot be perused without compassion  jealous God; and at Owhvhee the poor man was
and regret. The following passage, however, content to be worshipped! From  that moment,
is liberal and important.                      the remarkable interposition of Providence in his
favour, was converted into an opposition that
" No man was ever scolded out of his sins. The thwarted all his purposes. He left the scene of his
heart, corrupt as it is, and because it is so, grows deification, but was driven back to it by a most
angry if it be not treated with some management violent storm, in which he suffered more than in
and good manners, and scolds again. A surly mas- any that had preceded it. When he departed, he
tiff will bear perhaps to be stroked, though he will left his worshippers still infatuated with an idea of
growl even under that operation; but if you touch  his godship, consequently well disposed to serve
him roughly, he will bite. There is no grace that him. At his return, he found them sullen, disthe spir:t of self can counterfeit with more success trustful, and mysterious. A trifling theft was comrn.
than a religious zeal. A man thinks he is fighting mit:ed, which, by a blunder of his own in pursuing




HAYLEY'S LIFE OF COWPER.                                    167
the tnief after the property had been restored, was   This volume closes with a fragment of a
magnified to an affair of the last importance. One poem by Cowper, which Mr. Hayley was for.
of their favourite chiefs was killed, too, by a blun- tunate enouoh to discover by accident among
der. Nothing, in short, but blunder and mistake                               en
attended him, till he fell breathless into the water some loose papers which had been found i
— and then all was smooth again! The world in- the poet's study.  It consists of something
deed will not take notice, or see that the dispensa- less than two hundred lines. and is addressed
lion bore evident marks of divine displeasure; but to a very ancient and decayed oak in the
a mind, I think, in any degree spiritual, cannot vicinity of Weston.  We do not think quite
overlook them."-pp. 293, 294.                so highly'f this production as the editor ap.
From these extracts, our readers will now  pears to do; at the same time that we con.
be able to form a pretty accurate notion of fess it'o be impressed with all the marks
the contents and composition of this volume. of Cowper's most vigorous hand: we do not
Its chief merit consists in the singular ease, know any of his compositions, indeed, that
elegance, and familiarity with which every affords a more strikinig exemplification of
thing is expressed, and in the simplicity and most of the excellences and defects of his
sincerity in which every thing appears to be peculiar style, or might be more fairly quoted
conceived.  Its chief fault, perhaps, is the too as a specimen of his manner.  It is full of the
frequent recurrence of those apologies for (lull conceptions of a vigorous and poetical fancy
letters, and complaints of the want of sub- expressed in nervous and familiar language
jects, that seem occasionally to bring it down but it is rendered harsh by unnecessary in
to the level of an ordinary correspondence, versions, and (lebased in several places by
and to represent Cowper as one of those who the use of antiquated and vulgar phrases.
make every letter its own,subject, and cor- The following are about the best lines which
respond with their friends by talking about it contains.
their correspondence.
Besidoes the subjects, of which we have "Thou wast a bauble once; a cup and ball,
exhibited some specimens, it contains a good   Which babes might play with; and the thievish
exhibited some spiona  criticin s   ow h  do      jay
deal of occasional criticism, of zwzhich we do   Seeking her food. with ease might have purloin'd
not think very highly. It is not easy, indeed,   The auburn nut that held thee, swallowing down
to say to what degree the judgments of those   Thy yet close-folded latitude of boughs,
who live in the world are biassed by the   And all thine embryo vastness, as a gulp!
opinions that prevail in it; but, in matters of   But fate thy growth decreed; autumnal rains,
Beneath thy parent tree, mellow'd the soil
this kinld, the general prevalence of all oinioii   Design'd thy cradle, and a skipping deer,
is almost the only test we can have of its   With pointed.hoof dibbling the glebe, prepar'd
truth;,tnd the judgment of a seclude(l man   The soft receptacle, in which secure
is almost as justly convicted of error, when it   Thy rudiments should sleep the winter through."
runs counter to that opinion, as it is extolled
for saoacity, when it happells to coincide with  "Time made thee what thou wast-King of the
it. The critical remarks of Cowper furnish          voods!
sit.  The critical remarks of b Cowper furnish    And time hath made thee what thou art-a cave
us with instances of both sorts; but perhaps   For owls to roost in! Once thy spreading boughs
with most of the former. His admiration of   O'erhlng the champaign, and the numerous flock
Mrs. Macaulay; s History, anll the rapture   That graz'd it, stood beneath that ample cope
with which he speaks of the Henry and   Uncrowded, yet safe-sheltered from the storm!
Emma of Prior, an(l the compositions of   No flock fiequents thee now; thou hast outliv'd
Churchill will not we shoul  imaine at-   Thy popularity; and art become
Chulrchill, will not: wte shoul(l imagZine  at-  (Unless verse rescue thee awhile) a thing
tract the sympathy of many readers, or sus-   Forgotten, as the foliage of thy youth!"
pendt the sentence which time appears to be
passing on those performances.  As there is' One man alone, the father of us all,
scarcely any thing of love it the poetry of   Drew not his life from woman; never gaz'd,
Cowper, it is not very -wonderful that there   With mute unconsciousness of what he saw,
should be nothing of it in his correspondence.   On all around him; learn'd not by degrees,
Nor ow'd articulation to his ear;
There is something very tender and amiable   But moulded by his Maker into man.
in his affection for his cousin L ady Hesketh;   At once, upstood intelligent; survey'd
but we (to not remember any passage where   All creatures; with precision understood
he approaches to the language of gallantry,   Their purport, uses, properties; assign'd
or alppearts to have iii(tlulged ill the sellliments   To each his name significant, and, fill'd
that nmigh t have led to its emlployment.  It is   With love and wisdom, rendered back to heaven,
In praise harmonious, the first air he drew!
also somewh      at r emarkabl    that lduing   i the Ie was excus'd the penalties of dull
whole course of his retirement, though a good   Minority; no tutor charg'd his hand
deal embarrassed in his circumstances, and   With the thought-tracing quill, or task'd his mind
freqiently very much distressed for want of   With problems; History, not wanted yet,
employmetIt, he l-lever seems to have hard aln  Lean'd on her elbow, watching time, whose cause
employmt her.~r see~msEventful, should supply her with a theme."
idea of betaking himself to a profession. The                               pp.Eventful, should sup416.
solutioin of this difficulty is probably to be
found in the infirmity of his mental health:   On the whole, though we complain a little
but there were ten or twelve years of his life, of the size and the price of the volumes now
when he seems to have been fit for any exer- before us, we take our leave of them  with,
tion that did not reqiuire a public appearance, reluctance; and lay down our pen with no
&rnd to have suffered very much from  the  little regret. to think that we shall review ne
Want of all occupation.                      more of this author's productions.




HISTORY
AND
HtISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
(Qctober, 1s08.)
Memoirs of the Life of COLONEL HUTrcHION, Governor of Nottingham Castle and Town
Representative of the County of Nottingham in the Long ParliamTcnt, and of the Town of
Nottingham in the First Parliament qf Charles II. gcc.; with Original Anecdotes of many of
the most distinguished of his Contemporaries, and a summary Review of Public Affairs:
Written by his Widow, LUCY, daughter of SIR ALLEN APSLEY, Lieutenant of the Tower, ~c.
Now first published from the Original Manuscript, by the REV. JULIUS HUTCHINSON, &C.
&c. To which is prefixed, the Life of MRS. HUTCHINSON; written by Herself, a Fragment.
pp. 446. 4to. London, Longman and Co.: 1806.
WE have not often met with any thing more that history to more recent transactions, if we
interesting and curious than this volume. In- have not a tolerably correct notion of the
dependent of its being a contemporary nar- character of the people of England in the
rative of by far the most animating and im- reign of Charles I., and the momentous peportant part of our history, it challenges our riods which ensued. This character depended
attention as containing an accurate and lu- very much on that of the landed proprietors
minous account of military and political affairs and resident gentry; and Mrs. Hutchinson's
from the hand of a woman; as exhibiting the memoirs are chiefly valuable, as containing a
most liberal and enlightened sentiments in picture of that class of the community.
the person of a puritan; and sustaining a high   Agriculture was at this period still the
tone of aristocratical dignity and pretension, chief occupation of the people; and the truly
though the work of a decided republican. governing part of society was consequently
The views which it opens into the character of the rustic aristocracy. The country gentlethe writer, and the manners of the age, will men-who have since been worn down by
be to many a still more powerful attraction.  luxury and taxation, superseded by the acOf the times to which this narrative be- tivity of office, and eclipsed by the opulence
longs-times to which England owes all her of trade-were then all and all in England;
freedom and all her glory-we can never hear and the nation at large derived from them its
too much, or too often: and though their story habits, prejudices, and opinions. Educated
has been transmitted to us, both with more almost entirely at home, their manners were
fulness of detail and more vivacity of colour- not yet accommodated to a general European
ing than any other portion of our annals, every standard, but retained all those national pecureflecting reader must be aware that our in- liarities which united and endeared them to
formation is still extremely defective, and the rest of their countrymen. Constitutionally
exposes us to the hazard of great misconcep- serious, and living much with their families,
tion. The work before us, we think, is cal- they had in general more solid learning, and
culated in a good degree to supply these de- more steady morality than the gentry of other
ficiencies, and to rectify these errors.  countries. Exercised in local magistracies,'
By fvar the most important part of history, and frequently assembled for purposes of
as we 1lave formerly endeavoured to explain, national cooperation, they became conscious
is that which makes us acquainted with the of their power, and jealous of their privileges::character, dispositions, and opinions of the and having been trained up in a dread and
great and efficient population by whose mo- detestation of that popery which had been
tion or consent all things are ultimately gov- the recent cause of so many wars and perseerned. After a nation has attained to any cutions, their religious sentiments had condegree of intelligence, every other principle tracted somewhat of an austere and polemical
of action becomes subordinate; and. with re- character, and had not yet settled from the
lation to our own country in particular, it may ferment of reformation into tranquil and regu.
be said with safety, that we can know nothing lated piety. It was upon this side, accordof its past history, or of the applications of ingly, that they were most liable to error:
168




LIFE OF COLONEL HUTCHINSON.                           169
and the extravagances into which a part of applause, on the violin,-stout esquires, at
them was actually betrayed, has been the the same time, praying and quaffing October
chief cause of the misrepresentations to which with their godly tenants,-and noble lords
they were then exposed, and of the miscon- disputing with their chaplains on points of
ception which still prevails as to their char- theology in the evening, and taking them out
acter and principles of action.          a-hunting in the morning. There is nothing,
In the middle of the reign of Charles I. al- in short, more curious and instructive, than
most the whole nation was serious and devout. the glimpses which we here catch of the old
Any licence and excess which existed was hospitable and orderly life of the country
mostly encouraged and patronised by the gentlemen of England, in those days when
Royalists; who made it a point of duty to the national character was so high and so
deride the sanctity and rigid morality of their peculiar,-when civilization had produced all
opponents; and they again exaggerated, out its effects, but that of corruption,-and when
of party hatred, the peculiarities by which serious studies and dignified pursuits had not
they were most obviously distinguished from  yet been abandoned to a paltry and effeminate
their antagonists. Thus mutually receding derision. Undoubtedly, in reviewing the an.
fronm each other, from  feelings of general nals of those times we are struck with a
hostility, they were gradually led to realize loftier air of manhood than presents itself in
the ihnputations of which they were recipro- any after era; and recognize the same chartlly the subjects. The cavaliers gave way acters of deep thought and steady enthusiasm,
to a certain degree of licentiousness; and the and the same principles of fidelity and self.
adherents of the parliament became, for the command, which ennobled the better days of
most part, really morose and enthusiastic. At the Roman Republic, and have made every
the Restoration, the cavaliers obtained a com- thing else appear childish and frivolous in
plete and final triumph over their sanctimo- the comparison.
nious opponents; and the exiled monarch   One of the most striking and valuable
and his nobles imported from the Continent a things in Mrs. Hutchinson's performance, is
taste for dissipation, and a toleration for de- the information which it affords us as to the
bauchery, far exceeding any thing that had manners and condition of women in the period
previously been known in England. It is with which she is occupied. This is a point
from the wits of that court, however, and the in which all histories of public events are
writers of that party, that the succeeding and almost necessarily defective; though it is evithe present age have derived their notions of dent that, without attending to it, our notions
the Puritans. In reducing these notions to of the state and character of any people must
the standard of truth, it is not easy to deter- be extremely imperfect and erroneous. Mrs.
mine how large an allowance ought to be Hutchinson, however, enters into no formal
made for the exaggerations of party hatred, disquisition upon this subject.  What we
the perversions of witty malice, and the illu- learn from her in relation to it, is learnt incisions of habitual superiority. It is certain, dentally-partly on occasion of some anechowever, that ridicule, toleration, and luxury dotes which it falls in her way to recite-but
gradually annihilated the Puritans in the chiefly from what she is led to narrate or dishigher'ranks of society: and after-times, seeing close as to her own education, conduct, or
their practices and principles exemplified only opinions. If it were allowable to take the
among the lowest and most illiterate of man- portrait which she has thus indirectly given
kind, readily caught the tone of contempt of herself, as a just representation of her fair
which had been assumed by their triumphant contemporaries, we should form a most exaltenemies; and found no absurdity in believing ed notion of the republican matrons of Engthat the base and contemptible beings who land. Making a slight deduction for a few
were described under the name of Puritans traits of austerity, borrowed from the bigotry
by the courtiers of Charles II., were true of the age. we do not know where to look for
representatives of that valiant and conscien- a more noble and engaging character than
tious party which once numbered half the that under which this lady presents herself to
gentry of England among its votaries and her readers; nor do we believe that any age
adherents.                               of the world has produced so worthy a counThat the popular conceptions of the auster- terpart to the Valerias and Portias of antiquity.
ities and absurdities of the old Roundheads With a high-minded feeling of patriotism and
and Presbyterians are greatly exaggerated, public honour, she seems to have been poswill probably be allowed by every one at all sessed by the most dutiful and devoted atconversant with the subject; but we know  tachment to her husband; and to have corn.
of nothing so well calculated to dissipate the bined a taste for learning and the arts with
existing prejudices on the subject, as this the most active kindness and munificent hosbook of Mrs. Hutchinson. Instead of a set pitality to all who came within the sphere of
of gloomy bigots waging war with all the her bounty. To a quick perception of char.
elegancies and gaieties of life, we find, in this acter, she appears to have united a masculine
calumniated order, ladies of the first. birth force of understanding, anda singular capacity
and fashion, at once converting their husbands for affairs; and to have possessed and exerto Anabaptism, and instructing their children cised all those talents, without affecting any
in music and dancing,-valiant Presbyterian superiority over the rest of her sex, or aban
colonels refuting the errors of Arminius, col- doning for a single instant the delicacy tnd
lecting pictures, and practising, with great reserve which were then its most indispensa



170                    HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
ble ornaments.  Education, certainly, is far quently charms us by a sort of antique simr
more generally diffused in our days, and ac- plicity and sweetness, admirably in um son
complishments infinitely more common; But with the sentiments and manners it is emthe perusal of this volume has taught us to ployed to represent.
doubt, whether the better sort of women were    The fragment of her own history, with
not fashioned of old by a better and more ex- which the volume opens, is not the least inalted standard, and whether the most eminent teresting, and perhaps the most characteristic
female of the present day would not appear part of its contents.  The following brief acto disadvantage by the side of Mrs. Hutchin- count of her nativity, will at once make the
son.  There is, for the most part, something reader acquainted with the pitch of this lady's
intriguing and profligate and theatrical in the sentiments and expressions.
clever women of this generation; and if we   "It was one the 29th day of January, in the yeare
are dazzled by their brilliancy, and delighted  of our Lord 16ko, that in the Tower of London,
with their talent, we can scarcely ever guard  the principall citie of the English Isle, I was about
against some distrust of their judgment or 4 of the clock in the morning brought forth to besome suspicion of their purity.  There is hold the ensuing light. My father was Sr. Allen
something, in short, in, the domestic virtue  Apsley, leiftenant of the Tower of London; my
th  n   o n dmi  mother, his third wife, was Lucy, the youngest
and the calm  and commanding mind of our daughter of Sr. John St. John, of Lidiard Tregoz,
English matron, that makes the Corinnes and  in Wiltshire, by his second wife. My father had
Heloises appear small and insignificant.      then living a sonne and a daughter by his former
The admirers of modern talent will not ac- wives, and by my mother three sonns, I being her
cuse us of choosing an ignoble competitor, if eldest daughter. The land was then att peace (it
we desire them to weigh the merits of IiMrs. being towards the latter end of the reigne of King
eHutchinson  against thosei e of Mr.adame R d   James), if that quiettnesse may be call'd a peace,
Hutchinson against those of Madame Roland. which was rather like the calme and smooth surface
The English  revolutionist did not indeed  of the sea, whose darke womb is allready impreg
compose weekly pamphlets and addresses to nated of a horrid tempest."-pp. 2, 3.
the municipalities;-because it was not the    She then draws the character of both her
fashion, in her days, to print every thing that parents in a very graceful and engaging manentered into the heads of politicians. But she                                            to
shut herself up with her husband in the gar-  admit of their being transferred entire into
rison with which he was intrusted, and shared our pages. We give the following as a specihis counsels as well as his hazards.  She en- men of the style and execution.
couraged the troops by her cheerfulness and
heroism-ministered to the sickhand dressed  kn He was a most indulgent husband, and no lesse
h eroism-ministered to th      oe csick- and dressed kind to his children; a most noble master; who
with her own hands the wounds of the cap- thought it not enough to maintaine his servants
tives; as well as of their victors.  When her honourably while they were with him, but, for all
husband was imprisoned on groundless sus- that deserv'd it, provided offices or settlements as
picions, she laboured, without ceasing. for his fbr children. He was a father to all his prisoners,
deliverance-confounded his oppressors by  sweetning with such compassionate kindnesse their
her eloquence and arguments-tended him  restraint, that the afliction of a prison was not felt
in his dayes. He had a singular kindnesse for all
with unshaken fortitude in sickness and soli- persons that were eminent either in learning or
tude-and, after his decease. dedicated her- armes; and when. through the ingratitude and vice
self to form his children to the example of his of that age, many of the wives and chilldren of
virtues; and drew up the memorial which is Queene Elizabeth's glorious captaines were reduc'd
now before us, of his worth and her own  to poverty, his purse was their common treasury,
and they knew not the inconvenience of decay d
genius and affection.  All this, too, she did  fortunes till he was dead: many of those valliant
without stepping beyond the province of a seamen he maintain'd in prison; many he redeem'd
private woman-without hunting after com- out of prison and cherisht with an extraordinary
pliments to her own genius or beauty —with- bounty. He was severe in the r-gulating of his
out sneering at the dulness, or murmuring at famely; especially would not endure the least immodest behaviour or dresse in any woman under
*the coldness of her husband-without hazard- his roofe. There was nothing he hated more than
ing the fate of her country on the dictates of an insignificant gallant, that could only make his
her own enthusiasm, or fancying for a moment leggs and prune himself, and court a lady, but had
that she was born with talents to enchant and  not braines to employ himselfe in things more suteregenerate the world.  With equal power of able to man's nobler sex. Fidelity in his trust, love
discriminating character, with equal candour and loyalty to his prince, were not the least of his
and eloquence and zeal for the general gtood, vertues, but those wherein he was not excell'd by
and eloquence and zeal for the general ood   any of his owne or succeeding times. He gave my
she is elevated beyond her French competitor mother a noble allowance of 3001. a yeare for her
by superior prudence and modesty, and by a owne private expence, and had given her all her
certain simplicity and purity of character, of owne portion to dispose of how she pleas'd, as
which, it appears to us, that the other was soone as she was married; which she suffer'd to enunable to form a conception.                  crease in her friend's hands; and what my father
allowed her she spent not in vanities, although she
After detaining the reader so long with  had what was rich and requisite upon occasions, but
these general observations, we shall only with- she lay'd most of it out in pious and charitable uses;
hold him from the quotations which we mean  Sr. Walter Rawleigh and Mr. Ruthin being prisoners
to lay before him, while we announce, that in the Tower, and addicting themselves to chimisMrs. Hutchinson writes in a sort of lofty, trie, she suffer'd them to make theirrare expericlassical, translated style; which is occasion- ments at her cost, partly to comfort and divert the
poore prisoners, and partly to gaine the knowledge
ally diffuse and pedantic, but often attains to of their experiments, and the medicines to helpe
great dignity and vigour, and still more fre- such poore people as were not able to seeke to phi




LIFE OF COLONEL HUTCHINSON.                                   17
sitians. By these means she acquir'd a greate deale    "But while the incomparable mother shin'd in
of skill, which was very profitable to many all her all the humane glorie she wisht, and had tt.e crowne
life. She was not only to these, but to all the other of' all outward telicity to the full in the enjoyment
prisoners that came into the Tower, as a mother. of the mutuall love of her most beloved husband,
All the time she dwelt in the Tower, if any were  God in one moment tooke it away, and alienated.
sick she made them broths and restoratives with her her most excellent understanding in a difficult childowne hands, visited and took care of them, and birth, wherein she brought forth two daughters
provided them all necessaries: If any were aflicted  which liv'd to be married. and one more that died,
she comforted them, so that they felt not the incon- I think assoone or before it was borne. But after
venience of a prison who were in that place. She that, all the art of the best physitians in England
was not lesse bountifull to many poore widdowes could never restore her understanding. Yet she
and orphans, whom  officers of higher and lower was not frantick, but had such a pretty deliration,
rank had left behind them  as objects of charity. that her ravings were more delightful than other
Her owne house was fill'd with distressed families weomen's most rationall conversations. Upon this
of her relations, whom she supplied and maintained occasion her husband gave himselfe up to live rein a noble way."-pp. 12-15.                    tired with her, as became her condition.  T'he
daughters and the rest of the children as soon as
For herself, being her mother's first daugh- they grew up were married and disperst. 1 think
ter, unusual pains were bestowed on her edu- I have heard she had some children alter that
cation; so that, when she was seven years of childbirth which distemper'd her; and then my
age, she was attended, she informs us, by no  lady Hutchinson must have bene one of them.
fewer than eight several tutors.  In conse- have heard her servants say, that even alter her
quence of all this, she became very grave and  marriage, she would steale many melancholy houres
thoughtneeofual;t s e and           to sitt and weepe in remembrance of' her. Meanethoughtful; and withal very pious.  But her while her parents were driving on their age, in no
early attainments in religion seem  to have  lesse constancy of love to each other, when even
been by no means answerable to the notions that distemper which had estrang'd her mind in all
of sanctity which she imbibed in her maturer things elce. had left her love and obedience entire
to her husband, and he retein'd the same fond
years. There is something veryinnocentand        her husband, and he retein'd the same fond
hnesse and respect for her, after she was distemper'd,
natural in the Puritanism  of the following as when she was the glory of her age! He had
passage.                                       two beds in one chamber, and she being a little sick,
It pleas'd God that thro' the good instructions two weomen watcht by her, some time before she
of my mother, and the sermons she carried me to  died. It was his custome, as soon as ever he unofI was convinc'd thatnd the sermknowledgns se arrof Goied wame to, clos'd his eies, to aske how she did; but one night,
I was convine'd that the knowledge of God was he being as they thought   a deepe sleepe, she
the most excellent study; and accordingly applied  he  being as the  thou ght in    a deepe sleepe, she
myselfe to it, and to practise as I was taught. I
us'd to exhort my mother's maides much, and to  hat day to have gone a hunting, his usuall exercise
turne their idle discourses to good subjects; but I for his health; and it was his custome to have his
thought, when I had done this on the Lord's day, chaplaine pray with him before he went out: the
and every day perform'd my due taskes of reading weomen, fearfull to surprise him with the ill
newes, knowing   his deare affection to her, haP.
and praying, that then I was free to anie thing that newes, knowing his deare affection ther, had
was not sin; for I was not at that time convinc'd of stollen out and acquainted the chaplaine, desiring
the vanity of conversation which was not scandal- him to informe him of it. Sr. John waking, did
ously wicked; I thought it no sin to learne or heare not that day, as was his custome, ask for heare; bat
wittie songs and amorous sonnets or poems, and call'd the chaplaine to prayers, and ioyning with
twenty things of that kind; wherein I was so apt both in the middst of the prayer, expir'd!-and
that I became the confident in all the loves that
were managed among my mother's young women: gave.  Whether he perceiv'd her death and
and there was none of them but had many lovers would not take notice, or whether some strange
and some particular friends belov'd above the rest; sympathy in love or nature tied up their lives in
among these I have  -.-p. 17, 18.              one, or whether God was pleased to exercise an
unusuall providence towards them, preventing
Here the same spirit of austerity which  them  both from  that bitter sorrow which such
dictated the preceding passage, had moved  separations cause, it can be but conjectur'd," &c.
the fair writer, as the editor informs us, to -p. 26-28.
tear away many pages immediately following    The same romantic and suppressed sensi.
the words with which it concludes-and thus bility is discernible, we think, in her whole
to defraud the reader of the only love story  account of the origin and progress of her
with which he had any chance of being  husband's attachment to her.  As the story
regaled  in  the  course  of this narrative. is in many respects extremely characteristic
Although Mrs. Hutchinson's abhorrence of of the times as well as the persons to which
any thing like earthly or unsanctified love, it relates. we shall make a pretty large extract
has withheld her on all occasions from  the  from  it.  Mr. Hutchinson had learned, it
insertion of any thing that related to such  seems, to "dance and  vault," with great
feelings, yet it is not difficult, we think, to agility, and also attained to "great mastery
perceive that she was originally constituted  on the violl" at the University; and, upon
with an extraordinary sensibility to all power- his return to Nottingham, in the twentieth
ful emotions; and that the suppression of year of his age, spent much of his time with
those deep and natural impressions has given  a licentious but most accomplished gentlea singular warmth and animation to her des- man, a witty but profane physician, and a
cription.s of romantic and conjugal affection. pleasant but cynical old schoolmaster.  In
In illustration of this, we may refer to the  spite of these worldly associations, however
following story of her husband's grandfather we are assured that he was a most godly
and grandmother, which she recounts with  and incorruptible person; and, in particular,
much feeling and credulity.  After a very  proof against all the allurements of the fair
ample account of their mutual love and love- sex, whom he frequently "Ieproved. but in a
liness, she proceeds -                         handsome way of raillery, far their pride and




172                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
vanity."  In this hopeful frame of mind, it faine to pretend something had offended his sto.
was proposed to him to spend a few summer mach, and to retire from the table into the garden,
months at Richrmond, where the young princes where the gentleman of the house going with him,
Ihen held their court.                 prnces it was not necessary for him to feigne sickness, for
the distemper of his mind had infected his body with
" Mr. Hutchinson considering this, resolv'd to  a cold sweate and such a dispersion of spiritt, that
accept his offer; and that day telling a gentleman  all the courage he could at present recollect was
of the house whither he was going, the gentleman  little enough to keep him  allive. While she so
bid him take heed of the place, for it was so fatall ran in his thoughts, meeting the boy againe, he
for love, that never any young disehgag'd person  fouind out, upon a little stricter examination of
went thither, who return'd  again free.  Mr. him, that she was not married, and pleas'd him
Hutchinson laught at him; but he, to confirme selfe in the hopes of her speedy returne, whet
it, told him  a very true story of a gentleman, one day, having bene invited by one of the ladies
who not long before had come tor some time to of that neighbourhood, to a noble treatment at
ledge there, and found all the people he came in Sion Garden, which a courtier, that was her sercompany with, bewailing the death of a gentle- vant, had made for her and whom she would bring,
woman that had lived there. Hearing her so much  Mr. Hutchinson, Mrs. Apsley, and Mr. Coleman's
deplor'd, he made enquiry after her, and grew so daughter were of the partie, and having spent the
in love with the description, that no other discourse day in severall pleasant divertisements, att evening
could at first please him, nor could he at last endure they were att supper, when a messenger came to
any other; he grew desperately melancholly, and  tell Mrs. Apsley her mother was come.  She
would goe to a mount where the print of her fbote  would immediately have gone; but Mr. Hutchinwas cutt, and lie there pining and kissing of it all son, pretending civility to conduct her home, made
the day long, till att length death in some months her stay'till the supper was ended, of which he
space concluded his languishment. This story was eate no more, now only longing for that sight,
very true; but Mr. Hutchinson was neither easie  which he had with such perplexity expected. This
to believe it, nor frighted at the example; thinking  at length he obteined; but his heart being preposhimselfe not likely to make another."-p. 37, 38.   sesst with his owne fancy, was not free to dis
cerne how  little there was in her to answer so
He goes accordingly  to Richmond: and  greate an expectation.  She was not ugly-in a
boards with  his music-master; in  whose  carelesse riding-habitt, she had a melancholly neglihouse a younger sister of his future wife  gence both of herselfe and others, as if she neither
happened then to be iplaced,-she herself  affected to please others, nor tooke notice of anie
having gone into Wiltshire with her mother, thing before her; yet spite of all her indifferency,
With somr e expectations of being married be- she was surpris'd with some unusual liking in her
fwith some expectations of being married be- soule, when she saw this gentleman, who had haire,
fore her return.                                eies, shape, and countenance enough to begett love
"This gentlewoman, that was left in the house    any one at the first, and these sett off with a
with Mr. Hutchinson, was a very child, her elder gracefull and a generous mine, which promis'd an
sister being at that time scarcely past it; btut a extraordinary person.  Although he had but an
child of such pleasantnesse and vivacity of spirittevening sight of her he had so long desir'd, and
and ingenuity in the quallity she practis'd, that Mr. that at disadvantage enough for her, yett the preHutchinson tooke pleasure in hearing her practise,vailing sympathie of his soule, made him thinke all
and would fall in discourse with her. She having his paynes well pay'd, and this first did whett his
the keyes of her mothers house, some halfe a mile desire to a second sight, which he had by accident
distant, would some times aske Mr. Hutchinson, the next day, and to his ioy found she was wholly
when she went over, to walk along with her: one disengaged from  that treaty which he so much
day when he was there, looking upon an odden fear'd had been accomplisht; he found withall, that
byshelf, in her sister's closett, he found a few  though she was modest, she was accostable, and
Latine bookes; asking whose they were, he was willing to entertaine his acquaintance. This soone
Latine bookes;  asking whose they were, he as pas t  into a mutuall friendship betweene them, andw
told they were her elder sister's; whereupon, en- past into a mutuall friendship betweene them, and
quiring more after her, he began first to be sorrie though she innocently thought nothing of love, yet
she was gone, before he had seene her. and gone  was she glad to have acquir'd such a friend, who
upon such an account, that he was not likely to see had wisedome and vertue enough to be trusted
her; then he grew to love to heare mention of with her councells. Mr. Hutchinson, on the other
her; and the other gentleweomen who had bene side, having bene told, and seeing how she shunn'd
her companions, used to talke much to him of her, all other men, and how civilly she entertain'd him,
telling him how reserv'd and studious she was, and believ'd that a secret power had wrought a mutuall
other things which they esteem'd no advantage; inclination betweene them, and dayly frequented
but it so much inflam'd Mr. Hutchinson's desire of her mother's house, and had the opportuniwie of
seeing her, that he began to wonder at himselfe,conversing with her ia those pleasant gvalkes,
that his heart, which had ever had such an indiffer- which, at that sweete season of the spring, invited
encv for the most excellent of weonenkind, should  all the neighbouring inhabitants to seeke their
have so strong impulses towards a stranger he ioys; where, though they were never alone, yet
nevero aw."-" While he was exercis'd in this, they had every day opportunity for converse with,each other, which the rest shar'd not in, while
many days past not, but a foote-boy of my lady each other, which the rest shar'd not in, while
her mothers came to young Mrs. Apsley as they every one minded their own delights,"-pp. 38-44.
were at dinner, bringing newes that her mother   Here the lady breaks off her account of this
and sister would in few dayes return; and when  romantic courtship, as of "matters that are
they enquir'd of him, whether Mrs. Apsley was to be forgotten as the vanities of youth, and
married, having before bene instructed to make
them believe it, he smiled, and pull'd out some not worthy mention among the greater transbride laces, which were given at a wedding in the actions of their lives."  The  consent of
house where she was, and gave them to the young parents having been obtained on both sides,
gentlewoman and the gentleman's daughter of the she was married at the age of eighteen.
ho'se, and told them  Mrs. Apsley bade him tell
no news, but give them those tokens, and carried    "That day that the friends on both sides met to
the matter so, that all the companie believ'd she conclude the marriage, she fell sick of the smallhad bene married. Mr. Hutchinson immediately, pox, which was many ways a greate triall upon
turned pale as ashes, and felt a fainting to seize him; first her life was allmost in desperate hazard,
his spiritts, in that extraordinary manner, that and then the disease, for the present, made her the
inding himselfe ready to sinke att table, he was most deformed person that could be seene, for a




LIFE OF COLONEL HUTCHINSON;                                    173
preate while after she recover'd; yett he was noth- gravings, and many other ingenuities, less offr,,ive
ing troubled at it, but married her assoone as she then the prophane abusive witt, which was the only
was able to quitt the chamber, when the priest and  exercise of the other court."-p. 65.
all that saw her were affrighted to looke on her!
but God recompenc'd his iustice and constancy, by    The characters of this kingrs counsellors
restoring her, though she was longer than ordinary are drawn, in general, with great force and
before she recover'd, as well as before."-pp. 45,46. liveliness; and with a degree of candoui
scarcely to have been expected in the widow
There is a good deal more of this affection- of a regicide.  We give that of Lord Straffora
ate and romantic style of writing throughout as an example.
the book; but the Shade of Mrs. Hutchinson
would not forgive us, if we were to detain the    " But there were two above all the rest, who led
reader longer with these -vanities of her the van of the king's evill councellors, and these
Wreader loner proe    thesreforei to gver were Laud, archbishop of Canterbury, a fellow of
youth."  We proceed, therefore  to             meane extraction and arrogant pride, and the earl
matters.                                       of Strafibrd, who as much outstript all the rest in
We might cull many striking specimens of favour as he did in abilities, being a man of deep
eloquence from her summary account of the  policy, sterne resolution, and ambitious zeale to
Erglish Constitution and of the Reformation; keepe up the glory of his own greatnesse. In the
but the following view of the changes which              of this king's reigne this man had bene
took place on the accession of James and of a strong assertor of the liberties of the people,
among whom he had gain'd himselfe an honorable
Charles, are more characteristic of the age reputation, and was dreadfull to the court party,
and of the party to which she belongs.         who thereupon strew'd snares in his way, and when
they found a breach at his ambition, his soule was
"The honor, wealth, and glory of the nation, that way enter'd and captivated. He was adwherein Queene Elizabeth left it, were soone pro- vanc'd first to be lord president of the councell in
digally wasted by this thriftlesse heire, the nobility the north, to be a baron, after an earle, then deputy
ofthe land utterly debas'd by setting honors to pub- of Ireland; the neerest to a favourite of any man
lick sale, and conferring them on persons that had since the death of the duke of Buckingham, who
neither blood nor meritt fitt to weare, nor estates to was rays'd by his first master, and kept up by the
beare up their titles, but were faine to invent pro- second, upon no account of personall worth or and
iects to pill* the people, and pick their purses for deserving abilities in him, but only upon violent ana
the maintenance of vice and lewdiesse. The gene- private inclinations of the princes; but the earle ot
rallity of the gentry of the land soone learnt the Strafford wanted not any accomplishment that
court fashion, and every greate house in the country  could be desir'd in the most serviceable minister of
became a sty of uncleannesse. To keepe the peo- state: besides, he having made himselfe odious to
pie in their deplorable security, till vengeance over- the people, by his revolt from their interest to that
tooke them, they were entertain'd with masks, of the oppressive court, he was now oblig'd to keep
stage playes, and sorts of ruder sports. Then be- up his owne interest with his new p:arty, by all the
gan murther, incest, adultery, drunkenltesse, swear- mallitious practises that pride and revenge could in.
ing, fornication, and all sorts of ribaldry, to be no spire him with." —pp. 68, 69.
conceal'd but countenanc'd vices; because theyat talents, in
held such conformity with the court example."- One  of Mrs. Hutchin   sonos great talens  in.
" And now the ready way to preferment there, was deed, is the delineation of characters; and
to declare an opposition to the power of godlinesse, though her affections are apt to throw rather
under that name; so that their pulpitts might iustly too glowing or too dark a tint over the canvas,
be called the scorner's chair, those sermons only  yet this very warmth carries with it an impleasing that flatter'd them in their vices, and told   ession of sin
the poore king that he was Solomon!-that his sloth presson of scerity, which adds  not a little
and cowardize, by which he betrey'd the cause of to the interest of her  pictures.  We pass by
God and honour of the nation, was gospell meeke- her short sketches, —of the Earl of Newcas
nesse and peaceablenesse, for which they rays'd him  tie, who was " a prince in his own country,
up above the heavens, while he lay wallowing like till a foolish ambition of glorious slavery
a swine in the mire of his lusts. He had a little carried him to court;-the Earl of Kingston
learning,-and this they call'd the spiritt of wise- "whose covetouness  made him  divide hi..
dome, and so magnified him, so falsely flatter'd him,                              divide hi
that lie could not endure the words of truth and sons between the two parties, till his fate
soundnesse, but rewarded these base, wicked, un- drew him  over to the king's side, where he
faithfull fawners with rich preferments, attended  behaved himself honourably, and died rewith pomps and titles, which heav'd them up above markably;"-the Earl of Clare, " who was
a humane heighth: With their pride their envie
swell'd against the people of God, whom they be- very often of both parties and, I think, never
gan to proiect how they might roote out of the land  advantaged either,"-and a great number of
and when they had once given them a name, what- other persons, who are despatched with equal
ever was odious or dreadfull to the king, that they brevity; and venture to put her talents to a
fixt upon the Puritane, which, according to their severer test, by trying whether they can intercharacter, was nothing but a factious hypocrite." est the reader in a description of the burghers
The face of the court was much  a d in the and private gentlemen of Nottingham, at the
change of the king; for King Charles was temper- breaking out of these great disturbances.
ate, chast, and serious; so that the fooles and    "There were seven aldermen in the towne, and
bawds, mimicks and catamites of the former court of these only alderman James, then mayor, own'd
grew out of fashion; and the nobility and courtiers, the parliament. He was a very honest, bold man,
who did not quite abandon their debosheries, had but had no more but a burgher's discretion; he was
yet that reverence to the king, to retire into corners yett very well assisted by his. wife, a weoman of
to practise them: Men of learning and ingenuity in greate zeal and courage, and more understanding
all arts were in esteeme, and receiv'd encourage- than weomen of her ranke usually have. All the
inent from the king; who was a most excellent devout people of the towne were very vigorous and
fudge and a greate lover of paintings, carvings, ready to offer their lives and famelies, but there was
not halfe the halfe of the towne that consisted of
F"Pill-pillage, plunder."           these. The ordinary eivill sort of people coldly




174                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
adher'd to the better; but all the debosht, and such    This gallant gentleman afterwards fell at
as had liv'd upon the bishops persecuting courts, the battle of Preston.  Mrs. Hutchinson has
and bene the lacqueys of projectors and monopo- given the following animated description of
lizers, and the like, they were all bitterly malig- hiven the fate
nant. Yett God awed them, that they could not at
that time hinder his people, whom  he overrul'd    "In the beginning of this battle, the valliant Coll.
some of their greatest enemies to assist, such as Thornhagh was wounded to death. Being at the
were one Chadwick and Plumptre, two who, at beginning of the charge on a horse as courageous
the first, put themselves most forward into the as became such a master, he made such furious
businesse.                                     speed, to sett upon a company of' Scotch lanciers,
" Plumptre was a doctor of phisick, an inhabitant that he was singly engaged and mortally wounded,
of Nottingham, who had learning, naturall parts, before it was possible for his regiment, though as
and understanding enough to discerne betweene brave men as ever drew sword, and too afectionate
naturall civill righteousnesse and iniustice, but he to their collonell to be slack in following him, to
was a horrible atheist, and had such an intollerable  come time enough to breake the furie of that body,
pride, that he brook'd no superiours, and having which shamed not to unite all their force against
some witt, tooke the boldnesse to exercise it, in the one man. His soule was hovering to take her flight
abuse of all the gentlemen wherever he came."-  out of his body, but that an eager desire to know
" This man had sence enough to approove the par- the successe of that battle kept it within, till the
liament's cause, in poynt of civill right, and pride end of the day, when the newes being brought him,
enough to desire to breake the bonds of slavery, he clear'd his dying countenance, and say'd,' I
whereby the king endeavour'd to chaine up a free now reioyce to die, since God hath lett me see the
people; and upon these scores, appearing high for overthrow of this perfidious enemy; I could not lose
the parliament's interest, he was admitted into the my life in a better cause, and I have the favour from
consultations of those who were then putting the God to see my blood aveng'd.' So he died; with
country into a posture of defence.             a large testimony of love to his souldiers, but more
"Chadwick was a fellow of a most pragmaticall to the cause, and was by mercy remoov'd, that the
temper, and, to say truth, had strangely wrought temptations of future times might not prevaile to
himselfe into a station unfitt for him. He was at corrupt his pure soule. A man of greater courage
first a boy that scraped trenchers in the house of one and integritie fell not nor fought not in this glorious
of the poorest iustices in the county, but yet such a cause; he had also an excellent good nature. but
one as had a greate deale of fobrmallity and under- easie to be wrought upon by flatterers, yett as flexistanding of the statute law, from whom this boy  ble to the admonitions of his friends; and this virtue
pick'd such ends of law, that he became first the he had, that if sometimes a cunning insinuation
lustice's, then a lawyer's clearke. Then, I know  prevail'd upon his easie faith, when his error was
not how, gott to be a parcell-iudge in Ireland, and  made known to him, notwithstanding all his greate
came over to his owne country swell'd with the courage he was readier to acknowledge and repaire,
reputation of It, and sett on foote a base, absolute, then to pursue his mistake."-pp. 289, 290.
arbitrary court there, which the Conqueror of old
had given to one Peverel his bastard," &c.-    The most conspicuous person by far, of the
i" When the king was in towne a little before, this age to which Mrs. Hutchinson belongs, was
man so insinuated into the court that, comming to Cromwell; and there is no character, accordkisas the king's hand, the king told him he was                             to have studied
very honest man; yet by flatteries and dissimula-        YP
tions he kept up his creditt with the godly, cutting more, or better comprehended.  Her work
his haire, and taking up a forme of godlinesse, the contains a great number of original anecdotes
better to deceive. In some of the corrupt times he with regard to him; and with all the advanhad purchas'd the honor of a barrister, though he tages which later times have derived from the
had neither law nor learning, but he had a voluble collation of various authorities, and from contongue, and was crafty; and it is allmost incredible  idering at a dispassionate distance, the varithat one of his meane education and poverty should  s n       is         e d
arrive to such things as he reacht. This baseness ous turns of his policy, we doubt whether any
he had, that all the iust reproaches in the world historian has yet given a more just or satiscould not moove him, but he would fawne upon any factory account of this extraordinary personage
man that told him of his villaties to his face, even than this woman, who saw him  only in the
at the very time. Never was a truer Judas, since course of his obliquities, and through the
Iscariott's time, than he; for he would kisse the varying medium of her own hopes and appreman he had in his heart to kill; he naturally de- varyinmedium of her own hopes and apprelighted in mischiefe and treachery, and was so ex-hensions.  The profound duplicity and great
quisite a villaine, that he destroy'd those designes ambition of his nature, appear to have been
he might have thriven by, with overlaying them  very early detected by Colonel Hutchinson,
with fresh knaveries."-pp. 110-113.            whose biographer gives this account of his
We have not room  for many of the more demeanour to the Levellers and Presbytefavourable delineations with which these are rians, who were then at the height of their
contrasted; but we give the following short rivalry.
sketch of Mr. Thornhagh, who seems to have    "These were they," says she, speaking of the
been a great favourite of Mrs. Hutchinson's.  former, " who first began to discover the ambition
" Mr. Francis Thornhagh, the eldest sonne of of Lieftenant-general Cromwell and his idolaters,
Sr. Francis Thornhagh, was a man of a most up- and to suspect and dislike it. About this time, he
right faithfull heart to God and God's people, and was sent downe, after his victory in Wales, to en.
to his countrie's true interest, comprehended in the counter Hamilton in the north. When he went
parliament's cause; a man of greater vallour or downe, the chiefe of these levellers following him
more noble daring fought not for them; nor indeed out of the towne, to take their leaves of him, reever drew sword in any cause; he was of a most ceiv'd such professions from him, of a spiritt bent
excellent good nature to all men, and zealous for to pursue the same iust and honest things that they
his friend; he wasted councell and deliberation, desir'd, as they went away with greate satisfaction,and was sometimes too facile to flatterers, but had'till they heard that a coachfull of Presbyterian
iudgment enough to discerne his errors when they priests comming after them, went away no less
were represented to him, and worth enough not to pleas'd; by which it was apparent he dissembled
persist in an iniurious mistake because he had once with one or the other, and by so doing lost his
entertained it.'-p. 114.                      creditt with both.




LIFE OF COLONEL HUTCHINSON.                                     175
"When he came to Nottingham, Coll. Hutchin- sought his ruine. He expresst an earnest desire to
son went to see him, whom he embrac'd with all restore the people's liberties, and to take and pursue
the expressions of kindnesse that one friend could  more safe and sober councells, and wound up all
make to another, and then retiring with him, prest with a very fair courtship of the collonell to engage
him  to tell him what thoughts his friends, the with him, offering him any thing he would account
levellers, had of him. The collonell, who was the  worthy of him. The collonell told him, he could
freest man in the world from concealing truth from  not be forward to make his owne advantage, by
his friend, especially when it was requir'd of him  serving to the enslaving of his country. The other
in love and plainnesse, not only told him what others told him, he intended nothing more then the rethought of him, but what he himselfe qonceiv'd, and  storing and confirming the liberties of the good
how much it would darken all his'lories, if he people, in order to which he would employ such
should become a slave to his owne ambition, and  men of honor and interest as the people should rebe guilty of what he gave the world iust cause to  joyce, and he should not refuse to be one of them.
suspect, and therefore begg'd of him to weare his And after, with all his arts, he had endeavour'd to
heartin his face, and to scorne to delude his enemies, excuse his publique actions, and to draw in the
but to make use of his noble courage, to maintaine  collonell, he dismist him with such expressions as
what he believ'd iust, against all greate oposers. were publickely taken notice of by all his little
Cromwell made mighty professions of a sincere courtiers then about him; when he went to the end
heart to him, but it is certeine that for this and such  of the gallery with the collonell, and there, embraclike plaine dealing with him, he dreaded the collonell, ing him, sayd allowd to him,' Well, collonell, satisand made it his particular businesse to keepe him  fied or dissatisfied, you shall be one of us, for wee
out of the armie; but the collonell, never desiring  can no longer exempt a person so able and faithfull
command, to serve himselfe, but his country, would from the publique service, and you shall be satisfied
not use that art he detested in others, to procure  in all honest things.' The collonell left him with
himselfe any advantage."-pp. 285-287.           that respect that became the place he was in; when
iimmediately the samne courtiers, who had some
An after scene is still more remarkable, and  of them past him by without knowing him when
mote characteristic of both the actors.  After he came in, although they had bene once of his
Cromwell had possessed himself of the sove- familiar acquaintance; and the rest, who had look'd
reibgnty, Colonel Hutchinson came accidentally  upon him  with such disdainfull neglect as those
to the knowledge of a plot which had been laid  little people use to those who are not of their facfor his assassination; and was moved, by the  tion, now fiockt about him, striving who should
nobleness of his own nature, and his regard  expresse most respect, and, by an extraordinary
nobleness of his own nature, and his regard  officiousnesse, redeeme their late slightings. Some
for the Protector's great qualities-though he  of them desir'd he would command their service in
had openly testified against his usurpation,. any businesse he had with their lord, and a thouand avoided his presence since the time of sand such frivolous compliments, which the collonell
it-to give such warning of it to Fleetwood, smiled att, and, quitting himselfe of them as soone
as he could, made haste to returne into the country.
as might enable him  to escape that hazard, There he had not long bene but that he was inbut at the same time without betraying the  form'd, notwithstanding all these faire shewes, the
names of any of the conspirators.               protector, finding him too constant to be wrought
" After (Collonell Hutchinson had given Fleet- upon to serve his tirannie, had resolv'd to secure
wood that caution, he was going into the country  his person, least he should head the people, who
when the protector sent to search him out with allnow grew very weary of his bodage. But though
it was certainly confirm'd to the collonell how much
the earnestnesse and haste that could possibly be, he was afraid of his honesty and freedome, and
and the collonell went to him; who mett him in one that he was resolv'd not to let him longer be att
of the galleries, and receiv'd him with open armes liberty, yet, before his guards apprehended the
and the kindest embraces that could be given, and  colonel, death imprison' himselfe, and confin'd
complain'd that the collonell should be so unkind  all his vast ambition, and all his cruell designes inta
as never to give him a visitt, professing how well. the narrow compasse of a grave."-pp. 340-342.
come he should have bene, the most wellcome
person in the land; and with these smooth insinu-    Two other anecdotes, one very discreditable
ations led him allong to a private place, giving him  to Cromwell, the other affording a striking
thankes for the advertisement he had receiv'd from  proof of his b
Fleetwood, and using all his art to gett out of the proof o    s bravery and knowledge of mancollonell the knowledge of the persons engag'd in kind, may be found at p. 308. and 316.  But
the conspiracy against him. But none of his cun- we dismiss the subject of this "great bad
ning, nor promises, nor flatteries, could prevaile man," with the following eloquent representawith the collonell to informe him more than he tion of his government after he had attained
thought necessary to prevent the execution of the the height of his ambition; —a representation
designe; which when the protector percelv'd, hen which the keen regrets of disappointed
gave him most infinite thankes for what he had
told him, and acknowledg'd it open'd to him sone patriotism are finely mingled with an indigmisteries that had perplext him, and agreed so with  nant contempt for those who submitted to
other intelligence he had, that he must owe his tyranny, and a generous admission of the talpreservation to him:'But,' says he,'deare collo- ents and magnanimity of the tyrant.
nell, why will not you come in and act among us?'
The collonell told him plainly, because he liked not   "In the interim Cromwell and his armie grew
any of his wayes since he broke the parliament, as wanton with their power, and invented a thousand
being those which led to certeine and unavoydable  tricks of government, which, when nobody oppos'd,
destruction, not only of themselves, but of the whole  they themselves fell to dislike and vary every day.
parliament party and cause, and thereupon tooke  First he calls a parliament out of his owne pockett,
occasion, with his usuall freedom, to tell him into  himselfe naming a sort of godly men for every
what a sad hazard all things were put, and how  country, who meeting and not agreeing, a part of
apparent a way was made for the restitution of all them, in the name of the people, give up the soveformer tyranny and bondage. Cromwell seem'd  reignty to him. Shortly after,,he makes up seveto receive this honest plainnesse with the greatest rail sorts of mock parliaments, but not finding one
affection that could be, and acknowledg'd his pre- of them absolutely for his turne, turn'd them off
ripitatenesse in some things, and with teares com- againe. He soone quitted himselfe of his triumvirs,
plained how Lambert had put him upon all those and first thrust out Harrison, then tooke away
violent actions, for which he now accus'd him and Lambert's commission, and would have bene king




176                    HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
but for feare of quitting his generallship. He weed- the nation, there is something in this account
ed, in a few months time, above a hundred and of Colonel Hutchinson which appears to us
fifty godly officers out of the arrmie, with whom  deserving of notice with reference to both:iany of the religious souldiers went off, and in their
roome abundance of the king's dissolute souldiers these particulars.
were entertained, and the armie was almost chang'd   Soon after his marriage, he retired to his
from that godly religious armie, whose vallour God house at Owthorpe, where he took to the study
had crown'd with triumph, into the dissolute armie of divinity; and having his attention roused
they had beaten, bearing yett a better name. His to the state of public affairs, by the dreadful
wife and children too, were setting up for princi-   res o  Ireland  in 1641  set himself
pality, which suited no better with any of theni than massacres of Ireland, in 1641, set himself
scarlett on the ape; only, to speak the truth of him- diligently to read and consider all the disputes
selfe, he had much naturall greatnesse, and well which were then begun between the King
became the place he had usurp'd. His daughter and Parliament; the result of which was, a
Fleetewood was humbled, and not exalted, with steady conviction of the justice of the prethese things; but the rest were insolent fooles. tensions maintained by the latter, with a
Cleypoole, who married his daughter, and his son
Henry, were two debauch'd ungodly cavaliers. strong anxiety for the preservation of pace.
Richard was a peasant in his nature; yet gentle and His first achievement (we are sorry to say)
vertuous; but became not greatnesse. His court was, to persuade the parson of his parish to
was full ofsilnne and vanity, and the more abomi- deface the images, and break the painted
nable, because they had not yett quite cast away glass in the windows of his church, in obethe name of' God, but prophan'd it by taking it in  lience to an injunction of the parliament;
vaine upon them. True religion was now almost his next to resist Lold  Neark  n an illegal
lost, even among the religious party, and hipocrisie his n to resist Lord Newark in an illegal
became an epidemicall disease, to the sad griefe of attempt to carry off the ammunition belonging
Collonell Hutchinson, and all true-hearted Chris- to the county, for the use of the King.  His
lians and Englishmen. Almost all the ministers deportment upon this last occasion, when he
every where fell in and worshipt this beast, and was only twenty-five years of age, affords a
courted and made addresses to him. So did the
city of London, and many of the degenerate lords very singular proof of temper and firmness,of the land, with the poore spirited gentry.'The perfect good breeding, and great powers of
cavaliers, in pollicy, who saw that while Cromwell reasoning.
reduc'd all the exercise of tirannicall power under   When the King set up his standard at Not
another name, there was a doore open'd for the re- tingam, Mr. Hutchinson repaired to the camp
storing of their party, fell much in with Cromwell, of ssex, the parliamentary general but "did
and heighten'd all his disorders. He at last ex-     x, the parllamentarygeneral; but "did
ercis'd such an arbitrary power, that the whole not then find a clear call from the Lord to join
land grew weary of him, while he sett up a com- with him."  His irresolution, however, was
pinie of silly meane fellows, call'd maior-generalls, speedily dissipated, by the persecutions of the
as governors in every county. These rul'd, accord- Royalists, who made various efforts to seize
ing to their wills, by no law but what seem'd good him as a disaffected person.  He accordingly
in their owne eies; imprisoning men, obstructing began to consult with others in the same prethe course of iustice betweene man and man, per- dicament: and having resolved to try to defend
verting right through partiallity, acquitting some dicament: and havingresolved to tryto defend
that were guilty, and punishing some that were the town and castle of Nottingham against the
innocent as guilty. Then he exercised another assaults of the enemy, he was first elected
proiect to rayse mony, by decimation of the estates governor by his associates, and afterwards
of all the king's party, of' which actions'tis said had his nomination confirmed by Fairfax and
Lambert was the instigator. At last he tooke by the Parliament. A great deal too much
upon him to make lords and knights; and wanted      the Parliame nt.   A great deal too much
not many fooles, both of the armnie and gentry, to of the book is occupied with an account of the
accept of and strutt in his mock titles.'Then the petty enterprises in which this little garrison
Earle of Warwick's grandchild and the Lord Fal- was engaged; the various feuds and dissenconbridge married his two daughters; such pittifull sions which arose among the different officers
slaves were the nobles of those dayes. Att last and the committees who were appointed as
Lambert, perceiving himselfe to have bene all this their council; the occasional desertion and
while deluded with hopes and promises of succession, and seeing that Cromwell now intended to treachery of various individuals. and the many
confirme the government in his own famely, fell contrivances, and sacrifices, and exertions by
off from him, but behav'd himselfe very pittifully  which Colonel Hutchinson was enabled to
and meanely, was turn'd out of all his places, and maintain his post till the final discomfiture of
return'd againe to plott new vengeance at his house             This narrative contains, no
at Wimbledon, where he fell to dresse his flowers doubtoyal party. splendids narrative contains, no
in his garden, and worke at the needle with his doubt many splendid examples of courage
wife and his maides! while he was watching an and fidelity on both sides; and, for the variety
oppertunity to serve againe his ambition, which had of intrigues, cabals, and successful and unthis difference from the protector's; the one was successful attempts at corruption which it
gallant aid greate, the other had nothing but an exhibits, may be considered as a complete
unworthy pride, most insolent in prosperity, and as miniature of a greater history. But the insigabiect and base in adversity." —p. 335-338.   miniature ofagreaterhistory. Buttheinsignificance of the events, and the obscurity of
In making these miscellaneous extracts, for the persons, take away all interest from the
the amusement of our readers, we are afraid  story; and our admiration of Colonel Hutchthat we have too far lost sight of the worthy inson's firmness, and disinterestedness and
colonel, for whose honour the whole record valour, is scarcely sufficient to keep our attenwas designed; and-though the biography of a tion alive through the languishing narrative
private person, however eminent, is seldom  of the obscure warfare in which he was emof much consequence to the general reader, ployed.
except where it illustrates the manners of the    It has often been remarked, and for the
times, or connects with the public history of honour of our country can never be too often




LIFE OF COLONEL HUTCHINSON.                                  177
repeated, that history affords no example of a late King.  Such were the liberal pursuits
civil contest carried on for years at the point and elegant recreations of one whom  all our
of the sword, and yet producing so little fero- recent histories would lead us to consider as
city in the body of the people, and so few  a gloomy fanatic, and barbarous bigot!
instances of particular violence or cruelty.   Upon the death of the Protector, he again
No proscriptions-no executions-no sacking  took his seat in Parliament, for the county of
of cities, or laying waste of provinces —no Nottingham; and was an indignant spectator
vengeance wreaked, and indeed scarcely any  of the base proceedings of Monk, and the
severity inflicted, upon those who were noto- headlong and improvident zeal of the people
riously hostile, unless found actually in arms. in the matter of the restoration. In the course
Some passages in the wars of Henry IV., as of the debate on the treatment to be dealt to
narrated by Sully, approach to this character; the regicides, such of them as were members
but the horrible massacres with which that of the House rose in their places, and made
contest was at other stages attended, exclude  such a defence of their conduct as they reit from all parallel with the generous hostility  spectively thought it admitted of.  The fol
of England. This book is full of instances, not lowing passage is very curious, and gives us
merely of mutual toleration, but of the most a high idea of the readiness and address of
cordial friendship subsisting between indi- Colonel Hutchinson in a situation of extraorviduals actually engaged in the opposite par- dinary difficulty.
ties.  In particular, Sir Allan Apsley, Mrs.   "When it came to Inglesbies turne, he, with
Hutchinson's brother, who commanded a troop  many teares, profest his repentance for that murther;
of horse for the King, and was frequently  and told a false tale, how Cromwell held his hand,
employed in the same part of the country and forc'd him to subscribe the sentence! and made
where Colonel Hutchinson commanded for a most whining recantation; after which he retir'd,
the Parliament, is represented throughout as and another had almost ended, when Collonell
living on a footing of the greatest friendship  Hutchinson, who was not there at the beginning,
living on a footing of the greatest friendship  came in, and was told what they were about, and
and cordiality with this valiant relative. Un- that it would be expected he should say something.
der the protection of mutual passes, they pay  He was surpriz'd with a thing he expected not; yet
frequent visits to each other, and exchange neither then, nor in any the like occasion, did he
various civilities and pieces of service, with- ever faile himselfe, but told them,' That for his
out any attempt on either side to seduce the actings in those dayes, if he had err'd, it was the
ou athem n c eitoh     is onsecee tnexperience of his age, and the defect of his iudgeother from the cause to which his conscience ment, and not the malice of his heart, which had
had attached him.  In the same way, the ever prompted him to persue the generall advantage
houses and families of various royalists are of his country more then his owne; and if the sacrileft unmolested in the district commanded by fice of him might conduce to the publick peace and
Colonel Hutchinson's forces; and officers con- settlement, he should freely submit his life and forducting troops to the siege of the castle, are tunes to their dispose; that the vain expence of his
ucting troops to the siege of the castl  are age, and the greate debts his publick employments
repeatedly invited to partake of entertain- had runne him into, as they were testimonies that
ments with the garrison.  It is no less curious neither avarice nor any other interest had carried
and unique to find Mrs. Hutchinson officiating  him on, so they yielded him iust cause to repent
as a surgeon to the wounded; and the Colonel that he ever forsooke his owne blessed quiett, to
administering spiritual consolation to some embarque in such a troubled sea, where he had
of the captives who had been mortally hurt made shipwrack of all things but a good conscience;
and as to that particular action of the king, he deby the men whom he had led into action.    sir'd them to believe he had that sence of it that beAfter the termination of the war, Colonel fitted an Englishman, a Christian, and a gentleHutchinson was returned to Parliament for man.' Assoone as the collonell had spoken, he
the town which he had so resolutely defended. retir'd into a roome, where Inglesbie was, with his 
He was appointed a member of the High eies yet red, who had call'd up a little spirit to sucor t etr  of the King    ceed his whinings, and embracing Collonell Hut-.
Court of Justice, for the trial of the King; — chinson,' O collonell,' say'd he,' did I ever imaginH.
and after long hesitation, and frequent prayer wee could be brought to this? Could I have sus-.
to God to direct him  aright in an affair of so pected it, when I brought them Lambert in the;
much moment, he deliberately concurled in other day, this sword should have redeem'd us from,
the sentence which was pronounced by it: —being dealt with as criminalls, by that people, for
Mrs. Hutchinson proudly disclaiming for him  whom we    io usly  expo se               ves.'
i  a   r  w  r  *. The collonel tol ahe had foreseene, ever since
the apology, afterwards so familiar in the those usurpers t h       t the lawfull authority of
mouths of his associates, of having been over- the land, to enthrone themselves, it could end in 
awbd by Cromwell.  His opinion of the Pro- nothing else; but the integrity of his heart, in all.
tector. and of his government, has been pretty  he had done, made him as chearefully ready to.
fully explained in the extracts we have already  suffer as to triumph in a good cause. The result
of the house that day was to suspend Cellonell4
given.  During that usurpation, he lived in  Hutchinson and the rest from sitting in the house.
almost unbroken retirement, at Owthorpe; Monke, after all his greate professions, now sate
where he occupied himself in superintending  still, and had not one word to interpose for any perthe education of his children, whom he him- soin, but was as forward to sett vengeance on foot
self instructed in music and other elegant as any man.'-pp. 367-369.
accomplishments; in the embellishment of    He was afterwards comprehended in the,
his residence by building and planting; in act of amnesty, and with some difficulty obadministering justice to his neighbours, and  tained his pardon; upon which he retired to
in making a very choice collection of painting  the country; but was soon after brought to
and sculpture, for which he had purchased a town, in order to see if he could not be pre.
number of articles out of the cabinet of the vailed on to give evidence against such of the
12




178                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
regicides as it was resolved to bring to trial. time every day on the beach; but this mitiga&
The Inglesby who is commemorated in the tion came too late.  A sort of aguish ferer,
preceding extract, is known to have been the brought on by damp and confinement, ha(a
chief informer on that occasion; and Colonel settled on his constitution; and, in little more
Hutchinson understood, that it was by his in- than a month after his removal from the
stigation that he also had been called as a Tower, he was delivered by death from the
witness. His deportment, when privately ex- mean and cowardly oppression of those whom
amined by the Attorney-General, is extremely he had always disdained either to flatter oi
characteristic, and includes a very fine and betray.
bitter piece of irony on his base associate,   England should be proud, we think, of
who did not disdain to save himself by false- having given birth to Mrs. Hutchinson and
hood and treachery. When pressed to specify her husband; and chiefly because their charsome overt acts against the prisoners,    acters are truly and peculiarly English; according to the standard of those times in which
-" the collonell answered him, that in a busi- national characters were most distinguishable.
nesse transacted so many years agoe, wherein life Not exempt, certainly, from errors and defects,
was concern'd, he durst not beare a testimony; they yet seem to us to'hold out a lofty example
having at that time bene so little an observer, that of substantial dignitto hold virtue; a lofty example
he could not remember the least title of that most         y and virtue; and to possess
eminent circumstance, of Cromwell'sforcing Collo- most of those talents and principles by which
nell Inglesby to sett to his unwilling hand, which, if public life is made honourable, and privacy
his life had depended on that circumstance, he could delightful. Bigotry must at all times debase,:zot have affirm'd!' And then, sir,' sayd he,'if I and civil dissension embitter our existence;
have lost so great a thing as that, it cannot be ex- but in the ordinary course of events, we ma
pected lesse eminent passages remaine with me.'   u
p. 379.  safely venture to assert, that a nation which
produces many such wives and mothers as
I.e was not thought proper to examine him  Mrs. Lucy Hutchinson, must be both great
on the trial; and he was allowed, for about a and happy.
year, to pursue his innocent occupations in   For the Reverend Julius Hutchinson, the
the retirement of a country life. At last he editor of these Memoirs, it is easy to see that
was seized, upon suspicion of being concern- he is considerably perplexed and distracted,
ed in some treasonable conspiracy; and, between a natural desire to extol those illusthough no formal accusation was ever exhib- trious ancestors, and a fear of being himself
ited against him, and no sort of evidence spe- mistaken for a republican. So he gives us
ifiMed as the ground of his detention, was alternate notes in laud of the English levellers,
conveyed to London, and committed a close and in vituperation of the atheists and jacopriscner to the Tower. In this situation, he bins of France. From all this, our charity
was treated with the most brutal harshness; leads us to infer, that the said Reverend Julius
all which he bore with great meekness of Hlutchinson has not yet obtained that preferspiiit, and consoled himself in the constant ment in the church which it would be convestudy of the Seriptures, and the society of nient for him to possess; and that, when he
his magnanimous consort, who, by the power- is promoted according to his merits, he will
ful intercession of her brother, was at last ad- speak more uniformly in a manner becoming
mitted to his presence, After an imprison- his descent. In the mean time, we are very
ment of ten months, during which the most much obliged to him for this book, and for the
urgent solicitations could neither obtain his pains he has taken to satisfy us of its authendeliverance, nor the specification of the charges ticity, and of the accuracy of its publication.
against him, he was suddenly ordered down We do not object to the old spelling, which
to Sandown castle in Kent, and found, upon occasions no perplexity; but when the work
his arrival, that he was to be closely confined comes to another edition, we would recomin a damp and unwholesome apartment, in mend it to him to add a few dates on the
which another prisoner, of the meanest rank margin, to break his pages into more paraand most brutal manners was already estab- graphs, and to revise his punctuation.  He
lished. This aggravated oppression and in- would make the book infinitely more saleable,
dignity, however, he endured with a cheerful too, if, without making the slightest variation
magnanimity; and conversed with his wife in what is retained, he would omit about two
land daughter, as she expresses it, "with as hundred pages of the siege of Nottingham,
pleasant and contented a spirit as ever in his and other parish business; especially as the
whole life. Sir Allen Apsley at last procured whole is now put beyond the reach of loss or
-in order for permitting him to walk a certain corruption by the present full publication.




MEMOIRS OF LADY FANSHAWE.                               17*
(rDttober, 1829.)
Mfemoirs of LADr  FANSHAWE, Wife of the Right Honourable Sir Richard Fanshawe, Baronet
Ambassador from Charles the Second to the Court of Madrid in 1665. Written by herself.
To which are added, Extracts from the Correspondence of Sir Richard Fanshawe. 8vo. pp.
360. London: 1829.
THERE is not much in this book, either of voted attachment, and participated not unindividual character, or public story. It is, worthily in all his fortunes and designs,.-as,
indeed, but a small affair-any way; but yet consequently, in continual contact with the
pleasing, and not altogether without interest movements which then agitated society ) and
or instruction. Though it presents us with no had her full share of the troubles and tr:ur. pas
traits of historical importance, and but few of which belonged to such an existence. Her
personal passion or adventure, it still gives us memoirs ought, therefore, to have formed an
a peep at a scene of surpassing interest from  interesting counterpart to those of Mrs. Hutcha new quarter; and at all events adds one inson; and to have recalled to us, with equal
other item to the great and growing store of force and vivacity, the aspect under which
those contemporary notices which are every those great events presented themselves to a
day familiarizing us more and more with the female spectatress and sufferer, of the oppoliving character of by-gone ages; and without site faction. But, though the title of the book
which we begin, atjlast, to be sensible, that we and the announcements of the editor hold
can neither enter into their spirit, Ilor even un- out this promise, we must say that the body of
derstand their public transactions. Writings it falls far short of performance: and, whether
not meant for publication, nor prepared for it be that her side of the question did not admit
purposes of vanity or contention, are the only of the same force of delineation or loftiness of
memorials in which the true "form and pres- sentiment; or. that the individual chronicler
sure" of the ages which produce them are has been less fortunately selected, it is certain
ever completely preserved; and, indeed, the that, in point both of interest and instruction;
only documents from which the great events in traits of character, warmth of colouring, or
which are blazoned on their records can ever exaltation of feeling, there is no sort of combe satisfactorily explained.  It is in such parison between these gossiping, and, though
writings alone, —confidential letters private affectionate, yet relatively cold and feeble
diaries —family anecdotes —and personal re- memoranda, and the earnest, eloquent, and
monstrances, apologies, or explanations.-that graphic representations of the puritan heroine.
the true springs of action are disclosed-as Nor should it be forgotten, even in hinting at
well as the obstructions and impediments, such a parallel, that, in one important respect,
whether in the scruples of individuals or the the royalist cause also must be allowed to
general temper of society, by which their have been singularly happy in its female repoperation is so capriciously, and, but for these resentative.  Since. if it may be said with
revelations, so unaccountably controlled.- some show of reason, that Lucy Hutchinson
They are the true key to the cipher in which and her husband had too many elegant tastes
public annals are almost necessarily written; and accomplishments to be taken as fair speciand their disclosure, after long intervals of mens of the austere and godly republicans;
time, is almost as good as the revocation of it certainly may be retorted, with at least equal
their writers from the dead-to abide our in- justice, that the chaste and decorous Lady
terrogatories, and to act over again, before us, Fanshawe, and her sober diplomatic lord,
in the very dress and accents of the time, a shadow out rather too favourably the general
portion of the scenes which they once guided manners and morals of the cavaliers.
or adorned. It is not a very striking portion,   After all, perhaps, the true secret of her
perhaps, that is thus recalled by the publica- inferiority. in all at least that relates to politition before us; but whatever interest. it pos- cal interest, may be found in the fact, that the
sesses is mainly of this character. It belongs fair writer, though born and bred a royalist,
to an era, to which, of all others in our history. and faithfully adhering to her husband in his
curiosity will always be most eagerly directed  efforts and sufferings in the cause, was not
and it constantly rivets our attention, by ex- naturally, or of herself, particularly studious
citing expectations which it ought, in truth, of such matters; or disposed to occupy herto have fulfilled; and suggesting how much self more than was necessary with any public
more interesting and instructive it might so concern. She seems to have followed, like a
easily have been made.                    good wife and daughter, where her parents or
Lady Fanshawe was, as is generally known, her husband led her; and to have adopted
the wife of a distinguished cavalier, in the their opinions with a dutiful and implicit conHeroic Age of the civil wars and the Protec- fidence, but without being very deeply moved
torate; and survived till long after the Res- by the principles or passions which actuated
*oration. Her husband was a person of no those from whom they were derived; while
mean figure in those great transactions; and Lucy Hutchinson not only threw her whole
she, who adhered to him with the most de- heart and soul into the cause of her party




180                    HISTORY AND  HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
but, like Lady Macbeth or Madame Roland, years, to see my daughter a woman: to which 0Lk.q
imparted her own fire to her more phlegmatic  answered, It is done: and then, at that instant, I
helpmate,- "chastised him,"' when neces- awoke out of my trance; and Dr. Howlsworth
sary   with the valour of her tongue," and  did there affirm, that that day she died made just
~~~~~sary,:' ~ ~   ~     ~    b          fifteen years from that time." —pp. 26-28.
cheered him on, by the encouragement of her
high example, to all the ventures and sacri-   This gift of dreaming dreams, or seeing
fices, the triumphs or the martyrdoms; that visions seems, indeed, to have been hered.
lay visibly across her daring and lofty course. tary in the family; for the following is given on
The Lady Fanshawe, we take it, was of a less the credit of the fair t riter's own experience.
passionate temperament; and her book, ac- When she and her husband went to Ireland
cordingly, is more like that of an ordinary  on their way to Portugal, they were honourwoman, though living in extraordinary times. ably entertained by all the distinguished royalShe begins, no doubt, with a good deal of love ists who came in their way.  Among others,
and domestic devotion, and even echoes, from  she has recorded that,
that sanctuary. certain notes of loyalty; but,   "We went to the Lady Honor O'Brien's, a lady
in very truth, is chiefly occupied, for the best that went for a maid, but few believed it! She
part of her life, with the sage and serious was the youngest daughter of the Earl of Thomond.
business of some nineteen or twenty accouche- There we staid three nights. The first of' which I
mens, which are happily accomplished in dif- was surprised by being laid in a chamber, where,
ferent parts of Europe; and seems, at last, to about one o'clock, I heard a voice that wakened
me. I drew the curtain, and, in the casement of
be wholly engrossed in the ceremonial of the window, I saw, by the light of the moon, a
diplomatic presentations, —the description of woman leaning into the window, through the casecourt dresses, state  coaches, liveries. and  ment, in white, with red hair, and pale and ghastly
jewellery,-the solemnity of processions, and  complexion. She spoke loud, and in a tone I had
receptions by sovereign princes,-and the due never heard, thrice,' A  horse!' and then, with a
sigh more like the wind than -breath, she vanished,
interchane  f presents and compliments with  and, to me, her body looked more like a thick cloud
persons of worship and dignity.  Fully one- than substance. I was so much frightened, that
third of her book is taken up with such goodly  my hair stood on end, and my night-clothes fell off.
matter; and nearly as much with the geneal- I pulled and pinched your father, who never woke
ogy of her kindred and a faithful record of during the disorder I was in; but at last was much
their marriages, deaths. and  burials.  From  surprised to see me in this fright, and more so when
heir igs  dah~n bras.o   I related the story and showed -him  the window
the remainder, however, some curious things opened. Neither of us slept any more that night,
may be gathered; and we shall try to extract but he entertained me with telling me how much
what strikes us as most characteristic.  We more these apparitions were usual in this country
may begin with something that preceded her than in England! and we concluded the cause to
own recollection.  The following singular le- be the great superstition of the Irish, and the want
end relates  to her mother; and is given, it of that knowing faith, which should defend them
g.en  relates to her mother; and is given, it firom the power of the devil, which he exercises
wfill be observed, on very venerable author- among them very much."
Ity:                                             Ingenious and orthodox as this solution of
"Dr. Howlsworth preached her funeral sermon, the mystery must be allowed to be, we conin which, upon his own knowledge, he told, before fess we should have been inclined to prefer
many hundreds of people, this accident following: that of the fair sleeper. having had a fit of
That my mother, being sick to death of a fever threehat o the             fr           sleeper having had a fit of
months after I was born, which was the occasion nightmare; had it not been for the conclusive
she gave me suck no longer, her friends and ser- testimony of the putative virgin of the house
vants thought, to all outward appearance, that she of Thomond, who supplies the following aswas dead, and so lay almost two days and a night; tonishing confirmation; and leads us rather
but Dr. Winston, coming to comfort my father, to suspect that the whole might have been a
went into my mother's room, and looking earnest- trick  to rid herself the sooner of their sc
ly on her face, said she was so handsome, and now        the sooner of their srulooks so lovely, I cannot think she is dead; and pulous and decorous company.
suddenly took a lancet out of his pocket, and with  About five o'clock," continues Lady Fan.
it cut the sole of her foot, which bled. Upon this, shawe "the lady of the house came to see us,
he. immediately caused her to be laid upon the bed
again, and to be rubbed, and such means, as she sayong she had not been in bedse anight, because
a cousin O'Brien of hers, whose ancestors had
came to life, and opening her eyes, saw two of her
kinswomen stand by her, my Lady Kollys and owned that house, had desired her to stay with
kinswomn stand by her, my Lady Knollys and him in his chamber, and that he died at two o'clock,
my Lady Russell, both with great wide sleeves, and she said,  I wish you to have had no disais the fashion then was, and said, Did not you turbance, for'tis the custom of the place, that,
promise me fifteen years, and are you come again when any of the family are dying, the shape of a
already? which they not understanding, persuaded
her to keep her spiritsquiet in that great weakness woman appears   n  the  window every nigh t till they
wherein she then was; but, some hours after, she be dead. This woman was many ages ago got
wherein she then was; but, some hours after, she with child by the owner of this place, who murdesired my father and Dr. Howlswort     hilace, who mur
desired my father and Dr. Howlsworth might be dered her in his garden, and flung her into the river
left alone with her, to whom she said, I will ac- under the window, but truly I thought'not of it
quain.t you, that, during the time of' my trance, I when I lodgedyou here, it being the best room in
was in great quiet, but in a place I could neither the house.' We made little reply to her speech,
distinguish nor describe; but the sense of' leaving but disposed ourselves to be gone suddenly."
my girl, who is dearer to me than all my children,
remained a trouble upon my spirits. Suddenly I   We shall close this chapter of the supersaw two by me, cloathed in long white garments, natura with the following rather remarkable
and methought I fell down with my face in the ghost story, with the follo cing rateder remarkable
dust; and they asked me why I was troubled in o ghost story, which is calculated we think, to
great happiness. I replied, 0 let me have the same make a strong impression on the imagination.
grant given to Hezekiah, that I may live fifteen Our diligent chronicler picked it up, it seems,




MEMOIRS OF LADY FANSHAWE.                                     181
an her way tnrough Canterbury in the year ink, and paper, which was your father's trade, and
1663; and it is thus nonourably attested:      by it, I assure you, we lived better than those who
were born to 20001. a year, as long as he had his
"And here I cannot omit relating the ensuing liberty."-pp. 37, 38.
story, confirmed by Sir Thomas Batten, Sir Arnold    The next scene presents both of them in so
Brearnes, the Dean of Canterbury, with many more    The next scene presents both of them in so
gentlemen and persons of this town.            amiable and respectable a light, that we think
"There lives not far from Canterbury a gentle- it but justice to extract it, though rather long,
man, called Colonel Colepeper, whose mother without any abridgment.  It is, indeed, one
was widow unto the Lord Strangford: this gentle-                    and interesting psage
man had a sister, who lived with him, as the world in the book.  They had now gone to Bristol,
said, in too much love. She married Mr. Porter.
This brother and sister being both atheists and in 1645.
living a life according to their profession, went in
a frolick into a vault of their ancestors, where, be- "My husband had provided very good lodgings
fore they returned, they pulled some of their father's for us, and as soon as he could come home from
and mother's hairs! Within a very few days after, the council, where he was at my arrival, he with
Mrs. Porter fell sick and died. Her brotherl kept all expressions of joy received me in his arms, and
her body in a coffin set up in his buttery, saying it gave me a hundred pieces of gold, saying,  I know
would not be long before he died, and then they  thou that keeps my heart so well, will keep my
would be both buried together; but from the night fortune, which from this time I will ever put into
after her death, until the time that we were told the thy hands as God shall bless me with increase;'
story, which was three months, they say that a head, and  now  I  thought myself a perfect queen, and
as cold as death, with curled hair like his sister's, my husband so glorous a crown, that I more valued
did ever lie by him wherever he slept, notwith-mvself to be called by his name than born a
standing he removed to several places and countries princess; for I knew him very wise and very good,
to avoid it; and several persons told us they also and his soul doated on me,-upon whichconfidence
had felt this apparition."                     I will tell you what happened. My Lady Rivers,
a brave woman, and one that had suffered many
We may now go back a little to the affairs of thousand pounds loss for the king, and whom I had
this world. Deep and devoted attachments are  a great reverence for, and she a kindness for me as
more frequently conceived in circumstances a kinswoman, in discourse she tacitly commended
of distress and danger than in any other: the knowledge of state affairs; and that some
women were very happy in a good understanding
and, accordingly, the love and marriage of thereof, as my Lady Aubigny, Lady Isabel Thynne,
Sir Richard Fanshawe and his lady befel dur- and divers others, and yet none was at first more
ing their anxious and perilous residence with  capable than I; that in the night she knew there
the court at Oxford, in 1644.  The following  came a post from Paris from the queen, and that
little sketch of the life they passed there is she would be extremely glad to hear what the
curious and  interesting:                      queen commanded the king in order to his affairs;
saying, if I would ask my husband privately, he' My father commanded my sister and myself to would tell me what he found in the packet, and I
come to him to Oxford, where the Court then was; might tell her. I, that was young and innocent, and
but we, that had till that hour lived in great plenty  to that day had never in my mouth' What news?'
and great order, found ourselves like fishes out of began to think there was more in inquiring into
the water, and the scene so changed, that we knew  public affairs than I thought of; and that it being a
not at all how to act any part but obedience; for, fashionable thing would make me.more beloved of
from as good a house as any gentleman of England  my husband, if that had been possible, than I was.
had, we came to a baker's house in an obscure  When my husband returned home from council,
street; and from rooms well furnished, to lie in a after welcoming him, as his custom ever was, he
very bad bed in a garret, t one dish of meat, and went with his handful of papers into his study for an
that not the best ordered, no money, for we were hour or more; I followed him; he turned hastily, and
as poor as Job, nor clothes more than a man or two said,' What wouldst thou have, my life?' I told
brought in their cloak bags: we had the perpetual him, I heard the prince had received a packet from
discourse of losing and gaining towns and men: at the queen, and I guessed it was that in his hand, and
the windows the sad spectacle of war, sometimes I desired to know what was in it; he smilingly replagues, sometimes sicknesses of other kind, by plied,' My love, I will immediately come to thee;
reason of so many people being packed together, pray thee go, for I am very busy:' when he came
as, I believe, there never was before of. that quality; out of his closet I revived my suit; he kissed me,
always in want, yet I must needs say, that most and talked of other things. At supper I would eat
bore it with a martyr-like cheerfulness. For my nothing; he as usual sat by me, and drank often to
own part, I began to think we should all, like me, which was his custom, and was full of discourse
Abraham, live in tents all the days of our lives. to company that was at table. Going to bed I asked
The king sent my father a warrant for a baronet, again; and said I could not believe he loved me if
but he returned it with thanks, saying he had too he refused to tell me all he knew; but he answer.
much honour of his knighthood, which his majesty  ed nothing, but stopped my mouth with kisses. So
had honoured him with some years before, for the we went to bed; I cried, and he went to sleep!
fortune he now possessed." —pp. 35-37.         Next morning early, as his custom was, he called
to rise, but began to discourse with me first, to
They were married very privately the year which I made no reply; he rose, came on the other
after; and certainly entered upon life with lit- side of the bed and kissed me, and drew the curtle but their mutual love to cheer and support tains softly, and went to court. When he came
them; but it seems to have been sufficient.  home to dinner, he presently came to me as was
usual, and when I had him by the hand, I said,
"Both his fortune and my promised portion,' Thou dost not care to see me troubled;' to which
which was made 10,0001., were both at that time in he, taking me in his arms, answered,' My dearest
expectation; and we might truly be called merchant soul, nothing upon earth can afflict me like that:
adventurers, for the stock we set up our trading  But when you asked me of my business, it was
with did not amount to twenty pounds betwixt us; wholly out of my power to satisfy thee; for my life
but, however, it was to us as a little piece of armour and fortune shall be thine, and every thought of
is against a bullet, which, if it be right placed, my heart in which the trust I am in may not be
though no bigger than a shilling, serves as well as revealed: But my honour is my own; which I
a whole suit o armour; so our stock bought pen, cannot preserve if I communicate the prince's




182                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
affairs; and, pray thee, with this answer rest satis- darings of Mrs. Hutchinson,-though we call.
fied.' So great was his reason and goodness, that, not say that the occasion called so clearly fol
upon consideration, it made my folly appear to me their dis
so vile, that from that day until the day of his
death, I never thought fit to ask him any business, gal and
but what he communicated freely to me, in order    When we had just passed the Straits, we saw
coming towards us, with full sails, a Turkish galley,
After the ill success of the royal arms had  well manned, and we believed we should be all
made it necessary for the Prince to retire be- carried away slaves, for this man had so laden his
yond seas, Lady Fanshawe and her husband  ship with goods for Spain, that his guns were useattended him to the Scilly Islands. We giveless, though the ship carried sixty guns. He called
attended   hinm to the Scilly Islands. We give  for brandy, and after he had well drunken, and all
this natural and simple picture of their dis- his men, which were near two hundred, he called
comforts on that expedition:-                  for arms, and cleared the deck as well as he could,
resolving to fight rather than lose his ship, which
" The next day, after having been pillaged, and was worth 30,0001. This was sad for us passengers:
extremely sick and big with child, I was set on but my husband bid us be sure to keep in the cabin,
shore, almost dead, in the island of Scilly; when  and not appear, the women, which would make the
we had got to our quarters near the castle, where Turks think that we were a man-of-war, but if
the prince lay, I went immediately to bed, which  they saw women, they would take us for merchants,
was so vile that my footman ever lay in a better, and board us. He went upon the deck, and took a
and we had but three in the whole house, which gun and bandoliers, and sword, and, with the rest
consisted of four rooms, or rather partitions, two of the ship's company, stood upon deck expecting
low rooms, and two little lofts, with a ladder to go the arrival of the Turkish man-of-war. This beast,
up: in one of these they kept dried fish, which was the captain, had locked me up in the cabin; I knockhis trade, and in this my husband's two clerks lay; ed and called long to no purpose, until at length the
one there was for my sister, and one for myself, cabin-boy came and opened the door. I, all in
and one amongst the rest of the servants; but tears, desired him to be so good as to give me his
when 1 waked in the morning, I was so cold I blue thrum cap he wore, and his tarred coat, which
knew not what to do; but the daylight discovered  he did, and I gave him half-a-crown, and putting
that my bed was near swimming with the sea, them on, and flinging away my night-clothes, I
which the owner told us afterwards it never did- crept up softly and stood upon the deck by my
but at spring tides."                          husband's side, as free from sickness and fear as, I
We must not omit her last interview with  confess, from discretion; but it was the effect of
her unfortunate Sovereign, which took place  that passion which I could never master.
hampunfortonate Couertiwe   whis r wa  h lasenn   p" By this time the two vessels were engaged in
at Hampton Court, when his star was hastening  parley, and so well satisfied with speech and sight
to its setting!  It is the only interview with  of each other's forces, that the Turks' man-of-war
that unhappy Prince of which she has left tacked about, and we continued our course. But
any notice; and is) undoubtedly, very touch- when your father saw it convenient to retreat, looking  and amiable.                              ing upon me, he blessed himself, and snatched me
iup in his arms, saying,'Good God, that love can
A During his stay at Hampton Court, my hus- make this change!' and though he seemingly chid
band was with him; to whom he was pleased to me, he would laugh at it as often as he remembered
talk much of his concerns, and gave him three that voyage."
credentials for Spain, with private instructions, and
letters for his service: But God, for our sins, dis-    What follows is almost as strong a proof of
posed his Majesty's affairs otherwise. I went three that " love which casteth out fear;" while it
times to pay my duty to him, both as 1 was the is more unexceptionable on the score of prudaughter of his servant, and wife of his servant.
The last time I ever saw him, when I took mydence.  Sr Rchard, being in ams for the
leave, I could not refrain from weeping, When he King at the fatal battle of Worcester, was af
had saluted me, I prayed to God to preserve his terwards taken prisoner, and brought to Lon.
majesty with long life and happy years; he stroked  don; to which place his faithful consort imme on the cheek, and said,' Child, if God pleaseth mediately repaired, where, in the midst of
it shall be so! both you and I must submit to God's her anxieties
will, and you know in what hands I am in;' then
turning to your father, he said,'Be sure, Dick, to    "I met a messenger from  him with a letter,
tell my son all that I have said, and deliver those which advised me of his condition, and told me he
letters to my wife; pray God bless her! I hope I was very civilly used, and said little more, but that
shall do well;' and taking him in his arms, said, I should be in some room at Chlaring Cross, where' Thou hast ever been an honest man, and I hope he had promise from his keeper that he should rest
God will bless thee, and make thee a happy ser- there in my company at diiner-time; this was
vant to my son, whom I have charged in my letter meant to him as a great favour. I expected him
to cetinue his love, and trust to you;' adding,' I with impatience, and on the day appointed provided
do promise you, that if ever I am restored to my a dinner and room, as ordered, in which I was with
dignity, I will bountifully reward you for both your my father and some more of our friends, where,
rservice and sufferings.' Thus did we part from  about eleven of the clock, we saw hundreds of
that glorious sun, that within a few months after poor soldiers, both English and Scotch, march all
was murdered, to the grief of all Christians that naked on foot, and many with your father, who
were not forsaken by God."                     was very cheerful in appearance; who, after he had
These are almost sufficient specimens of spoken and saluted me and his friends there, said,
for it would not be fair to'Pray let us not lose time, for I know not how
the work before us; for it would not be fair to  little I have to spare; this is the chance of war;
extract the whole substance of it.  However, nothing venture, nothing have; so let us sit down
we must add the following striking trait of and be merry whilst we may;' then taking my
heroism  and devoted affection, especially as hand in his, and kissing me,' Cease weeping, no
we have spoken rather too disparagingly of  other thing upon earth can move me; remember
the fair writer's endowment of those qualities. we are all at God's disposal.'
the fairt wroer coursge and.lovetoherhusband    "During the time of' his imprisonment, I fail6d
In point of courage and love to her husband  not constantly to go, when the clock struck four in
it is Qaite on a level, perhaps with any of the  the morning, with a dark lantern in my hand al;




MEMOIRS OF SAMUEL PEPYS.                                  1a
alone and on foot, from my lodging in Chancery coach, the soldiers stood to their arms, and the
Lane, at my cousin Young's, to Whitehall, in at lieutenant that held the colours displaying them,
the entry that went out of King Street into the which is never done to any one but kings, or such
bowling-green. There I would go under his window  as represent their persons: I stood still all the
and softly call him; he, after the first time except- while, then at the lowering of the colours to the
ed, never failed to put out his head at the first call; ground, they received for them a low courtesy from
thus we talked together, and sometimes I was so me, and for himself a bow; then taking coach, with
wet with the rain, that it went in at my neck and very many persons, both in coaches and on foot, I
out at my heels. He directed how I should make went to the duke's palace, where I was again re
my addresses, which I did ever to their general, ceived by a guard of his excellency's, with the
Cromwell, who had a great respect for your father, same ceremony of the king's colours as before.
and would have bought him off to his service, upon Then I was received by the duke's brother and
any terms.                                   near a hundred persons of quality. I laid my hand
"Being one day to solicit for my husband's upon the wrist of his excellency's right hand; he
liberty for a time, he bid me bring, the next day, a putting his cloak thereupon, as the Spanish fashion
certificate from a physician that he was really ill. is, went up the stairs, upon the top of which stood
Immediately I went to Dr. Batters, that was by the duchess and her daughter, who received me with
chance both physician to Cromwell and to our great civility, putting me into every door, and all
family, who gave me one very favourable in my my children, till we came to sit down in her excelhusband's behalf. I delivered it at the Council lency's chamber, where she placed me upon her
Chamber, at three of the clock that afternoon, as right hand, upon cushions, as the fashion of this
he commanded me, and he himself moved, that court is, being very rich, and laid upon Persian
seeing they could make no use of his imprisonment, carpets."
whereby to lighten them in their business, that he   " The two dukes embraced my husband with
might have his liberty upon 40001. bail, to take a great kindness, welcoming him to the place, and
course of physic, he being dangerously ill. Many the Duke of Medina Celi led me to my coach, an
spake against it; but most Sir Henry Vane, who honour that he had never done any but once, when
said he would be as instrumental, for ought he he waited on your queen to help her on the like
knew, to hang them all that sat there, if ever he occasion. The Duke d'Alcala led my eldest daughhad opportunity; but if he had liberty for a time, ter, and the younger led my second, and the Govthat he might take the engagement before he went ernor of Cadiz, Don Antonio de Pimentel, led the
out; upon which Cromwell said,'I never knew  third. Mrs. Kestian carried Betty in her arms."
that the engagement was a medicine for the scorbutic!' They, hearing their general say so, thought There is great choice of this sort for those
it obliged him, and so ordered him his liberty upon who like it; and not a little of the more
-bail."~                                     solemn and still duller discussion of diplomatic
These are specimens.of what we think Dest etiquette and precedence.  But, independent
in the work: but. as there may be readers of these. and of the genealogies and obituawho wtwould take an interest in her descrisption re  which are not altogether without interest
who would take an interest in her description there is enough both of heart and sense and
of court ceremonies, or, at least, like to see thee s enough both of heart and sense and
how she managees them, we shall conclude observation, in these memoirs, at once to repay gentle and intelligent readers for the
with a little fragment of such a description   pay gentle  and  intelligent  readers for the
trouble of perusing them, and to stamp a
"This afternoon I went to pay my visit to the character of amiableness and respectability
Duchess of Albuquerque. When I came to take on the memory of their author.
(No timbcr 1825.)
Memoirs of SAMUEL PEPYS, Esq. F.R.S., Secretary to the Admiralty in the Reign of Charle.
II. and James II., comprising his Diary from  1659 to 1669, deciphered by the Rev. John
Smith, A. B., of St. John's College, Cambridge, from  the original Shorthand MS. in the
Pepystan Library, and a Selection from his Private Correspondence. Edited by RICHARD
LORD BRAYBROOKE.  2 vols. 4to.  London: 1825.
WE have a great indulgence, we confess, and tastes, and principles, have been corn.
for the taste, or curiosity, or whatever it may monly found associated or disunited:  Ande.
be called, that gives its value to such publica- as, in uncultivated lands, we can often judge.
tions as this; and are inclined to think the of their inherent fertility by the quality of the.
desire of knowing, pretty minutely, the man- weeds they spontaneously produce'- so we,
ners and habits of former times,-of under- may learn, by such an inspeetionQ of the moral:
standing, in all their details, the character and growths of a country, compared~ with its sub.
ordinary way of life and conversation of our sequent history, what prevailing manners are.
forefathers-a very liberal and laudable de- indicative of vice or of' virtue.-what existing:
sire; and by no means to be confounded with follies foretell approaching wisdom - what
that hankering after contemporary slander, forms of licentiousness give promise of comrn
with which this age is so miserably infested, ing purity) and what of deeper degradationand so justly reproached. It is not only curi- what uncertain lights, in short5, announce the
ous to see from what beginnings, and by what rising, and what the setting sun! While, in
steps. we have come to be what we are:-  like manner, we may trace in the same records
But it is most important, for the future and the connection of public and private morality)
for *he present, to ascertain what practices, and the mutual action and reactin qaf govern.




t-84                 HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
ment and manners;-and discover what indi- were produced on the society of Athens o0
vidual corruptions spring from political dis- Sparta by the battles of Marathon or Salamis
honour - what domestic profligacy leads to we are indebted not so much to the histories
the sacrifice of freedom —and what national of Herodotus, Xenophon, or Thucydides, as
virtues are most likely to resist the oppres- to the Deipnosophists of Athenraus-the anecsions, or yield to the seductions of courts.    dotes of Plutarch-the introductory and inciOf all these things History tells us little-  dental passages of the Platonic dialoguesand yet they are the most important that she the details of some of the private orationscould have been employed in recording. She and parts of the plays of Plautus and Terence,
has been contented, however, for the most apparently copied from the Greek comedies.
part, with detailing merely the broad and ap- For our personal knowledge of the Romans,
parent results-the great public events and again, we do not look to Livy, or Dionysiustransactions, in which the true working prin- or even to Caesar, Sallust, or Tacitus; but to
ciples of its destiny have their end and con- Horace, Petronius, Juvenal, and the other
summation; and points only to the wrecks or satirists-to incidental notices in the Orations
the triumphs that float down the tide of human and Dialogues of Cicero-and above all to his
affairs, without giving us any light as to those invaluable letters — followed up by those of
ground currents by which its central masses Pliny,-to intimations in Plutarch, and Seneca,
are governed, and of which those superficial and Lucian —to the books of the Civil lawappearances are, in most cases, the necessary and the biographies and anecdotes of the
though unsuspected effects.               Empire, from Suetonius to Procopius. Of the
Every one feels, we think, how necessary feudal times-the heroic age of modern Euthis information is, if we wish to understand rope-we have fortunately more abundant and
what antiquity really was, and, what manner minute information, both in the Romances of
of men existed in former generations. How  chivalry, which embody all the details of
vague and unsatisfactory, without it, are all upper life; and in the memoirs and chronicles
public annals and records of dynasties and of such writers as Commines and Froissart,
battles-of how little interest to private indi- which are filled with so many individual picviduals-of how little use even to philosophers tures and redundant particularities, as to leave
and statesmen!  Before we can apply any us scarcely any thing more to learn or to wish
example in history, or even comprehend its for, as to the manners and character, the temactual import, we must know something of per and habits, and even the daily life and
the character, both of the age and of the per- conversation of the predominating classes of
sons to which it belongs-and understand a society, who then stood for every thing in
good deal of the temper, tastes. and occupa- those countries: And, even with regard to
tions, both of the actors and the sufferers.-  their serfs and vassals, we are not without
Good and evil, in truth, change natures, with most distinct and intelligible lights-both in
a change of those circumstances; and we scattered passages of the works we have almay be lamenting as the most intolerable of ready referred to, in various ancient ballads
calamities, what was scarcely felt as an inflic- and legends relating to their condition, and in
tion, by those on whom it fell. Without this such invaluable records as the humorous and
knowledge, therefore, the most striking and more familiar tales of our immortal Chaucer.
important events are mere wonders, to be For the character and ordinary life of our
stared at-altogether barren of instruction-  more immediate ancestry, we may be said to
and probably leading us astray, even as occa- owe our chief knowledge of it to Shakespeare,
sions of sympathy or moral emotion. Those and the comic dramatists by whom he was
minute details, in shorty which History has so succeeded-reinforced and supported by the
often rejected as below her dignity, are indis- infinite quantity of obscure and insignificant
pensable to give life, certainty, or reality to matter which the industry of his commentaher delineations; and we should have little tors has brought back to light for his elucidahesitation in asserting, that no history is really tion-and which the matchless charm of his
worth any thing, unless it relate to a people popularity has again rendered both interesting
and an age of which we have also those hum- and familiar. The manners and habits of still
bler and more private memorials. It is not in later times are known to us, not by any means
the grand tragedy, or rather the epic fictions, by our public histories, but by the writers of
of History, that we learn the true condition of farces and comedies, polite essays, libels, and
former ages-the real character of past gene- satires-by collections of private letters, like
rations. or even the actual effects that were those of Gray, Swift, Arbuthnot, and Lord
produced on society or individuals at the time, Orford-by private memoirs or journals, such
by the great events that are there so solemnly as those of Mrs. Lucy Hutchinson, Swift's
recorded. If we have not some remnants or Journal to Stella, and Doddington's Diary —
some infusion of the Comedy of middle life, and, in still later times, by the best of our gay,we neither have any idea of the state and and satirical novels-by caricature prints-by
colour of the general existence, nor any just the better newspapers and magazines, —an('
understanding of the transactions about which by various minute accounts (in the manner of
we are reading.                           Boswell's Life of Johnson) of the private life
For what we know of the ancient Greeks and conversation of distinguished individuals.
for example-for all that enables us to ima-   The work before us relates to a period of
gine what sort of thing it would have been to which we have already very considerable
ave lived among them, or even what effects memorials. But it is, notwithstanding, of




MEMOIRS OF SAMUEL PEPYS.                              185
vory great interest and curiosity. A good subject whatever, and plainly engrossing, even
deal of what it contains derives, no doubt, its in the most agitating circumstances, no small
chief' interest from having happened one hun- share of the author's attention. Pernaps it is
dred and eighty years ago: But there is little to the same blot in his scutcheon, that we
of it that does not, for that very reason, throw  should trace a certain want of manliness in
valuable lights on our inter ediate history. his wvhole character and deportment. Certain
It consists, as the title shows,  a very minute it is at least, that there is room for such an
and copious Diary, continued from the year imputation. He appears before us, from first
1659 to 1669-and a correspondence, much to last, with the true temper, habits, and manless perfect and continuous, down nearly to ners of an Underling-obsequious to his supethe death of the author in 1703. Fortunately riors-civil and smooth to all men-lavish in
for the public part of the story, the author attentions to persons of influence whom he
was. from the very beginning, in immediate dislikes-and afraid and ashamed of being
contact with persons in high office and about seen with his best friends and benefactors,
court-and, still more fortunately for the pri- when they are supposed to be cut of favour
vate part, seems to have been possessed of -most solicitous to keep or.t of quarrels of
the most extraordinary activity, and the most all sorts-and ensuring his own safety, not
indiscriminating, insatiable, and miscellane- only by too humble and pacific a bearing in
ous curiosity, that ever prompted the re- scenes of contention, but by such stretches of
searches, or supplied the pen, of a daily simulation and dissimulation as we cannot
chronicler. Although excessively busy and easily reconcile to our notion of a brave and
diligent in his attendance at his office, he honourable man.
finds time to go to every play, to every exe-   To such an extent, indeed, is this carried
cution, to every procession, fire, concert, riot, that, though living in times of great actual,
trial, review, city feast, public dissection, or and greater apprehended changes, it is with
picture gallery that he can hear of. Nay, difficulty that we can guess, even from this
there seems scarcely to have been a school most copious and unreserved record of his inexamination, a wedding, christening, charity most thoughts, what were really his political
sermon, bull-baiting, philosophical meeting, opinions, or whether he ever had any. We
or private merry-making in his neighbour- learn, indeed, from one passage, that in his
hood, at which he was not sure to make his early youth he had been an ardent Roundappearance, and mindful to record all the head, and had in that capacity attended with
particulars. He is the first to ffear all the exultation the execution of the King-observcourt scandal, and all the public news-to ing to one of his companions at the time, that
observe the changes of fashions, and the if he had been to make a sermon on the occaknl-enfal of parties-to pick up family gossip, sion, he would have chosen for his text the
and to retail philosophical intelligence-to words, " The memory of the wicked shall
criticise every new house'or carriage that is rot."  This, to be sure, was when he was
built —every new book or new beauty that only in his eighteenth year —but he seems
appears-every measure the King adopts, afterwards to have accepted of a small office
and every mistress he discards.           in the Republican Court of Exchequer, of
For the rest of his character, he appears to which he is in possession for some time after
-have been an easy tempered, compassionate, the commencement of his Diary. That work
and kind man; combining an extraordinary begins in January 1659, while Monk was on
diligence and regularity in his official busi- his march from Scotland; and yet, not only
ness and domestic economy, with a singular does he continue to frequent the society of
love of gossip; amusement, and all kinds of Harrington, Hazlerigge, and other staunch
miscellaneous information-a devoted attach- republicans, but never once expresses any
ment, and almost ludicrous admiration of his wish of his own, either for the restoration of
wife, with a wonderful devotion to the King's the Royalty, or the continuance of the Promistresses, and the fair sex in general, and tectorate, till after he is actually at sea with
rather a suspicious familiarity with various Lord Sandwich. with the ships that brought
pretty actresses and singers: and, above all, Charles back from Breda! After the Restoraa practical sagacity and cunning in the man- tion is consolidated, indeed, and he has got a
agement of affairs, with so much occasional good office in the Admiral;y, ie has recorded,
credulity, puerility, and folly, as would often amply enough, his anxiety for the permanency
tempt us to set him  down for a driveller. of the ancient dynasty-though he cannot
Though born with good blood in his veins. help, every now and then, reprobating the
and a kinsman, indeed, of his great patron, profligacy, wastefulness, and neglect of the
the first Earl of Sandwich; he had nothing to new government, and contrasting them disadboast of in his immediate progenitors, being vantageously with the economy, energy, and
born the son of a tailor in London, and enter- popularity, of most of the measures of the,ng on life in a state of the utmost poverty. It Usurper. While we give him credit, therewas probably from this ignoble vocation of his fore, for great candour and impartiality in the
father, that he derived that hereditary taste private judgments which he has here recordfor dress %xhich makes such a conspicuous ed, we can scarcely pay him the compliment
figure in his Diary. The critical and affec- of saying that he has any political principles
tionate notices of doublets, cloaks, beavers, whatever-or any, at least, for which he
periwigs, and sword-belts, actually outnum- would ever have dreamed of hazarding his
bering, we think, all the entries on any other own worldly prosperity.




186                    HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
Another indication of the same low  and  beauties there, my wife was thought the greatest. —
ignioble turn of mind is to be found, we think, 13th. Up early, the first day that I put on my black
il his penurious anxiety about his money- camlett coat with silver buttons. To Mr. Spong,
i sathisfactionxwith which hewatches  whom I found in his night-gown, &c.-14th. To
the intense satisfaction with which he watches the Privy Seale, and thence to my Lord's, where
its increase, and the sordid and vulgar cares Mr. Pimn'the tailor and I agreed upon making me a
to which he condescends, to check its ex- velvet coat.-25th. This night W. Hewer brought
penditure.  Even after he is in possession of me home from Mr. Pim's my velvet coat and cap,
a great income, he goes and sits by the tailor the first that ever I had. This the first day that
till he sees him  sew all the buttons on his ever I saw my wife wear black patches since we
doublet-and spends four or five hours, of a were married.-My wife seenmed very pretty to-day,
doublet — and spends four or five hours) of a it being the first time I had given her leave to weare
very busy day, in watching the coach-maker a black patch.-22d. This morning, hearing that the
laying on the coats of varnish on the body of  Queene grows worse again, I sent to stop the makhis coach! When he gives a dinner, he knows ing of my velvet cloak, till I see whether she lives
exactly what every dish has cost him-and  or dies.-30th. To my great sorrow find myself
tells a long story of his paddling half the 431. worse than I was the last month, which was
night withngto his fingers in  ng  the d     then 7601., and now it is but 7171.) But it hath
night with his fingers in the dirt, digging up  chiefly arisen from my layings out'in clothes for
some money he had buried in a garden, and  myself and wife; viz. for her about 121. and for
conveying it with his own hands, with many  myself 551., or thereabouts; having made myself a
fears and contrivances, safely back to his velvet cloak, two new cloth skirts, black, plain
house.  With all this, however, he is charit-        a new shag gown, trimmed with gold but
tons and twist, with a new hat, and silk tops for my
able to the poor, kind to his servants and de- legs, and many other things, being resolved hencependents, and very indulgent to all the mem- forward to go like myself.And also two perriwiggs,
bers of his family-though we find him chron- one whereof costs me 31. and the other 40s. I have
icling his own munificence in helping to fit worn neither yet, but will begin next week, God
out his wife's brother, when he goes abroad  willing.-29th. Lord's day. This morning I put
to push his fortune, by presenting him with  on my best black cloth suit, trimmed with scarlett,, ten shillings-and  me  ribbon, very neat, with my cloak lined with velvett,
ten shilling~s-andt a coat that I had bya new beaver, which altogether is very noble,
-a close-bodied, light-coloured, cloth coat-  with my black silk knit canons I bought a month
with a gold edging on each seam-that was ago.-30th. Up, and put on a new summer black
the lace of my wife's best petticoat, when I bombazin suit; and being come now to an agreemarried her!"                                  ment with my barber to keep my perriwig in good
As vwe conceive, a good deal not only of order at 20s. a year, I am like to go very spruce,.s ue c e.'d.e.n y    more than I used to do.-31st. This day I got a
the  interest, but of the authority and just little rent i!r my new fine camlett cloak with the
construction of the information contained in  latch of Sir G. Carteret's door; but it is darned up
the work, depends on the reader having a at my tailor's, that it will be no great blemish to it;
correct knowledge of the individual by whom  but it troubled me."
it is furnished, we think we cannot do better   This, we suppose, is enough-though there
than begin our extracts with a few citations are more than five hundred such notices at the
illustrative of the author's own character, service of any curious reader. It maybe suphabits, and condition, as we have already at- posed what a treat a Coronation would be to
tempted to sketch them. The very first entry  such a fancier of fine clothes; and accordingly,
exhibits some of his peculiarities.  He was we have a most rapturous description of it, in
then only twenty-seven years of age-and  all its glory. The King and the Duke of York
had been received, though not with much  in their morning dresses were, it seems, "but
honour, into the house of his kinsman Sir Ed- very plain men;" but. when attired in their
ward Montague, afterwards Earl of Sandwich. " most rich embroidered suits and cloaks, they
This is his condition in the beginning of 1659. looked most noble." Indeed, after some time,
"Jan. 1st (Lord's day).  This morning, (we he assures us, that "the show was so glorious
living lately in the garret,) I rose, put on my suit with gold and silver, that we are not able to
with great skirts, having not lately worn any other look at it any longer, our eyes being so much
clothes but them. Went to Mr Gunning's chapel overcome TI
at Exeter House, &c. Dined at home in the garret,   As a specimen of the credulity and twaddle
where my wife dressed the remains of a turkey, whch contitutes another of the staples of
and in the doing of it she burned her hand. I staid which constitutes another of the staples of
at home the whole afternoon, looking over my ac- this collection, the reader may take the folcounts; then went with my wife to my father's, &c. lowing.
— 2d. From the Hall I called at home, and so went
to Mr. Crewe's (my wife she was to go to her   " 19th. Waked with a very high wind, and said
father's), and Mr. Moore and I and another gentle- to my wife,'I pry   God I hear not of the death of
man went out and drank a cup of ale together in the aty great person,-THIs WIND IS so HIGH' fearing
new market, and there I eat some bread and cheese that the Queene might be dead. So up; and going
for my dinner.                                 by coach with Sir W. Batten and Sir J. Minnes to
St. James', they tell me that Sir W. Compton, who
His passion for dress breaks out in every  it is true had been a little sickly for a week or fortpage almost; but we shall insert only one or night, but was very well upon Friday night last, at
two of the early entries. to give the reader a the I'angier Committee with us, was dead,-died
notion of the style of it.                     yesterday: at which I was most exceedingly surprised,-he being, and so all the world saying that
"10th. This day I put on my new silk suit, the he was, one of the worthyest men and best officers of
lrst that ever I wore in my life.-12th. Home, and  State now in England!
called my wife, and took her to Clodins' to a great   "23d. To Westminster Abbey, and there did
wedding of Nan Hartlib to Mynheer Roder, which see all the tombs very finely; having one with us
was kept at Goring House with very great state, alone (there being no other company this day to see
tost and noble company.  But among all the the tombs, it being Shrove-Tuesday): and here we




MEMOIRS OF SAMUEL PEPYS.                                      18'
did see, by particular favour, the body of Queen  he says, "it is the most insipid, ridiculous
Katherine of Valois;-and I had the upper part of play I ever saw in my life."  Anti he is alher body in my hands,- thand I did kiss hera queene, and most equally dissatisfied with the Merry Wives
— reflecting upon it that I did kiss a queene, and                                 To make
that this was my birth day,-thirty-six years old! of Windsor, and Henry the IV.   To make
-that I did kiss a queene! But here this man, who amends, however, for these misjudgments, he
seems to understand well, tells me that the saying is often much moved by the concord of sweet
is not true that she was never buried,-for shevas sounds; and has, in the following passage,
buried.-Only when Henry the Seventh built his described the effects they produced on him,
chapel, she was taken up and laid in this wooden in a way that must be admitted to be original
coffin; but I did there see that in it the body was
buried in a leaden one, which remains under the The Virgin Martyr (of Massinger), he says,
body to this day, &c. &c.-29th. We sat under the was" mighty pleasant! Not that the play is
boxes, and saw the fine ladies; among others, my worth much, but it is finely acted by Beck
Lady Kerneguy, who is most devilishly painted. Marshall.  But that which did please me beAnd so home-it being mighty pleasure to go alone ynd any thing in the whole world, was the
with my poor wife in a coach of our own to a play! 
and makes us appear mighty great, I think, in the wind-musique when the angel comes down
world; at least, greater than ever I could, or my which is so sweet that it ravished me, and
friends for me, have once expected; or, I think, indeed, in a word, did wrap up my soul, so
than ever any of my family ever yet lived in my that it made me really sick!-just as I have
memory-but my cosen Pepys in Salisbury Court."  formerl been when in love with my wife!'
Or the  following  memorandums of his    Though "mighty merry" upon all occatravels.                                       sions, and, like gentle dulness, ever loving a
" A mighty cold and windy, but clear day; and joke, we are afraid he had not much relish for
had the pleasure of seeing the Medway running  wit. His perplexity at the success of Hudibras
winding up and down mightily,-and a very fine is exceedingly ludicrous.  This is his own
country: and I went a little out of the way to have account of his first attempt on himvisited Sir John Bankes, but he at London; but here
I had a sight of his seat and house, the outside, which    "Hither come Mr. Battersby; and we falling
is an old abbey just like Hinchingbroke, and as into discourse of a new book of drollery in use,
good at least, and mightily finely placed by the called Hudebras, I would needs go find it out, and
river; and he keeps the grounds about it, and  Inet with it at the Temple: cost ne 2s. 6d. But
walks and the house, very handsome: I was might- when I come to read it, it is so silly an abuse of
ily pleased with the sight of it. Thence to Mayd- the Presbyter Knight going to the warrs, that lam
stone, which I had a mighty mind to see. having ashamed of it; and by and by meeting at Mr.
never been there; and walked all up and down the T'ownsend's at dinner, I sold it to him for 18d!"
town,-and up to the top of the steeple-and had a    The second is not much more successful.
noble view, and then down again: and in the town
did see an old man beating of flax! and did step    "To Paul's Church Yard, and there looked
into the barn and give him  money, and saw that upon the second part of Hudibras-which I buy not,
piece of husbandry, which I never saw; and it is but borrow to read,-to see if it be as good as the
very pretty! In the street also I did buy and send first, which the world cried so mightily up; though
to our inne, the Bell, a dish of fresh fish. And so it hath not a good liking in me, though I had tried
having walked all round the town, and found it very  twice or three times reading, to bring myself to
pretty as most towns I ever saw, though not very  think it witty."
big, and people of good fashion in it, we to our inne    The following is a ludicrous instance of his
and had a good dinner; and a barber came to me parsimony and household meanness.
and there trimmed me, that I might be clean against parsimony and household meanness.
night to go to Mrs. Allen, &c.                   "29th. (King's birth-day.) Rose early, and put
"So all over the plain by the sight of the steeple six spoons and a porringer of silver in my pocket, to
(the plain high and low) to Salisbury by night; but give away to-day. Back to dinner at Sir William
before I came to the town, I saw a great fortifica- Batten's; and then, after a walk in the fine gartion, and there light, and to it and in it! and find it dens, we went to Mrs. Browne's, where Sir W.
prodigious! so as to fright me to be in it all alone, Pen and I were godfathers, and Mrs. Jordan and
at that time of night-it being dark. I understand  Shipman godmothers to her boy. And there, be
since it to be that that is called Old Sarum. Come fore and after the christening, we were with th',
to the George Inne, where lay in a silk bed; and woman above in her chamber; but whether we car
very good diet, &c. &c.-22d. So the three women ried ourselves well or ill, I know not; but I was
behind W. Hewer, Murford, and our guide, and I directed by young Mrs. Batten. One passage, of
single to Stonehenge, over the plain, and some great a lady that eate wafers with her dog, did a little dish7lls, even to fright us! Come thither, and find please me. I did give the midwife 10s., and the nurse
them  as prodigious as any tales I ever heard of 5s., and the maid of the house 2s. But, for as
them, and worth going this journey to see. God  much as I expected to give the name to the childe,
knows what their use was: they are hard to tell, but did not (it being called John), Iforebore then to
but yet may be told.-12th. Friday. Up, finding give my plate."
our beds good, but lousy; which made us merry!
-9th. Up, and got ready, and eat our breakfast;    On another occasion, when he had, accordand then took coach: and the poor, as they did ing to the fashion of the time, sent a piece of
yesterday, did stand at the coach to have something plate, on a holiday, to his official superior, he
gtven them, as they do to all great persons; and I records with great joy,
did give them something! and the town music did
also come and play; but, Lord! what sad music   "After dinner Will. comes to tell me that he hag
they made! So through the town, and observed at presented my piece of plate to Mr. Coventry, who
our College of Magdalene the posts new painted! takes it very kindly, and sends me a very kind letand understand that the Vice-Chancellor is there ter, and the plate back again,-of which my heart u
this year."                                    very glad."
Though a great playgoer, we cannot say    Throughout the whole work, indeed, he is
much for his taste in plays, or indeed in litera- mainly occupied with reckoning up and se.
lure ingeneral. Of the Midsummer's Dream, curing his gains-turning  them  into,aod




1 RR                    HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
gold-and bagging and hiding them  in holes is, Nell Gwyn) —was dressing herself, and was in
and corners.  His prosperity, indeed, is mar- unready, and is very pretty, prettier than I thougl. t.
vellous; and shows us how good a thing it And into the scene-room, and there sat down, and
she gave us fruit: and here I read the questions to
was to be in office, even in the year 1660. Knipp, while she answered me, through all her part
When he goes with Lord Sandwich to bring  of'Flora's Figary's,' which was acted to-day.
Dver the King, he is overjoyed with his Ma- But, Lord! to see how they were both painted,
jesty's bounty of a month's pay to all the  woWld make a man mad, and did make me loath
ships' officers-and exultingly counts up his them! and what base company of men comes
share, and "finding himself to be worth very  among them, and how lewdly they talk! And
7share and  finding himself to be worth very how poor the men are in clothes, and yet what a
nearly 1001., blesses Almighty God for it-not shew they make on the stage by candle-light is very
having been worth 251. clear when he left his observable. But to see how Nell cursed,-fbor
home."  And yet, having got the office of having so few people in the pit, was strange."
Clerk of the Acts in the Admiralty, and a few    Now, whether it was strange or not, it was
others, he thrives with such prodigious ra- certainly very wrong in Nell to curse so unpidity, that before the end of 1666, this is his mercifully, even at a thin house.  But we
own account of his condition.                  must say, that it was neither so wrong nor so
"To my accounts, wherein at last I find them  strange, as for this grave man of office, to
clear and right; but to my great discontent do find curse daliberately to himself in this his prithat my gettings this year have been 5731. less than vate Diary.  And yet but a few pages after
my last: it being this year in all but 29861.; where- we find this emphatic entr-"in fear
as, the last, I got 35601.! And then again myar o
at a, g 3t     a nothing but this damned business of the prizes.
spendings this year have exceeded my spendings
the last, by 6441.: my whole spendings last year I fear my lord will receive a cursed deal of
being but 5091.; whereas this year it appears I have trouble by it."
spent 11541.,-which is a sum not fit to be said that   The following affords a still stronger picture
ever I should spend in one year, before I am mas- of the profligacy of the times.
ter of a better estate than I am. Yet, blessed be
God! and I pray God make me thankful for it, I   "To Fox Hall, and there fell into the company
do find myself worth in money, all good, above of Harry Killigrew, a rogue newly come back out
62001.; which is above 18001. more than I was the of France, but still in disgrace at our Court, and
last year."                                    young Newport and others; as very rogues as any
in the town, who were ready to take hold of every
>We have hinted. however, atwoman that come by them. And so to supper in
ness than the care of money, and sordid house- an arbour: but, Lord! their mad talk did make my
hold economy. When his friends and patrons heart ake! And here I first understood by their talk
seem falling into disgrace, this is the way he  the nleaning of the company that lately were called
takes to countenance them.                     Ballers; Harris telling how it was by a meeting of
some young blades, where he was among them,
"I tbund my Lord Sandwich there, poor man! and my Lady Bennet and her ladies; and there
I see with a melancholy face, and suffers his beard dancing naked! and all the roguish things in the
to grow on his upper lip more than usual., I took  world. But, Lord! what loose company was this
him a little aside to know when I should wait on that I was in to-night! though full of wit; and
him, and where: he told me, that it would be best worth a man's being in for once,-to know the nato meet at his lodgings, without being seen to walk ture of it, and their manner of talk and lives."
together. Which I liked very well; and, Lord!
to see in what difficulty I stand, that I dare not walk    These however, we have no doubt were
with Sir W. Coventry, for fear my Lord or Sir G. all very blameless and accidental associations
Carteret should see me; nor with either of them, on his part.  But there is one little liaison of
for fear Sir W. Coventry should! &c.          which we discover some indications in the
"To Sir W. Coventry's-after much discourse
with him, I walked out with him  into James' journal, as to which we do not feel so well
]'ark; where, being afraid to be seen with him (he assured, unreserved as his confessions un4aving not yet leave to kiss the King's hand, but doubtedly are, that he has intrusted the whole
notice taken, as I hear, of all that go to him), I did truth even to his short-hand cipher.  We altake the pretence of my attending the Tangier Com- lude to a certain Mrs. Mercer, his wife's maid
rmittee to take my leave of him."              and occasional companion, of whom he makes
It is but a small matter, after this, to find, frequent and very particular mention.  The
that when the office is besieged by poor sail- following entry, it will be allowed, is a little
ors' wives, clamouring for their arrears of pay, suspicious, as well as exceedingly characterhe and Mrs. Pepys are dreadfully " afraid to istic.
send a venison pasty, that we are to have for
supper to-night, to the cook to be baked-for   "Thence home —and to sing with my wife andt
fear of their offering violence to it." Mercer in the garden; and coming in I find my
wife plainly dissatisfied with me, that I can spend
Notwithstanding his great admiration of hisso much time with Mercer, teaching her to sing,
wife and her beauty, and his unremitting at- and could never take the pains with her.  Which I
tention to business and money, he has a great acknowledge; but it is because the girl do take
deal of innocent (?) dalliance with various music mighty readily, and she do not,-and music
pretty actresses at the playhouses, and passes is the thing of the world that I love most, and al
the pleasure almost that Ican now take. So to bed,
a large part of his time in very profligate so- in some little discontent,-but no words from me!"
ciety.  Here is a touch of his ordinary life,
which meets us by accident as we turn over   We trace the effect of this jealousy very
the leaves.                                    curiously, in a little incident chronicled with
" To the King's house; and there going in met great simplicity a few days after, where he
with Knipp, and she took us up into the tireing- mentions that being out at supper, the party
rooms; and to the women's shift,-where Nell (that returned " in two coaches,-Mr. Batelier and




MEMOIRS OF SAMUEL PEPYS..nlis sister Mary, and my wife and I1 in one,- get to take pleasure during the time that they are
and M1ercer alone in the other."               getting their estate, but reserve that till they have
We are sorry to observe, however, that he  got one, and then it is too late for them to enjoy it.'>
seems very soon to have tired of this caution    One of the most characteristic, and at the
and forbearance; as the following, rather out- same time most creditable pieces of naivete
rageous merry-making, ivhich takes place on  that we meet with in the book, is in the ac.
the fourth day after, may testify.             count he gives of the infinite success of a
" After dinner with my wife and ]iercer to the speech which he delivered at the bar of the
Beare-garden; where I have not been, I think, of House of Commons, in 1667, in explanation
many years, and saw some good sport of the bull's and defence of certain alleged mismanage.
tossing of the dogs: one into the very boxes. But ents in the navy, then under discussion in
it is a very rude and nasty pleasure. We had a                   The honourable House progreat many hectors in the same box with us, (and tlat assembly.
one, very fine, went into the pit, and played his dog bably knew but little about the business; and
for a wager, which was a strange sport for a gen- nobody, we can well believe, knew so much
tieman,) where they drank wine, and drank lier- about it as our author,-and this, we have no
cer's health first; which I pledged with my hat off! doubt, was the great merit of his discourse,
We supped at home, and very merry. And then and the secret of his success:-For though
about nine o'clock to Mrs. Mercer's gate, whered to give him  every credior
the fire and boys expected us, and her son had pro- we are disposed to give him  every credit for
vided abundance of serpents and rockets: and there industry, clearness, and practical judgment,
mighty merry, (my Lady Pen and Pegg going we think it is no less plain from  his manner
thither with us, and Nan Wright,) till about twelve of writing, than from the fact of his subseat night, flinging our fireworks, and burning one quent obscurity in parliament, that he could
another and the people over the way. And at last never have hadl any pretensions to the charour businesses being most spent, we into Mrs. Mercer's, and there mighty merry, smutting one another
with candle-grease and soot, till most of us were ever, this speech seems to have made a great
like devils! And that being done, then we broke impression at the time; and certainly gave
up, and to my house; and there I made them drink, singular satisfaction to its worthy maker.  It
and up stairs we went, and then fell into dancing  would be unjust to withhold from our readers
(W. Batelier dancing well,) and dressing him and I his own account of this bright passage in his
and one Mr. Bannister (who with my wife come existence.  In the morning  when he came
over also with us) like women; and liercer put on
a suit of Tom's, like a boy, and mighty mirth we down to Westminster, he had some natural
had-and Miercer danced a igg! and Nan Wright, qualms.
and my wife, and Pegg Fen put on perriwigls.
put on perriwig.   "And to comfort myself did go to the Dog and
Thus, we spent till three or four in the morning-  drink half a pint of mulled sack —and in the hall
mighty merry! " —Vol. i. p.438, 439.           did drink a dram of brandy at Mrs. Hewlett's! and
After all this, we confess, we are not very  with the warmth of this did find niyself in better
much surprised, though no doubt a little  order as to courage, truly."
shocked, to find the matter come to the fol-   He spoke three hours and a half " as comlowing natural and domestic, though not very  fortably as if I had been at my own table,"
dignified catastrophe.                         and ended soon after three in the afternoon;
"This day, ilercer being not at home, but. but it was not thought fit to put the vote that
against her mistress' order, gone to her mother's, day, "many members having gone out to
and my wife, going thither to speak with W. Hewer, dinner, and come in again half drunk." Next
beat her there!!-and was angry; and her mother mornino hiss                m.
saying that she was not a prentice girl, to ask leave
every time she goes abroad, my wife with good    "6th. Up betimes, and with Sir D. Gauden to
reason was angry, and when she come home bid Sir W. Coventry's chamber; where the first word
her be gone again. And so she went away! which he said to nie was,' Good-morrow, Mr. Pepys,
troubled me,-but yet less than it would, because that must be Speaker of the Parliament House:'
of the condition we are in, in fear of coming in a and did protest I had got honour for ever in Parlialittle time to be less able to keep one in her quality."  ment. He said that his brother, that sat by him.
admires me; and another gentleman said that I
Matters, however, we are happy to say, could not get less than 10001. a year, if I would put
seem to have been wonderfully soon made up  on a gown and plead at the Chancery-bar.  But,
again-for we find her attending Mrs. P., as what pleases me most, he tells me that the Soliciusual, in about six weeks after; and there are tor-generall did protest that he thought I spoke the
various subsequent, though very brief and  best of any man in England. My Lord Barkeley
discreet notices of her, to the  end of the Diary. did cry me up for what they had heard of it; and
discreet notices of her, to the end of the Diary. others, Parliament-men there about the King, did
It is scarcely fair, we confess, thus to drag say that they never heard such a speech in their lives,
to liglLt the frailties of this worthy defunct delivered in that manner. From thence I went to
secretary: But we really cannot well help it Westminster Hall; where I met with Mr. G. Mon-he has laid the temptation so directly in tagu, who came to me and kissed me, and told me
that he had often heretofore kissed my hands, but
our way.  If a man will leave such things on now he would kiss my lips: protesting that I was
record, people will read and laugh at them, another Cicero! and said all the world said the same
although he should long before be laid snug of me. Mr. Godolphin; Mr. Sands, who swore he
in his grave.  After what we have just ex- would go twenty miles at any time to hear the like
tracted, the reader will not be surprised at again, and that he never saw so many sit four hours
the following ingenious confession.            together to hear any man in his life as there did to
hear me. Mr. Chichly, Sir John Duncomb, and
" The truth is, I do indulge myself a little the every body do say that the kingdom will ring of my
more in pleasure, knowing that this is the proper abilities, and that I have done myself right for my
age of my life to do it; and out of my observation, whole life; and so Captain Coke and others of my
that most men that do thrive in the world do for- friends say that no man had ever such an oppor



90                    HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
tunity of making his abilities known.  And that I went to my Lord Crewe's, there to invite Sir
may cite all at once, Mr. Lieutenant of the Tower Thomas, &c. Thence home  and there find one
did tell me that Mr. Vaughan did protest to him, laying of my napkins against to-morrow in figures
and that in his hearing said so to the Duke of Al- of all sorts; which is mighty pretty; and it seems
bermarle, and afterwards to Sir W. Coventry, that it is his trade, and he gets much money by it. 14th.
he had sat twenty-six years in Parliament and never Up very betimes, and with Jane to Levett's, there
heard such a speech there before! for which the Lord to conclude upon our dinner; and thence to the
God make me thankful! and that I may make use pewterer's to buy a pewter sesterne, which I have
of it, not to pride and vainglory, but that, now I ever hitherto been without. Anon comes my comrn
have this esteem, I may do nothing that may pany, viz. my Lord Hinchingbroke and his lady,
lessen it!"                                  Sir Philip Carteret and his lady, Godolphin and my
There is a great deal more of this-but we cosen Roger, and Creed: and mighty merry; and
have given rather too much space already to by and by to dinner, which was very good and
have given rather too much space already to plentiful (and I should have said, and Mr. George
Mr. Pepys' individual concerns: and must Montagu, who came at a very little warning, which
turn now to something of more public interest. was exceeding kind of him). And there, among
Before taking leave of private life, however? other things, my lord had Sir Samuel Morland's
we may notice one or two things, that wr~e late invention for casting up of sums of ~ s. d.;
to the  manners and  which is very pretty, but not very useful. Most
collect incidentally, as to the manners and of our discourse was of my Lord Sandwich and his
habits of the times. The playhouses, of which  family, as being all of us of the family. And with
there seem to have been at least three, opened  extraordinary pleasure all the afternoon, thus toapparently soon after noon-though the en- gether, eating and looking over my closet."
tertainments often lasted till late in the night   The next seems to have been still more
-but we cannot make out whether they were solemn and successful.
ever exhibited by daylight.  The pit, in some
of them at least, must have been uncovered;'23d.  To the office till noon, when word
for our author speaks repeatedly of being an- brnught me that my  Lord Sandwich was come; so
I presently  rose, and there I found my Lords Sandnoyed in that place by rain and hail.  For wich, Peterborough, and Sir Charles Harbord; and
several years after the: Restoration, women's presently. after them comes my Lord Hinchingparts were done by boys,-though there seem  broke, Mr. Sidney, and Sir William  Godolphin.
always to have been female singers.  The  And after greeting them and some time spent in
hour of dinner was almost always twelve; and  talk, dinner was brought up, one dish after another,
men seem generally to have sat at table with  but a dish at a time; but all so good! But, above
men seem generally to have sat at table with  all things, the variety of wines and excellent of their
their hats on.  The wines mostly in use ap- kind I had for them, and all in so good order, that
pear to have been the Spanish white wines they were nlightily pleased, and myself full of con-both sweet and dry-some clarets-but no  tent at it: and indeed it was, of a dinner of about
port.  It seems still to have been a custom to six or eight dishes, as noble as any man need to
go down to drink in the cellar.  The Houses have, I think; at least, all was done in the noblest
of Parliament met like the courts of law, at manner that ever I had any, and I have rarely see
of Parliament met, like the courts of law, at in my life better any where else, even at the Court.
nine, and generally adjourned at noon.  The  After dinner my lords to cards, and the rest of us
style of dress seems to have been very vari- sitting about them and talking, and looking on my
able, and very costly-periwigs appear not to books and pictures, and my wife's drawings, which
have been introduced, even at court, till 1663 they commended mightily: and mighty merryall
-and  the still greater abomination of hair day long, with exceeding great content, and so till
seven at night; and so took their leaves, it being
powder not to have been yet dreamed of. dark and foul weather. Thus was this entertainMuch of the outskirts of the town, and the  ment (ver-the best of its kind and the fullest of
greater part of Westminster, were not paved  honour and content to me that ever I had in my
-and the police seems to have been very  life; and I shall not easily have so good again."
deficient, as the author frequently speaks of    On turning to the political or historical
the danger of returning from Whitehall and parts of this record, we are rather disapthat neighbourhood to the city early in the pointed in finding so little that is curious or
evening -no lamps in the streets.  Some interesting in that earliest portion of it which
curious notices of prices might be collected carries us through the whole work of the
out of these volumes-but we have noted but Restoration.  Though there are almost daily
a few.  Coaches seem to have been common, entries from  the 1st of January 1659, and
and very cheap-our author gets a very hand- though the author was constantly in commusome one for 321. On the other hand, he pays nication with persons in public situationsAl. 10s. for a beaver, and as much for a wig. was personally introduced to the King at the
Pictures too seem to have brought large prices, Hague, and came home in the same ship
considering the value of money and the small with him, it is wonderful how few particulars
proportion of the people who could then have of any moment he has been enabled to put
any knowledge of the art.  He pays 251. for down; and how little the tone of his journal
a portrait of his wife, and 301. for a miniature, exhibits of that interest and anxiety which
besides eight guineas for the setting-and  we are apt to imagine must have been unimentions a flower-piece for which the painter versal during the dependence of so momentrefused 701. We may take leave of him and ous a revolution. Even this barrenness, howhis housekeeping, by inserting his account of ever, is not without instruction-and illustrates
two grand dinners he seems to have given- by a new example, how insensible the conboth which he appears to have regarded as temporaries of great transactions often are of
matters of very weighty concernment. As to their importance, and how much more posthe first he says —                          terity sees of their character than those who' My head being full of to-morrow's dinner, were parties to them. We have already ob



MEMOIRS OF SAMUEL PEPYS.                                   191
served that the author's own political predi- the king was, and all his attendants, when he came
sec ions are scarcely distinguishable till he  to him first from my lord; their clothes not being
is embarked in the fleet to bring home the worth forty shillings-the best of them. And how
King- and the  greater part of those with  overjoyed the King was when Sir J. Greenville
King-and the greater part of those with  brought him some money; so joyful, that he called
whom he converses seem to have been nearly  the Princess Royal and Duke of York to look
as undecided.  Monk is spoken of through- upon it, as it lay in the portmanteau before it was
out with considerable contempt and aversion; taken out."
and among many instances of his duplicity,    On the voyage home the names of the
it is recorded that upon the 21st day of Feb- ships are changed-and to be sure the Richruary 1660; he came to Whitehall, "and there ard, the Naseby, and the Dunbar, were not
made a speech to them, recommending to very fit to bear the royal flag-nor even the
them  a Commonwealth, and against Charles Speaker or the Lambert.  There is a long aoStuart."  The feeling of the city is repre- count of the landing, and a still longer, of
sented, no doubt, as extremely hostile to the Lord Sandwich's investment with the Order
Parliament (here uniformly called the Rump); of the Garter —but we do not find any thing
but their aspirations are not said to be directed  of moment recorded, till we come to the
to royalty, but merely to a free Parliament condemnation and execution of the regicides
and the dissolution of the existing junto.  So -a pitiful and disgusting departure from the
late as the month of March our author ob- broad principle of amnesty, upon the basis
serves, "great is the talk of a single person. of which alone any peaceful restoration could
Charles, George, or Richard again.  For the be contemplated, after so long and so unelast of which my Lord St. John is said to quivocally national a suspension of royalty.
speak very high.  Great also is the dispute It is disgusting to find, that Monk sate on the
in the House, in whose name the writs shall bench, while his companions in arms, Harriissue for the new Parliament."  It is a com- son Hacker, and Axtell, were arraigned for
fort however to find, in a season of such uni- the treasons in which he and they had been
versal dereliction  of principle, that signal associated.  Our author records the whole
perfidy, even to the cause of the republic, transactions with the most perfect indifferis visited with general scorn.  A person of ence, and with scarcely a remark-for exthe name of Morland, who had been em- ample,
ployed under the Protector in the Secretary      13th. I went out to Charing Cross  to see
of State's office  had been in the habit of " 13th. I went out to Chafing Cross, to see
of State's  office, had been in the habit of Major-General Harrison hanged, drawn, and quarbetraying his trust, and communicating pri- tered; which was done there; he looking as cheervately with the exiled monarch —and, upon ful! as any man could do in that condition.-18th.
now resorting to him, had been graced with  This morning, it being expected that Colonel
the  honour of knighthood.  Even our cold- Hacker and Axtell should die, I went to Newgate,
hearted chronicler speaks thus of this deserter  but found they were reprieved till to-morrow. —
19th. This morning my dining-room was finished
"Mr. Morland, now Sir Samuel, was here on with greene serge hanging and gilt leather. which
board; but I do not find that my lord or any body is very handsome.' his morning Hacker and
did give him any respect-he being looked upon Axtell were hanged and quartered, as the rest
by him and all men as a knave. Among others are."
Jie betrayed Sir Rich. Willis that married Dr. F.   He is to be sure a little troubled as he
Jones' daughter, who had paid him 10001. at one
time by the Protector's and Secretary Thurloe's expresses it, at the disinterring and gibbetorder, for intelligence that he sent concerning the ting of Cromwell's dead and festering body —
King."                                       thinking it unfit that "la man of so great
And there is afterwards a similar expres- courage as he was, should have that dission of honest indignation against " that per- honour-though otherwise he might deserve
fidious rogue Sir G. Downing," who, though it-enough!"   He does not fail, however, to
he had served in the Parliamentary army attend the rest of the executions, and to desunder Okey, yet now volunteered to go after cribe them  as spectacles of ordinary occurhim and Corbet, with the King's warrant, to rence —thus,
Holland, and succeeded  in bringing them    " 19th. This morning, before we sat, I went to
back as prisoners, to their death-and had  Aldgate; and at the corner shop, a draper's, I
the impudence, when there, to make a speech stood, and did see Barkestead, Okey, an4 Corbet,
to "' the Lords States of Holland, telling them  drawne towards the gallows at Tiburne; and there
to their faces that he observed that he was they were hanged and quartered.  They all looked
not received with the respect and observance very cheerful! but I hear they all die defending
~not reeve  it    rsecosrvne      what they did to the King to be just; which is
now, that he was when he came from  the very strange!"
traitor and rebell Cromwell! by whom, I am    " 14th. About eleven o'clock, having a room got
sure, he hath got all he hath in the world,-  ready for us, we all went out to the Tower Hill;
and they know it too.';                      and there, over against the scaffold, made on purWhen  our author is presented to the King, pose this day, saw Sir Henry Vane brought. A
7 very great press of people.  He made a long
be very simply puts down, that "he  seems speech, many times interrupted by the sheriffe and
to be a very sober man!    This, however, others there; and they would have taken his paper
probably referred only to his dress and equip- out of his hand, but he would not let it go. But
ment; which, from  the following extract, they caused all the books of those that writ after
seems to have been homely enough, even for him to be given to the sheriffe; and the trumpets
were brought under the scaffold that he might
a republic,                                   not be heard. Then he prayed, and so fitted him
"This afternoon Mr. Edward Pickering told me self, and received the blow; but the scaffold was'i what a sad, poor condition for clothes and money so crowded that we could not see it done.  He




,92                     HISIOhY AND HISTORIICAL MEMOIRS.
had a blister, or issue, upon his neck, which he fear him; while here a prince, come in with all the
desired them not to hurt!  He changed not his love and prayers and good liking of his people, who
colour or speech to the last, but died justifying  have given greater signs of loyalty and willingness
himself and the cause he had stood for; and to serve him with their estates than ever was done
spoke very confidently of his being presently at by any people, hath lost all so soon, that it is a
the right hand of Christ; and in all things ap- miracle that a man could devise to lose so much in
peared the most resolved man that ever died in so little time."
that manner."                                     The following particulars of the condition
In spite of those rigorous measures, the of the Protector's family are curious, and
author very soon gets disgusted with  cthe probably authentic.  The conversation is in
lewdness, beggary, and wastefulness," of the  the end of 1664.
new  government-and after sagaciously re-'In
marking, that " I doubt our new Lords of the  "In my way to Brampton in this day's journey
marking, that   I doubt our new Lords of the..  I met with Mr. White, Cromwell's chaplain that
Council do not mind things as the late powers was, and had a great deal of discourse with him.
did-but their pleasure or profit more," he  Among others, he tells me that Richard is, and hath
proceeds to make the following striking re- long been, in France, and is now going into Italy.
marks on the ruinous policy, adopted on this, He owns publickly, that he do correspond, and reand many other restorations, of excluding the  turn him all his money.  That Richard hath been
in sonme straits in the beginning;  but relieved by
only men really acquainted with business, on  his friends. That he goes by another name, but
the score of their former opposition to the  do not disguise himself, nor deny himself to any
party in power.                                man that challenges him. He tells me, for certain,
" From that we discoursed of the evil of put- that offers had been made to the old man, of marriage
ting out men of experience in business, and of the between the king and his daughter, to have obliged
condition of the King's party at present, who, as him-but he would not. He thinks (with me) that
the Papists, though otherwise fine persons, yet it never was in his power to bring in the King with
the Papists, though otherwise fine persons, yet the consent of any of his officers about him; and
being by law kept for these four-score years out of the consent of any of his officers about him; and
employment, they are now wholly uncapable of' that he scorned to bring  him in, as lonk did, to
business; and so the Cavaliers, for twenty years, secure himself and deliver every body else.  Vhen
who for the most part have either given themselves of one Monsieur Sorbiere, that gives an account of
over to look after country and family business, and his observationsieur Sorbiere, that gives an account of
those the best of them, and the rest to debau- things he says, that t is eported that Cromwell
chery, &c.; and that Ivas it that hath made him  things he says, that it is teported that Cromwell
high against the late bill broughthat hainto th ade Houseim did, in his lifetime, transpose many of the bodies
high against the late bill brought into the House
for making al men incapable of employment that of the kings of England from one grave to another;
for making All men incapable of employment that and that by that means it is not known certainly
ihad served against the King.1 People, says he, in whether the head that is now set upon  a post be that
the sea-service, it is impossible to do any thing whof Cromwell, or of one of the kings; Mr. White that
without them, there being not more than three of romwell, orofoneofthekings; Mr. Whitetells
men of the whole King's side that are fit to com-   that he believes he never had so poor a low
mand almost; and there were Captn. Allen, Snitht, thought in him, to trouble himself about it. He says
and    an     the hand of' God is much to be seen; and that all his
aid Beech; and it may be, Holmes, and Utber; and children are in good condition enough as to estate,
Batts might do something."                     and that their relations that betrayed their family are
In his account of another conversation with  all now either hanged or very miserable."
the same shrewd observer) he gives the folthe same shrewd observer, he gives the fol- The most frequent and prolific topic in the
lowing striking picture of the different temper whole book, next perhaps to that of dress. is
and morals,   cnharactedr   h of the old Republican  the profligacy of the court-or what may fairly
soldiers, as contrasted with those of the Roy- be denominated court scandal.  It would be
alists —of the former he reports —             endless, and not very edifying, to attempt any' Let the King think what he will, it is them that thing like an abstract of the shameful immormust help him in the day of' warr. For generally  alities which this loyal author has recorded
they are the most substantiall sort of people, and
the soberest; and did desire me to observe it to my of the two royal brothers, and the greater part
Lord Sandwich, among other things, that of all the of their favourites-at the same time, that
old army now you cannot see a man begging about they occupy so great a part of the work, that
the streets; but what? you shall have this captain we cannot well give an account of it without
turned a shoemaker; this lieutenant a baker; this a some notice of them.  The reader will probrewer; that a haberdasher; this common soldier
a porter; and every man in his apron and frock, &c. bably be satisfied with the following specias if they never had done any thing else: Whereas mens, taken almost at random.
the other go with their belts and swords, swearing    " In the Privy Garden saw the finest smocks and
and cursing, and stealing; running into people's linen petticoats of my Lady Castlemaine's, laced
houses, by force oftentimes, to carry away some- with rich lace at the bottom, that ever I saw; and
thing; and this is the difference between the temper did me good to look at them. Sarah told me how the
of one and the other; and concludes (and I think King dined at my Lady Castlemaine's, and supped,
with some reason), that the spirits of the old Par- every day and night the last week; and that the
liament soldiers are so quiet and contented with night that the bonfires were made for joy of the
God's providence, that the King is safbr from any  Queene's arrivall, the King was there. But there
evil meant him by them, one thousand times more was no fire at her door, though at all the rest of the
than from his own discontented Cavaliers.  And doors almost in the street; which was much ob
then to the publick management of business; it is served: and that the King and she did send for a
done, as he observes, so loosely and so carelessly, pair of scales, and weighed one another; and she,
that the kingdom can never be happy with it, every  being with child, was said to be heaviest."
man looking after himself, and his own lust and    "Mr. Pickering tells me the story is very true
luxury."                                       of a child being dropped at the ball at Court; ane
The following is also very remarkable.       that the King had it in his closet a week after, and
did dissect it; and making great sport of it, said that
"It is strange how every body now-a-days do in his opinion it must have been a month and three
reflect upon Oliver, and commend him; what brave houres old; and that, whatever others think, he
things he did, and made all the neighbour princes hath the greatest loss (it being a boy, as he says),




MEMOIRS OF SAMUEL PEPYS.                                     19.
that hath lost a subject by the business."-" He journing the Parliament in 1667, gives such a
told me also how loose the Court is, nobody look- picture of the court policy, as makes one
ing after business, but every man his lust and wonder how the Revolution could have been
gain; and how the King is now become so besotted
upon Mrs. Stewart, that he gets into corners, and so long deferred.                       0
wilt be with her half an hour together kissing her   "Thus they are dismissed again, to their general
to the observation of all the world; and she now  great distaste, I believe the greatest that ever Parstays by herself and expects it as my Lady Castle- liament was, to see themselves so fooled, and the
maine did use to do; to whom the King, he says, nation in certain condition of ruin, while the King,
s still kind," &c.                             they see, is only governed by his lust, and women,
" Coming to St. James, I hear that the Queene and rogues about him. They do all give up the
did sleep five hours pretty well to-night. The King kingdom for lost, that I speak to; and do hear what
they all say, is most fondly disconsolate for her, the King says, how he and the Duke of York do
and weeps by her, which makes her weep; which DO WHAT THEY CAN TO GET UP AN ARMY, THAT THEY
one this day told me he reckons a good sign, for MAY NEED NO MORE PARLIAMENTS: and how my
that it carries away some rheum from the head! Lady Castlemaine hath, before the late breach beShe tells us that the Queene's sickness is the spotted  tween her and the King, said to the King, that he
fever; that she was as full of the spots as a leopard: must rule by an army, or all would be lost!  I am
which is very strange that it should be no more told that many petitions were provided for the Parknown; but perhaps it is not so. And that the liament, complaining of the wrongs they have reKing do seem to take it much to heart, for that he ceived from the court and courtiers, in city and
hath wept before her; but for all that, he hath not country, if the Parliament had but sat: and I do
missed one night, since she was sick, of supping  perceive they all do resolve to have a good account
with my Lady Castlemaine! which I believe is of the money spent, before ever they give a farthing
true, for she says that her husband hath dressed the  more; and the whole kingdom is every where sensuppers every night; and I confess I saw him my- sible of their being abused," &c.
self coming through the street dressing up a great   The following confirmation of these specusupper to-night, which Sarah says is also for the 
King and her; which is a very strange thing."  lations is still more characteristic, both of the
" Pierce do tell me, among other news, the late parties and their chronicler.
frolick and debauchery of Sir Charles Sedley and    " Ad so she (Lady Castlema
Buckhurst running up and down all the night, al- when  one would think his mind should be ull of
most naked, through the streets; and at last fight- some other cares, having but this morning broken
ing, and being beat by the watch and clapped up up such a Parliament with so much discontent and
all night; and how the King takes their parts; and so many wants upon him, and but yesterday heard
my Lord Chief Justice Keeling hath laid the con- such a sermon against adultery!  But it seems she
stable by the heels to answer it next sessions; hath told the King, that whoever did get it, he
which is a horrid shame. Also how the King and shoeild own it. And the bottom of the quarrel is
these gentlemen did make the fiddlers of Thetford, this:-She is fallen in love with young Jermin, who
this last prolress, to sing them  all the obscene hath of late been with her oftener than the King,
songs they could think of! That the King was and is now going to marry my Lady Falmouth;
drunk at Saxam with Sedley, Buckhurst, &c. the the King is ma  at er entertaining Jermin, and
night that my Lord Arlington came thither, and she is mad at Jermin's going to marry from her: so
would not give him audience, or could not: which is they are all mad!-and thus the kingdom is govtrue, for it was the night that I was there, and saw  erned! But he tells me for certain that nothing
the King go up to his chamber, and was told that is more sure than that the King, and Duke of York,
the King had been drinking."-" He tells me that and the Chancellor, are desirous and labouring all
the King and my Lady Castlemaine are quite broke they can to get an army, whatever the King says to
off, and she is gone away, and is with child, and the Parliament; and he believes that they are at
swears the King shall own it; and she will have it last resolved to stand and fall all three together."
christened in the chapel at White Hall so, and
owned for the King's as other kings have done; or   A little after we find traces of another proshe will bring it into White Hall gallery, and dash ject of the same truly legitimate school.
the brains of it out before the King's face! He tells
me that the King and court were never in the world    "The great discourse now is, that the Parlia-.
so bad as they are now, for gaming, swearing, ment shall be dissolved and another called, which,
women, and drinking, and the most abominable shall give the King the dean and chapter lands;'
vices that ever were in the world; so that all must and that will put him out of debt. And it is said
come to nought."                               that Buckingham do knowingly meet daily with,
"They came to Sir G. Carteret's house at Cran- Wildman and other Commonwealth-men; and that
bourne, and there were entertained, and all made when he is with them he makes the King believe
drunk; and, being all drunk, Armerer did come to that he is with his wenches."
the King, and swore to him by God,'Sir,' says    The next notice of this is in the form of a.
he,'you are- not so kind to the Duke of York of
late as you used to be.'-' Not I' says the King. con ntal converaon with a person of' Why so?'-' Why,' says he,'if you are, let us great intelligence.
drink his health.'-' Why let us,' says the King.   "And he told me, upon my several inquiriesto that:
Then he fell on his knees and drank it; and having purpose, that he did believe it was not yet resolved
done, the King began to drink it.' Nay, sir,' says whether the Parliament should ever meet more or no,
Armerer,'by God you must do it on your knees!' the three great rulers of things now standing thus:
So he did, and then all the company: and having — The Duke of Buckingham is absolutely against
done it, all fell a crying for joy, being all maudlin their meeting, as moved thereto by his people that
and kissing one another! the King the Duke of he advises with, the people of the late times, who.
York, and the Duke of York the King! and in do never expect to have any thing done by this
such a maudlin pickle as never people were: and  Parliament for their religion, and who do propose
so passed the day!"                           that, by the sale of the church lands, they shall be
It affords us no pleasure, however, to expose able to put the King out of debt, &c. He tells methat he is really persuaded that the design of the
uthese    it is of more consequence to mark  Duke of Buckingham  is to bring the state into.
alty; but it is of more consequence to mark  such a condition as, if the King do die without
the political vices to which they so naturally  issue, it shall, upon his death, break into pieces
led. The following entry, on the King's ad- again; and so put by the Duke of Ya.rk,-whorm
13




194                    HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
they have disobliged, they know, to that degree as in one night at play with Lady Castlemaineto despair of his pardon. He tells me that there is and staked 10001. and 15001. on a cast.  It
no way to rule the king but by brisknesse,-which  is a far worse trait, however} in his charthe Duke of Buckingham hath above all men; and
that the Duke of York having it not, his best way acter, that he was by no means scrupulous as
is what he practises,-that is to say, a good temper, to the pretexts upon which he obtained money
which will support him till the Duke of Bucking- from  his people-these memoirs containing
ham and Lord Arlington fall out, which cannot be repeated  notices of accounts deliberately
long first; the former knowing that the latter did, falsified for this purpose —and not a few in
in the time of the Chancellor, endeavour with the
Chancellor to hang him at that time, when he was particular  n whc  the  expenses of  the navy
proclaimed against."                          are exaggerated-we are afraid, not without
our author's co-operation-to cover the misAnd again-. application of the money voted for that most
"The talk which these people about our King popular branch of the service, to very different
have, is to tell him how neither privilege of parlia- purposes.  In another royal imposture, our
ment nor city is any thing; but that his will is all, author now appears to have been also impliand ought to be so: and their discourse, it seems, cated though in a manner far less derogatory
when they are alone, is so base and sordid, that it  though in a manner far less derogatory
makes the eares of the very gentlemen of the back  to his personal honour,-we mean in prostairs (I think he called them) to tingle to hear it curing for the Duke of York, the credit which
spoke in the King's hearing; and that must be very he has obtained with almost all our historians,
bad indeed."                                  for his great skill in maritime affairs; and the
The following is not so material as to doc- extraordinary labour which he bestowed in
trine-though we think it very curious.        improving the condition of the navy. On this'After the bills passed, theKing, sitting on his subject we need do little more than transcribe
throne, with his speech writ in a paper which lie the  decisive statement of the noble Editor to
held in his lap, and scarce looked off of it all the whose care we are indebted for the publicatime he made his speech to them, giving them  tion before us; and who, in the summary of
thanks for their subsidys, of which, had he not Mr. Pepys' life which he has prefixed to it,
need, he would not have asked or received them; observesand that need, not.from any extravagancys of his,
he was sure, in any thing!-but the disorders of   " Mr. Stanier Clarke, in particular, actually
the times. His speech was very plain; nothing at dwells upon the essential and lasting benefit which
all of spirit in it, nor spoke with any; but rather that monarch conferred on his country, by buildon the contrary imperfectly, repeating many time ing up and regenerating the naval power; and ashis words, though he read all: which I am sorry to serts as a proof of the King's great ability, that
see, it having not been hard for him to have got all the regulations still enforced under the orders of the
the speech without booke."-And upon another admiralty are nearly the same as those originally
occasion, " I crowded in and heard the King's drawn up by him. It becomes due therefore to Mr.
speech to them; but he speaks the worst that ever 1  Pepys to explain, that for these improvements, the
heard a man in my life: worse than if he read it value of which no person can doubt, we are indebtall, and he had it in writing in his hand."   ed to him, and not to his royal master. To establish this fact, it is only necessary to refer to the
It is observed soon after-viz. in 1664-as MSS. connected with the subject in the Bodleian
a singular thing, that there should be but two  and Pepysian libraries, by which the extent of Mr.
seamen in Parliament-and not above twenty  Pepys' official labours can alone be appreciated;
or thirty merchants: And yet from various and we even find in the Diary, as early as 1668,
intimations we gather that the deportment of that a long letter of regulation, produced before the
intimat eanther tcommissioners of the navy by the Duke of York,
this aristocratical assembly was by no means comas his own composition, was entirely written by our
very decorous.  We have already had the clerk of the acts."-(I. xxx.)
incidental notice of many members coming
in from dinner half drunk, on the day of the    We do not know  wher the citations we
author's great oration-and some of them  have now made from these curious and most
appear now and then to have gone a little miscellaneous volumes,will enable our readers
farther, —early as the hours of business then  to form a just estimate of their value.  But
were.                                         we fear that, at all events, we cannot now indulge them  in any considerable addition to
"He did tell me, and so did Sir W. Batten, how  their number.  There is a long account of
Sir Allen Brodericke and Sir Allen Apsley did the great fire, and the great sickness in 1666,
come drunk the other day into the House; and did the great fire and
both speak for half an hour, together, and could not and a still longer one of the insulting advance
be either laughed, or pulled, or bid to sit down and of the Dutch fleet to Chatham in 1667, as
hold their peace,-to the great contempt of King's well as of our absurd settlement at Tangiers,
servants and cause; which I am grieved at with and of various naval actions during the period
to which the Diary extends.  But, though all
The mingled extravagance and penury of these contain much curious matter, we are
this disorderly court is strikingly illustrated  not tempted to make any extracts: Both beby two entries, not far from each other, in the  cause the accounts, being given in the broken
year 1667-in one of which is recorded the and minute way which belongs to the form
royal wardrobeman's pathetic  lamentation  of a Diary, do not afford many striking or
over the King's necessities-representing that summary passages, and because what is new
his Majesty has "actually no handkerchiefs, in them, is not for the most part of any great
and but three bands to his neck" —and that importance.  The public besides has been
he does not know where to take up a yard of lately pretty'much satiated with details on.linen for his service!-and the other setting  most of those subjects in the contemporary
forth, that his said Majesty had lost 25,0001. work of Evelyn, —of which we shall only say




MEMOIRS. OF SAMUEL PEI YS.,9~
that though its author was indisputably more no notices worth naming-a bare intimation
of a gentleman, a scholar, and a man of taste  of the deaths of Waller, Cowley, and Daventhan our actuary, it is far inferior both in in- ant, and a few words of Dryden-Milton, we
terest, curiosity, and substantial instruction, think, not once mentioned.  There is more
to that which we are now considering.  The of the natural philosophers of Gresham Coltwo authors, however, we are happy to find, lege, but not much that is valuable —some
were great friends; and no name is mentioned  curious calculations and speculations about
in the latter part of the Diary with more uni- money and coinages-and this odd but auform respect and affection than that of Evelyn  thentic notice of Sir W. Petty's intended will,
— hough  it is very edifying to see how the    "Sir William  Petty did tell me that in good
shrewd, practical sagacity of the man of busi- earnest he hath in his will left some parts of his
ness, revenges itself on the assumed supe- estate to him  that could invent such and such
riority of the philosopher and man of letters. things. As among others, that could discover truly
In this respect we think there is a fine keep- the way of milk coming into the breasts of a woing of character in the sincerity of the fol- man! and he that could invent proper characters to
express to another the mixture of relishes and
lowing passage —                              tastes. And says, that to him that invents gold, he
Y" By water to Deptford, and there made a visit gives nothing for the philosopher's stone; for (says
to Mr. Evelyn, who, among other things, showed  he) they that find out that, will be able to pay themme most excellent painting in little; in distetnper  selves. But, says he, by thts means tt ts better
selves. But, says he, by this means it is better
mIndian m ke, water colours: graveing;e and above p than to go to a lecture; for here my executors, that
all, the whole mezzo-tinto, and the manner of it, must part with this, will be sure to be well conwhich is very pretty, and good things done with it.nced of the invention before they do part with
He read to me very much also of his discourse, he their money.
hath been many years and now is about, about   The Appendix, which seems very judiciousGardenage; which is a most noble and pleasant ly selected, contains some valuable fragments
piece. He read me part of a play or two of his of historical information: but we have not now
own making-very good, but not as he conceits
them, I think, to be. He showed me his fIortus left ourselves room for any account of them;
Hyemalis; leaves laid up in a book of several plants and are tempted to give all we can yet spare
kept dry, which preserve colour, however, and to a few extracts from  a very curious corres.
look very finely, better than an herball. In fine a pondence between Mr. Pepys and Lord Reay
most excellent person he is, —and must be allowed and Lord Tarbut in 1699, on the subject o
a little for a little conceitedness; but he may well
be so, being a man so much above others. He read the Second Sight among our Highlanders.
me, though with too much gusto, some little poems Lord Reay seems to have been a firm believer
of his own that were not transcendant; yet one or in this gift or faculty-but Lord Tarbut had
two very pretty epigrams; among others, of a lady been a decided sceptic, and was only conlooking in at a grate, and being pecked at by an verted by the proofs of its reality, which oceagle that was there.'
curred to himself while in the Highlands, in
And a little after he chuckles not a little  the year 1652 and afterwards.  Some of the
over his learned friend's failure, in a specula- stories he tells are not a little remarkable.
tion about making bricks-concluding very  For example, he says, that one night when
sagely, "so that I see the most ingenious one of his Celtic attendants was entering a
men may sometimes be mistaken!"               house where they had proposed to sleep, he
We meet with the names of many distin- suddenly started back with a scream, and fell
guished men in these pages, and some char- down in an agony.
acteristic anecdotes,-but few bold characters.
" I asked what the matter was, for he seemed to
He has a remarkable interview with Claren- me to be very much frighted: he told me very serindon-in which the cautious and artful de- ouslythat I should not lodge in that house, because
meanour of that veteran politician is finely  shortly a dead coffin would be carried out of it, for
displayed, though on a very trivial occasion. many were carrying it when he was heard cry! I
The  Navy Board had marked some trees for neglecting his words and staying there, he said to
cutting in CBarendon Park without his leave- others of the servants he was very sorry for it, and
cutting in Clarendon Park without his leave —  that what he saw would surely come to pass: and
which he had expressed great indignation; that what he saw would surely come to pass: and
at which he had expressed great indignation; though no sick person was then there, yet the landand our author went, in a prodigious fright, to  lord, a healthy Highlander, died of an apoplecticfit
pacify him.  He  found him  busy hearing  before I left the house."
causes in his chambers, and was obliged to wait.   Another occurred in 1653, when, in a very
" After all done, he himself called,' Come, Mr. rugged part of the country, he fell in with a
Pepys, you and I will take a turn in the garden.' man who was staring into the air with marks
So he was led down stairs, having the goute, and of great agitation.  Upon asking what it was
there walked with me, I think above an hour, talk- that disturbed him, he answered,
ing most friendly, but cunningly!-He told me he
would not direct me in any thing, that it might not   "I see a troop of Englishmen leading their horses
be said that the Lord Chancellor did labour to abuse down that hill-and some of them are already in the
the King; or (as I offered) direct the suspending the plain, eating the barley which is growing in the
report of the purveyors: but I see what he means, field near to the hill.' This was on the 4th.of May
and will make it my work to do him service in it. (for I noted the day), and it was four or five days
But Lord! to see how we poor wretches dare not before any barley was sown in the field he spoke of.
do the King good service, for fear of the greatness Alexander Monro asked him how he knew they
of these men!"                                 were Englishmen: he answered, because they were
There is no literary intelligence of any value leading horses, and had on hats and boots, which
1eaindrothsor.  Plashe knew no Scotchmen would have on there. We
o10 be gained from this work.  Play collectors took little notice of the whole story as other than a
will probably find the names of many lost foolish vision, but wished that an English party were
pieces-but of our classical authors there are there, we being then at war with them, and the




186                    HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
place almost inaccessible for horsemen. But the he had been seen with a daiger run into his
beginning of August thereafter, the Earl of Middle- breast —and though nothing ever happened to
ton, then lieutenant for the King in the Highlands, him  one of his servants. to whom  he had
having occasion to march a party of his towards thehe h
South Islands, sent his foot through a place called given the doublet which he wore at the time
Inverlacwell, and the forepart, which was first down of this intimation, wvas stabbed through it, in
the hill, did fall to eating the barley which was on the very place where the dagger had been
the little plain under it."                   seen.  Lord Reay adds the following addiAnother of his lordship's experiences was tional instance, of this glancing, as it were, of
as follows. In January 1682, he was sitting the prophecy on the outer garment.
with two friends in a house in Ross-shire,    John Macky, of Dilril, having put on a new
when a man from the islands                   suit of clothes, was told by a seer that he did see
the gallows upon his coat, which he never noticed;
" Desired me to rise from that chair, for it was but some time after gave his coat to his servant,
an unlucky one. I asked'Why?' He answered, William Forbess, to whose honesty there could be'Because there was a dead man in the chair next nothing said at that time; but he was shortly after
to it.'-' Well,' said I,'if it be but in the next, I hanoed for theft, with the same coat about him: my
may safely sit here: but what is the likeness of the informer being an eye-witness of his execution, and
man?' He said he was a tall man with a long grey one who had heard what the seer said before."
coat, booted, and one of his legs hanging over the
chair, and his head hanging down to the other side- His lordship  also  mentions, that these
and his arm backward, as it were broken. There visions were seen by blind people, as well as
were then some English troops quartered near the those who had sight,-and adds, that there
place, and there being at that time a great frost was a blind woman in his time who had the
after a thaw, the country was wholly covered over faculty in great perfection  and foretold many
with ice. Four or five Englishmen riding by thisretold man                               y
house, not two hours after the vision, where we things that afterwards happened, as hundreds
were sitting by the fire, we heard a great noise, of living witnesses could attest.  We have no
which proved to be these troopers, with the help of time now to speculate on these singular leother servants, carrying in one of their number who gends-but, as curious mementos of the lubrihad got a very mischievous fall and had his arm  city of human testimony, we think it right
broke; and falling frequently into swooning fits, they should be once more brought into notice.
they brought him to the hall, and set him in the
very chair and in the very posture which the seer   And now we have done  with Mr. Pepys.
had proposed: but the man did not die, though he There is trash enough no doubt in his journal,
revived with great difficulty."               — trifling  facts, and  silly  observations in
These instances are chiefly remarkable as abundance. But we can scarcely say that
being given upon the personal knowledge of we wish it a page shorter; and are of opinan individual of great judgment, acuteness, ion, that there is very little of it which does
and firmness of character.  The following is not help us to understand the character of his
from a still higher quarter; since the reporter times, and his contemporaries, better than'^as not even a Scotchman, and indeed no less we should ever have done without it; and
a person than Lord Clarendon.  In a letter to make us feel more assured that we compreMilr. Pepys in 1701, he informs him, that, in hend the great historical events of the age,
1661, upon a Scottish gentleman being in his and  the people who bore a part in them.
presence introduced to Lady Cornbury, he Independent of instruction altogether too,
was observed to gaze upon her with a singu- there is no denying. that it is very entertainlar expression of melancholy; and upon one ing thus to be transported into the very heart
of the company asking the reason, he replied, of a time so long gone by; and to be admitted
"I see her in blood!"  She was at that time into the domestic intimacy, as well as the
in perfect health, and remained so for near a public councils, of a man of great activity and
month, when she fell ill of small-pox: And   circulation in the reign of Charles II. Read"Upon the ninth day after the small-pox ap-ing this book, in short, seems to us to be quite
peared, in the morning, she bled at the nose, which as good as living with Mr. Samuel Pepys in
quickly stopt; but in the afternoon the blood burst his proper person,-and though the  court
out again with great violence at her nose and scandal may be detailed with more grace and
mouth, and about eleven of the clock that night vivacity in the Memoires de Grammont, we
she dyed, almost weltering in her blood!"    have no doubt but even this part of his multiThere is a great number of similar stories, farious subject is treated with far greater
reported on the most imposing testimony-  fidelity and fairness in the work before usthough, in some instances, the seer, we must while it gives us more clear and undistorted
say, is somewhat put to it to support his glimpses into the true English life of the
credit, and make out the accomplishment of times-for the court was substantially foreign
his vision. One chieftain, for instance, had -than all the other memorials of them  put
long been seen by the gifted, with an arrow  together, that have come down to our own.
sticking in his thigh; from which they all in-   The book is rather too dear and tnagnififerred, that he was either to die or to suffer cent. But the editor's task we think excelgreatly, from a wound in that place. To their lently performed.  The ample text is not
surprise, however, he died of some other in- incumbered with ostentatious commentaries.
hiiction, and the seers were getting out of repu- But very brief and useful notices are supplied
tation; when luckily a fray arose at the fune- of almost all the individuals who are menral, and an arrow was shot fairly through the tioned; and an admirable and very minute
thigh of the dead man, in the very spot where index is subjoined, which methodises the im.the vision had shown it! On another occa- mense miscellany-and places the vast chaos
sion, Lord Reay's grandfather was told that at our disposal.




FOX'S REIGN OF JAMES THE SECOND.                         197
(311tv, 18US.)
d History of the early Part of the Reign of James the Second; with an Introductory Chapter.
By the Right Honourable CHARLES JAMES Fox. To which is added an Appendix. 4to
pp. 340. Miller, London: 1808.
IF it be true that high expectation is almost   To those who know Mr. Fox only by the
always followed by disappointment, it is great outlines of his public history,-who
scarcely possible that the readers of Mr. Fox's know merely that he passed from the dissihistory should not be disappointed. So great pations of too gay a youth into the tumults
a statesman certainly has not appeared as an and cabals of a political life,-and that his
author since the time of Lord Clarendon; days were spent in contending about public
and, independent of the great space which he measures, and in guiding or averting the temfills in the recent history of this country, and I pests of faction,-the spirit of indulgent and
the admitted splendour of his general talents, tender feeling which pervades this book must
-his known zeal for liberty, the fame of his appear very unaccountable. Those who live
eloquence, and his habitual study of every much in the world, even in a private station,
thing relating to the constitution, concurred to commonly have their hearts a little hardened,
direct an extraordinary degree of attention to and their moral sensibility a little impaired.
the work upon which he was known to be But statesmen and practical politicians are,
engaged, and to fix a standard of unattainable with justice, suspected of a still greater forgetexcellence for the trial of his first acknowl- fulness of mild impressions and honourable
edged production. The very circumstance of scruples.  Coming necessarily into contact
his not having published any considerable with great vices and great sufferings, they
work during his life, and of his having died must gradually lose some of their horror for
before bringing this to a conclusion, served to the first, and much of their compassion for
increase the general curiosity; and to accu- the last. Constantly engaged in contention,
mulate upon this single fragment the interest they cease pretty generally to regard any huof his whole literary existence.         man beings as objects of sympathy or disinNo human production, we suppose, could terested attachment; and, mixing much with
bear to be tried by such a test: and those who the most corrupt part of mankind. naturally
sit down to the perusal of the work before us, come'to regard the species itself with indifunder the influence of such impressions, are ference. if not with contempt. All the softer
very likely to rise disappointed. With those, feelings are apt to be worn off in the rough
however. who are at all on their guard against conflicts of factious hostility; and all the finer
the delusive effect of these natural emotions, moralities to be effaced, by the constant conthe result, we venture to predict, will be dif- templation of expediency, and the necessities
ferent; and for ourselves, we are happy to of occasional compliance.
say, that we have not been disappointed at   Such is the common conception which we
all; but, on the contrary, very greatly moved form of men who have lived the life of Mr.
and delighted with the greater part of this Fox; and such, in spite of the testimony of
singular volume.                         partial friends, is the impression which most
We do not think it has any great value as a private persons would have retained of him,
history; nor is it very admirable as a piece if this volume had not come to convey a truer
of composition. It comprehends too short a and a more engaging picture to the world at
period, and includes too few events, to add large, and to posterity.
much to our knowledge of facts; and abounds   By far the most remarkable thing, then, in
too little with splendid passages to lay much this book, is the tone of indulgence and unhold on the imagination.  The reflections feigned philanthropy which prevails in every
which it contains, too, are generally more re- part of it; —a most amiable sensibility to all
markable for their truth and simplicity, than the kind and domestic affections, and a sort
for any great fineness or apparent profundity of softheartedness towards the sufferings of
of thinking; and many opportunities are ne- individuals, which seems hitherto to Lave
elected, or rather purposely declined, of en- been thought incompatible with the stern digtering into large and general speculations. nity of history. It cannot but strike us with
Notwithstanding all this, the work, we think, something still more pleasing than surprise,
is invaluable; not only as a memorial of the to meet with traits of almost feminine tenderhigh principles and gentle dispositions of its ness in the sentiments of this veteran statesillustrious author, but as a iecord of those man; and a general character of charity
sentiments of true English constitutional in- towards all men, not only remote from the
dependenice, which seem to have been nearly rancour of vulgar hostility, but purified in a
forgotten in the bitterness and hazards of our great degree from the asperities of party conmnore recent contentions. It is delightful as tention. He expresses indeed, throughout, a
the picture of a character; and most instruct- high-minded contempt for what is base, and
ve and opportune as a remembrancer of pub- a thorough detestation for what is cruel: But
tic duties: And we must be permitted to say yet is constantly led, by a sort of generous
a word or two upon each of these subjects.   prejudice in favour of human nature, to admit




198                   HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
all possible palliations for the conduct of the from their ancestors in the days of the Revolu
individual delinquent, and never attempts to tion. In the same circumstances, we are per.
shut him out from the'benefit of those natural suaded, they would have acted with the same
sympathies of which the bad as well as the spirit;-nay, in consequence of the more
good are occasionally the objects, from their general diffusion of education and intellifortune or situation. He has given a new  gence, we believe they would have been still
character, we think, to history, by this soft more zealous and more unanimous in the
and condescending concern for the feelings cause of liberty. But we have of late been
of individuals; and not only left a splendid exposed to the operation of various causes
record of the gentleness and affectionate sim- which have tended to lull our vigilance, and
plicity of his own dispositions. but set an ex- relax our exertions; and which threaten, unample by which we hope that men of genius less powerfully counteracted, to bring on,
may be taught hereafter to render their in- gradually, such a general indifference and
structions more engaging and  impressive. forgetfulness of the interests of freedom. as to
Nothing, we are persuaded, can be more prepare the people for any tolerably mild
gratifying to his friends. than the impression form of servitude which their future rulers
of his character which this work will carry may be tempted to impose upon them.
down to posterity; nor is it a matter of indif-   The first, and the principal of these causes,
ference to the country, that its most illustrious however paradoxical it may seem, is the acstatesman should be yet more distinguished tual excellence of our laws, and the supposed
for the amiableness of his private affections.  inviolability of the constitution. The second
This softness of feeling is the first remark- is, the great increase of luxury, and the treable thing in the work before us. The second mendous patronage of the government.  The
is perhaps of more general importance. It is, last is, the impression made and maintained
that it contains the only appeal to the old by the events of the French Revolution. We
principles of English constitutional freedom, shall say but a word upon each of these proand the only expression of those firm  and lific themes of speculation.
temperate sentiments of independence, which    Because our ancestors stipulated wisely for
are the peculiar produce, and natural protec- the public at the Revolution, it seemed to
tion of our mixed government, which we recol- have become a common opinion, that nothing
lect to have met with for very many years. was left -to their posterity-but to pursue their
The tone of the work, in this respect, recalls private interest. The machine of Governus to feelings which seem  of late to have ment was then completed and set agoingslumbered in the country which they used to and it will go on without their interference.
inspire.  In our indolent reliance upon the Nobody talks now of the divine right, or the
imperishable virtue of our constitution, and dispensing power of kings, or ventures to proin our busy pursuit of wealth, we appeared to pose to govern without Parliaments, or to
be forgetting our higher vocation of free citi- levy taxes without their authority; —therezens; and, in our dread of revolution or foreign fore, our liberties are secure;-and it is only
invasion, to have lost sight of those intestine factious or ambitious people that affect any
dangers to which our liberties are always jealousy of the executive. Things go on very
more immediately exposed. The history of smoothly as they are; and it can never be
the Revolution of 1688, and of the times im- the interest of any party in power, to attempt
mediately preceding, was eminently calculated any thing very oppressive or injurious to the
to revive those feelings, and restore those public. By such reasonings, men excuse their
impressions, which so many causes had in abandonment of all concern for the commuour days conspired to obliterate; and, in the nity, and find, in the very excellence of the
hands of Mr. Fox, could scarcely have failed constitution, an apology for exposing it to corto produce a very powerful effect. On this ruption. It is obvious, however, that liberty,
account, it must be matter of the deepest re- like love, is as hard to keep as to win; and
gret that he was not permitted to finish, or that the exertions by which it was originally
indeed to do more than begin, that inspiring gained will be worse than fruitless, if they be
narrative. Even in the little which he has not followed up by the assiduities by which
done, however, we discover the spirit of the alone it can be preserved. Wherever there
master: Even in the broken prelude which is power. we may be sure that there is, or.he has here sounded, the true notes are struck will be, a disposition to increase it; and if
with such force and distinctness, and are in there be not a constant spirit of jealousy and
themselves so much in unison with the natu- of resistance on the part of the people, every
ral chords of every British heart, that we think monarchy will gradually harden into a desno slight vibration will be excited throughout potism. It will not, indeed, wantonly provoke
the country; and would willingly lend our or alarm, by seeking again to occupy those
assistance to propagate it into every part of very positions from which it had once been
the'empire. In order to explain more fully dislodged: but it will extend itself in other
the reasons for which we set so high a value quarters, and march on silently, under the
upon the work before us on this particular ac- colours of a venal popularity.
count, we must be allowed to enlarge a little   This indolent reliance on the sufficiency of
upon the evil which we think it calculated to the constitution for its own preservation, af.
correct.                                    fords great facilities. no doubt, to those who
We do not think the present generation may be tempted to project its destruction;
of our countrymen substantially degenerated but the efficient means are to be found chiefly




FOX'S REIGN OF JAMES THE SECOND.                             1is
m the prevailing manners of the people, and suffer tremendously in the period of transition
the monstrous patronage of the government. If ambition and great activity therefore be not
It can admit of no doubt, we suppose, that necessary to our happiness, we shall do wisely
trade, which has made us rich, has made us to occupy ourselves with the many innocent
still more luxurious; and that the increased and pleasant pursuits that are allowed under
necessity of expense, has in general outgone all governments; instead of spreading tumult
the means of supplying it. Almost every in- and discontent, by endeavouring to.realize
dividual now finds it more difficult to live on some political conceit of our own imagination.
a level with his equals; than he did when all Mr. Hume, we are afraid, is chiefly responsiwere poorer; almost every man, therefore, is ble for the prevalence of this Epicurean and
needy; and he who is both needy and luxu- ignoble strain of sentiment in this country,rious, holds his independence on a very pre- an author from whose dispositions and undercarious tenure. Government, on the other standing, a very different doctrine might have
hand, has the disposal of nearly twenty mil- been anticipated.*  But, under whatever aulions per annum, and the power of nominating thority it is maintained, we have no scruple
to two or three hundred thousand posts or in saying, that it seems to us as obviously
places of emolument;-the whole population false as it is pernicious. We need not appeal
of the country amounting (1808) to less than to Turkey or to Russia to prove, that neither
five millions of grown men. The consequence liberal nor even gainful pursuits can be caris, that, beyond the rank of mere labourers, ried on with advantage, where there is no
there is scarcely one man out of three who political freedom: For, even laying out of
does not hold or hope for some appointment view the utter impossibility of securing the
or promotion from  government, and is not persons and properties of individuals in any
consequently disposed to go all honest lengths other way, it is certain that the consciousness
in recommending himself to its favour. This, of independence is a great enjoyment in itself,
it must be admitted, is a situation which and that, without it, all the powers of the
justifies some alarm for the liberties of the mind, and all the capacities of happiness, are
people; and, when taken together with that gradually blunted and destroyed. It is like
general indifference to the public which has the privation of air and exercise, or the emasbeen already noticed, accounts sufficiently for culation of the body;-which, though they
that habit of presuming in favour of all exer- may appear at first to conduce to tranquillity
tions of authority, and against all popular and indolent enjoyment, never fail to enfeeble
discontent or interference, which is so re- the whole frame, and to produce a state of
markably the characteristic of the present oppressive languor and debility, in comparigeneration. From this passive desertion of son with which even wounds and fatigue
the people, it is but one step to abet and de- would be delicious.
fend the actual oppressions of their rulers;   To counteract all these enervating and deand men, otherwise conscientious, we are pressing causes, we had, no doubt, the increasafraid, too often impose upon themselves by ing opulence of the lower and middling orders
no better reasonings than the following-  of the people, naturally leadingthem to aspire
ic This measure, to be sure, is bad, and some- to greater independence, and improving their
what tyrannical; —but men are not angels; —  education and general intelligence. And thus,
all human government is imperfect; and, on public opinion, which is in all countries the
the whole, ours is much too good to be quar- great operating check upon authority, had
relied with.  Besides, what good purpose become more extensive and more enlightened;
could be answered by my individual opposi- and might perhaps have been found a suffition  I might ruin my own fortune, indeed,
and blast the prospects of my children; but it   * Few things seem more unaccountable, and inwould be too romantic to imagine, that the deed absurd, than that Hume should have taken
fear of my displeasure would produce an im- part with high-church and high-monarchy men.
The persecutions which he suffered in his youth
maculate administration-so I will hold my from the Presbyterians, may perhaps have influtongue, and shift for myself as well as possi- enced his ecclesiastical partialities. But that he
ble."  When the majority of those who have should have sided with the Tudors and the Stuarts
influence in the country reason in this manner, against the people, seems quite inconsistent with
it surely cannot be unnecessary to remind us, all the great traits of his character. His unrivalled
now and then, of the great things that were sagacity must have looked with contempt on the
done when the people roused themselves preposterous arguments by which the jus divinum
done when the people roused     was maintained. His natural benevolence must
against their oppressors.                  have suggested the cruelty of subjecting the enjoyIn aid of these actual temptations of inter- ments of thousands to the caprice of one unfeeling
est and indolence, come certain speculative individual; and his own practical independence in
doctrines, as to the real value of liberty, and private life, might have taught him the value of
the illusions by which men are carried away those feelings which he has so mischievously de.
rided. Mr. Fox seems to have been struck with
who fancy themselves acting on the principle the same surprise at this strange trait in the charac-.
of patriotism. Private happiness, it is dis- ter of our philosopher. In a letter to Mr. Laing,
covered, has but little dependence on the he says, " He was an excellent man, and of great
niature of the government. The oppressions powers of mind; but his partiality to kings and
of monarchs and demagogues are nearly equal princes is intolerable  nay, t is, in my opinion,
in degree, though a little different in form quite ridiculous; and is more like the foolish ad.
in degree, though a little different in form   miration which women and children sometimes
and the only thing certain is, that in flying have for kings, than the opinion right or wrong,
from the one we shall fall into the other, and of a philosopher.'




200                   HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
cient corrective of all our other corruptions, of Mr. Fox's, as likely to put an end to a
had things gone on around us in their usual system  of timidity so apt to graduate into
and accustomed channels.  Unfortunately, servility; and to famili.rize his countrymen
however, the French Revolution came, to as- once more to speak and to think of Charles,
tonish and appal the world; and, originating of James, and of Strafford, —and of William,
with the people, not only subverted thrones and Russell, and  Sydney,-as it becomes
and establishments, but made such havoc on Englishmen to speak and to think of such
the lives and properties and principles of in- characters. To talk with affected tenderness
dividuals, as very naturally to excite the horror of oppressors, may suit the policy of those
and alarm of all whose condition was not al- who wish to bespeak the clemency of an
ready intolerable. This alarm, in so far as it Imperial Conqueror; but must appear pecurelated to this country, was always excessive, liarly base and inconsistent in all who profess
and in a great degree unreasonable:  But it an anxiety to rouse the people to great exerwas impossible perhaps altogether to escape tions in the cause of their independence.
it; and the consequences have been incalcu-   The volume itself, which has given occasion
lably injurious to the interests of practical to these reflections, and from which we have
liberty. During the ragitdg of that war which withheld our readers too long, consists of a
Jacobinism in its most disgusting form carried  preface or general introduction from the pen
on against rank and royalty, it was natural for of Lord Holland; an introductory chapter,
those who apprehended the possibility of a comprising a review oftthe leading events,
similar conflict at home, to fortify those orders from the year 1640 to the death of Charles
with all that reason and even prejudice could II.; two chapters of the history of the reign
supply for their security, and to lay aside for of James, which include no more than seven
the time those jealousies and  hereditary months of the year 1685, and narrate very
grudges, upon which, in better days, it was little but the unfortunate expeditions of Artheir duty to engage in contention. While a gyle and of Monmouth; and a pretty long'aging fever of liberty was epidemic in the Appendix, consisting chiefly of the correneighbourhood, the ordinary diet of the people spondence between Barillon, the French conappeared too inflammatory for their constitu- fidential minister at the court of England, and
tion; and it was thought advisable to abstain his master Louis XIV.
from articles, which, at all other times, were   Lord Holland's part of the volume is written
allowed to be necessary for their health and with great judgment, perspicuity, and pro.
vigour. Thus, a sort of tacit convention was priety; and though it contains less anecdote
entered into,-to say nothing, for a while, of and minute information with regard to his
the follies and vices of princes, the tyranny illustrious kinsman than every reader must
of courts, or the rights of the people. The wish to possess, it not only gives a very satisRevolution of 1688, it was agreed, could not factory account of the progress of the work
be mentioned with praise, without giving to which it is prefixed, but affords us some
some indirect encouragement to the Rtvolu- glimpses of the character and opinions of its
tion of 1789; and it was thought as well to author, which are peculiarly interesting, both
say nothing in favour of Hampden, or Russell, from the authenticity of the source from which
or Sydney, for fear it might give spirits to they are derived, and from the unostentatious
Robespierre, Danton, or Marat. To this strict simplicity with which they are communicated.
regimen the greater part of the nation sub- Lord Holland has not been able to ascertain
mitted of their own accord; and it was forced at what period Mr. Fox first formed the deupon the remainder by a pretty vigorous sys- sign of writing a history; but, from the year
tem of proceeding. Now, we do not greatly  1797, when he ceased to give a regular attendblame either the alarm, or the precautions ance in parliament, he was almost entirely
which it dictated; but we do very seriously occupied with literary schemes and avocalament, that the use of those precautions tions. The following little sketch of the temshould have degenerated into a sort of na- per and employments of him who was pitied
kional habit; and should be continued and by many as a disappointed politician, is exapproved of so very long after the danger tremely amiable; and, we are now convinced
which occasioned them has ceased.           by the fragment before us, correctly true.
It is now at least ten years since Jacobinism
was prostrated at Paris; and it is still longer     During his retirement, that love of literature,
and fondness for poetry. which neither pleasure nor
since it ceased to be regarded with any thing business had ever extinguished, revived with an
but horror in this country. Yet the favourers ardour, such as few, in the eagerness of youth or
of power would still take advantage of its in pursuit of fame or advantage, are capable of
name to shield authority from question; and feeling. For some time, however, his studies were
to throw obloquy on the rights and services not directed to any particular object. Such was the
o th     power of habit has come happy disposition of his mind, that his own reflecof the people. The power of habit has come tions, whether supplied by conversation, desultory
unfortunately to their aid; and it is still un- reading, or the common occurrences of a life in the
fashionable, and, we are afraid, not very country, were always sufficient to call forth the
popular, to talk of the tyranny of the Stuarts, vi.our and exertion of' his faculties. Intercourse
and the triumph of the Revolution, in the with the world had so little deadened in him the
tone which was universal and established  sense of the simplest enjoyments, that even in the
within these last twenty years. For our parts, hours of apparent leisure and inactivity, he retainea
within these l       ast twenty years. Fo r partsi  hat keen relish of existence, which, after the first
however, we see no sort of reason for this impressions of life, is so rarely excited but by great
change; and we hail, with pleasure, this work interests and strong passions. Hence it was that




FOX'S REIGN OF JAMES'ILi- SECOND.                               201
in the interval between his active attendance in par- times. A conversation which passed on the sub.
liament, and the undertaking of his History, he ject of the literature of the age of James the Senever felt the tedium of a vacant day. A verse ini cond, proves his rigid adherence to these ideas;
Cowper, which he frequently repeated,         and perhaps the substance of it may serve to illus.'How various his employments whom the world   trate and explain them. In speaking of the writers
Calls idle!'                              of that period, he lamented that he had not devised
was an accurate description of the life he was then a method of interweaving any account of them or
leading; and I am persuaded, that if he had con- their works, much less any criticism on their style,
sulted his own gratifications only, it would have into his history. On my suggesting the example
continued to be so. The circumstances which led of Hume and Voltaire, who had discussed such
him once more to take an active part in public dis-topics at some length, either at the end of each
cussions, are foreign to the purposes of this preface. reign, or in a  separate chapter, he observed, with
It is sufficient to remark, that they could not be much commendation of their execution of it, that
foreseen, and  that his notion of enbagingin some such a contrivance might be a good mode of writing
literary undertakingwas adoptedduringagisnretire- critical essays, but that it was, in his opinion, inment, and with the prospect of long and uninter-compatible with the nature of his undertaking,
rupted leisure before him."-p. iii. iv.       which, if it ceased to be a narrative, ceased to be a
history." —p. xxxvi. xxxvii.
He seems to have fixed finally on the his-   Now  we must be permitted to say at
tory of the Revolution, about the year 1799;   Now, we must be permitted to say, tnat
but even after the work was begun, he not this is a view of the nature of history, which,
only dedicated large portions of his time to in so far as it is intelligible, appears to be
the study of Greek literature, and poetry in very narrow and erroneous; and which seems,
general, but meditated and announced to his like all such partial views, to have been so
correspondents a great variety of publications, little adhered to by the author himself, as
upon a very wide range of subjects. Among only to exclude many excellences, without atthese were, an edition of Dryden-a Defence taining the praise even of consistency in error.
of  Racine and of the French Stage-an Essay  The object of history, we conceive, is to give
on the Beauties of Euripides-a Disquisition  us a       clear narrative of the transactions of past
upon Hume's History-and an Essay or Dia- ages, with a view of the character and condilogue on Poetry, History, and Oratory.  In  tion of those who were concerned in them,
1802, the greater part of the work, as it now  and such reasonings and reflections as may
stands, was finished; but the author wished  be necessary to explain their connection, or
to consult the papers in the Scotch College, naturalonreviewingtheirresults. Thatsome
and the Depot des Affaires etr~angeres at Paris, account of the authors of a literary age should
a~nd the Dep~t des Affaires etrangi    at Paris, have a place in such.a composition, seems to
and took the opportunity of the peace to pay  have a place in such a co  mposi tion, seems to
a visit to that capital accordingly. After his follow upon two considerations: first. because
return, he made some additions to his chap- it is unquestionably one object of history to
ters; but being soon after recalled to the give us a distinct view of the state and condition
duties of public life. he never afterwards of the age and people with whose affairs it is
found leisure to go on with the work to which  occupied; and nothing can serve so well to
he had dedicated himself with so much zeal illustrate their true state and condition as a
and assiduity. What he did write was finished, correct estimate and description of the great
however, for the most part, with very great au       thors    ey produced: and, secondly, becare. He wrote very slow: and wasuch authors did
fastidious in the choice of his expressions;  flourish in such a period, and were ingenious
holding pedantry and affectation, however, in and elegant, or rude and ignorant, are facts
far greater horror than carelessness or rough- which are interesting in themselves, and may
ness. He commonly wrote detached sentences be made the object of narrative Just as proon slips of paper, and afterwards dictated them  perly as that such  and  such princes or minisoff to Mrs. Fox, whQ copied them into the ters did flourish at the same time, and were
book from which the present volume has been  ambitious or slothful, tyrannical or friends to
printed.without the alteration of a single syl- liberty.  Political events are not the only
lable.                                        events which are recorded even in ancient
The only other part of Lord Holland's state- history: and, now when it is generally adment, to which we think it necessary to call mitted, that even political events cannot be
the attention of the reader, is that in which fully understood or accounted for without
he thinks it necessary to explain the peculiar taking into view the preceding and concominotions which Mr. Fox entertained on the tant changes in  manners, literature, cornsubject of historical composition, and the very merce, &c. it cannot fail to appear surprising,
rigid laws to which he had subjected himself that an author of such a compass of mind as
in the execution of his important task.       belonged to Mr. Fox, should have thought of
confining himself to the mere chronicling of
" It is therefore necessary to observe, that he had  confining himself to theld himself excluded
formed his plan so exclusively on the model of an- wr...         X
cient writers, that he not only felt some repugnance by the laws of historical composition, from
to the modern practice of notes, but he thought that touching upon topics so much more interestall which an historian wished to say. should be in- ing.
troduced as part of a continued narration, and never   The truth is, howeveir, that Mr. Fox has by
assume the appearance of a digression, much less no means adhered to this plan of merely
of a dissertation annexed to it. From the period, A" telling the story of the times" of which he
therefore, that he closed his Introductory Chapter, treats. On the contrary, he is more full of
he defined his duty as an author, to consist in re- treats.
counting the facts as they arose; or in his simple argument, and what is properly called refleeand forcible language;, in telling the story of those tion, than most modern historians with whom




202                   HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS
we are acquainted. His argument, to be sure, tion; and even if it were not do, the question
is chiefly directed to ascertain the truth of would still be,-by what change in the dis.
reputed facts, or the motives of ambiguous positions of the army and the nation Monk
actions; and his reflections, however just and was able to make them do it. The second
natural, may commonly be considered as re- event, which must always appear unaccount.
dundant, with a view to mere information. able upon the mere narrative of the circumOf another kind of reasoning; indeed, he is stances, is the base and abject submission of
more sparing; though of a kind far more valu- the people to the avowed tyranny of the reable, and, in our apprehension, far more es- stored Charles, when he was pleased at last
sential to the true perfection of history. We to give up the use of Parliaments, and to tax
allude now to those general views of the and govern on his own single authority. This
causes which influence the character and dis- happened when most of those must have still
position of the people at large; and which, as been alive who had seen the nation rise up in
they vary from age to age, bring a greater or arms against his father; and within five years
a smaller part of the nation into contact with of the time when it rose up still more unaniits government, and ultimately produce the mously against his successor, and not only
success or failure of every scheme of tyranny changed the succession of the crown, but very
or freedom. The more this subject is medi- strictly defined and limited its prerogatives.
tated, the more certain, we are persuaded, it The third, is the Revolution itself; an event
will appear, that all permanent and important which was brought about by the very indioccurrences in the internal history of a coun- viduals who had submitted so quietly to the
try, are the result of those changes in the domination of Charles, and who, when assemgeneral character of its population; and that bled in the House of Commons under James
kings and ministers are necessarily guided in himself, had, of their own accord, sent one of
their projects by a feeling of the tendencies their members to the Tower for having obof this varying character. and fail or succeed, served, upon a harsh and tyrannical expresexactly as they had judged correctly or erro- sion of the King's, that "' he hoped they were
neously of its condition. To trace the causes all Englishmen, and not to be frighted with a
and the modes of its variation, is therefore to few hard words."  It is not to give us the
describe the true sources of events; and, history of these events, merely to set down
merely to narrate the occurrences to which it the time and circumstances of the occurrence,
gave rise, is to recite a history of actions with- They evidently require some explanation, in
out intelligible motives, and of effects without order to be comprehended; and the narrative
assignable causes. It is true, no doubt, that will be altogether unsatisfactory, as well as
political events operate in their turn on that totally barren of instruction, unless it give
national character by which they are previ- some account of those changes in the general
ously moulded and controuled: But they are temper and opinion of the nation, by which
very far, indeed, from being the chief agents such contradictory actions became possible.
in its formation; and the history of those very Mr. Fox's conception of the limits of legiti.
events is necessarily imperfect, as well as mate history, restrained him, we are afraid
uninstructive, if the consideration of those from entering into such considerations; and
other agents is omitted. They consist of they will best estimate the amount of his
every thing which affects the character of error, who are most aware of the importance
individuals:-manners, education, prevailing of the information of which it has deprived
occupations, religion, taste,-and, above all, us. Nothing, in our apprehension, can be
the distribution of wealth, and the state of beyond the province of legitimate history,
prejudice and opinions.                   which tends to give us clear conceptions of
It is the more to be regretted, that such a the times and characters with which that hismind as Mr. Fox's should have been bound tory is conversant; nor can the story of any
up from such a subject by the shackles of ain time be complete or valuable, unless it look
idle theory; because the period of which he before and after,-to the causes and consetreats affords the finest of all opportunities for quences of the events which it details. and
prosecuting such an inquiry, and does not, in- mark out the period with which it is occupied,
deed, admit of an intelligible or satisfactory as part of a greater series, as well as an object
history upon any other conditions. There are of separate consideration.
three great events, falling within that period,   In proceeding to the consideration of Mr.
of which, it appears to us, that "the story" Fox's own part of this volume, it may be
has not yet been intelligibly told, for want of as well to complete that general estimate of
some such analysis of the national feelings. its excellence and defects which we have
One is, the universal joy and sincere confi- been led incidentally to express in a good
dence with which Charles II. was received degree already. We shall then be able to
back, without one stipulation for the liberties pursue our analysis of the successive chapof the people, or one precaution against the ters with less distraction.
abuses of power. This was done by the very   The sentiments, we think, are almost al.
people who had waged war against a more just, and candid, and manly; but the narraamiable Sovereign, and quarrelled with the tive is too minute and diffusive. and does
Protector for depriving them of their freedom. not in general flow with much spirit or faIt is saying nothing, to say that Monk did this cility. Inconsiderable incidents are detailed
by means of the army. It was not done at far too great length; and an extreme and
either by Monk or the army, but by the na- painful anxiety is shown to ascertain the




FOX'S REIGN OF JAMES THE SECOND.'203
exact truth of doubtful or contested passages, had justice on their side, he says, cant ot be
and the probable motives of insignificant and  reasonably doubted, —but seems to think that
ambiguous actions.  The labour which is something more might have been done, to
thus visibly bestowed on the work, often ap- bring matters to an accommodation.  With
pears, therefore, disproportioned to the im- regard to the execution of the King, he makes
portance of the result. The history becomes, the following striking observations, in that
m a certain degree, languid and heavy; and  tone of fearless integrity and natural mildsomething like a feeling of disappointment ness, which we have  already noticed  as
and impatience is generated, from  the tardi- characteristic of this performance.
ness and excessive caution with which the
story is carried forward.  In those constant   "The execution of the King, though a far less
attempts, too. to verify the particulars which  violent measure than that of Lord Strafford, is an
attempts, too, to verfy            event of so singular a nature, that we cannot
are narrated, a certain tone of debate is fre- wonder that it should have excited more sensation
quently assumed, which savours more of the  than any other in the annals of England. Thllis exorator than the historian; and though there  emplary act of substantial justice, as it has been
is nothing florid or rhetorical in the general called by some, of enormous wickedness by others,
cast of the diction, yet those argumentative  must be considered in two points of view. First,
was it not in itself just and necessary! Secondly,
-passages are evidently more akin to public  was the example of it likely to be salutary or perspeaking than to written composition.  Fre- nicious?  In regard to the first of these questions,
quent interrogations-short alternative propo- Mr. Hume, not perhaps intentionally, makes the
sitions-and an occasional mixture of familiar best justification of it, by saying, that while Charles
images and illustrations),-all denote a certain  lived, the projected Republic could never be secure.
habit of personal altercation, and of keen and  But to justify taking away the life of an individual.
animated contention.  Insteadn thereforen of  upon the principle of self-defence, the danger must
animated contention. Instead  thereforeo e,    bf nbot problematical and remote, but evident and
a work emulating the full and flowing nar- immediate.  The danger in this instance was not
rative of Livy or Herodotus, we find in Mr. of such a nature; anndthe imprisonment, or even
Fox's book rather a series of critical remarks banishment of Charles, might have given to the
on the narratives of preceding writers. min- republic such a degree of security as any govern
gled up with occasional details somewhat ment ought to be content with. It must be con.
fessed, however, on the other side, that if the remore copious and careful than the magnitude  publican government had suffered the King to
of the subjects seemed to require.  The his- escape, it would have been an act of justice and
tory, in short, is planned upon too broad a generosity  wholly  unexampled; and to have
scale, and the narrative too frequently inter- granted him even his life, would have been one
rupted by small controversies and petty inde- among the more rare efforts of virtue. The short
cisions.  We are aware that these objections interval between the deposal and death of princes
iSions. We are aware that these obections is become proverbial; and though there may be
may be owing in a good degree to the small- some few examples on the other side, as far as
ness of the fragment upon which we are un- life is concerned, I doubt whether a single infortunately obliged to hazard them; and that stance can be found, where liberty has been
the proportions which appear gigantic in this granted to a deposed monarch.  Among the
little relic, might ha~v  been no more than  modes of destroying persons in such a situation,
littlerel c, mih ethere can be little doubt but that adopted by
majestic in the finished work; but even after Cromwell and his adherents is the least dismaking allowance for this consideration, we  honourable.  Edward the Second, Richard the
cannot help thinking that the details are too  Second, Henry the Sixth, Edward the Fifth, had
minute, and the verifications too elaborate.    none of them long survived their deposal; but
The introductory chapter is full of admi- this was the first instance, in our history at least,
rable reasonings and just reflections.  It be- where, of such an act, it could be truly said, that
it "was not done in a corner.
gins with noticing, that there are certain    "As to the second question, whether the advanperiods in the history of every people, which  tage to be derived from the example was such as
are obviously big with important consequen- to justify an act of such violence, it appears to me
ces. andl exercise a visible and decisive in- to be a complete solution of it to observe, that with
fluence on the times that come after.  The  respect to England (and I know not upon what
leign  of Henry VII. is  on e o f t  hese, with re- ground we are to set examples for other nations,
reign of Henry VII. is one of these, with re-  or, in other words, to take the criminal justice of
lation to England;-another is that comprised  the world into our hands), it was wholly needless,
between 1588 and 1640; —and the most re- and therefore unjustifiable, to set one for kings, at
markable of all, is that which extends from  a time when it was intended the office of king
the last of these dates, to the death of Charles should be abolished, and consequently that no per.
son should be in the situation to make it the rule
I-the era of constitutional princples and  of his conduct.  Besides, the miseries attendant
practical tyranny-of the best laws, and the  upon a deposed monarch, seem to be sufficient to
most corrupt administration.  It is to the re- deter any prince, who thinks of consequences, from
view  of ihis period, that the introductory  running the risk of being placed in such a situachapter is dedicated.                          tion; or if death be the only evil that can deter
Mr. Fox approves of the first proceedings him, the fate of former tyrants deposed by their
of the Commons; but censures without re- subjects, would by no means encourage him  to
hope he could avoid even that catastrophe.  As
serve the unjustifiable form  of the proceed- far as we can judge from the event, the example
ings against Lord Strafford, whom he qualifies was certainly not very effectual; since both the
with the name of a great delinquent.  With  sons of Charles, though having their father's fate
regard to the causes of the civil war, the most before their eyes, yet feared not to violate the libdifficult question to determine is, whether the  erties of the people even more than he had at
tempted to do.
Parliament made sufficient efforts to avoid    "After all, however, notwithstanding what the
bringing affairs to such a decision. That they  more reasonable part of mankind may think upon




204                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
this question, it is much to be doubted whether represented them, as an expedient, admirably in.
this singular proceeding has not, as much as any  deed adapted to the real object of' upholding the
other circumstance, served to raise the character present king's power, by the defeat of the exclu.
of the English nation in the opinion of Europe in sion, but never likely to take effect for their pregeneral. Hie who has read, and still more he who  tended purpose of controuling that of his successor;
has heard in conversation, discussions upon this and supported them for that very reason. But such
subject, by foreigners, must have perceived, that, a principle of conduct was too fraudulent to be
even in the minds of those who condemn the act, avowed; nor ought it perhaps, in candour, to be
the impression made by it has been far more that imputed to the majority of the party. To those
of respect and admiration, than that of disgust and  who acted with good faith, and meant that the rehorror. The truth is, that the guilt of the action, strictions should really take place, and be effectual,
that is to say, the taking away the life of the surely it ought to have occurred (and to those who
King, is what most men in the place of Cromwell most prized the prerogatives of the crown, it ought
and his associates would have incurred.  What most forcibly to have occurred), that, in consenting
there is of splendour and of magnanimity in it, I to curtail the powers of the crown, rather than to
mean the publicity and solemnity of the act, is alter the succession, they were adopting the greater,
what few would be capable of displaying.  It is a in order to avoid the lesser evil. The question of,
degrading fact to human nature, that even the what are to be the powers of the crown? is surely
sending away of the Duke of Gloucester was an of superior importance to that of, who shall wear it?
instance of generosity almost unexampled in the  Those, at least, who consider the royal prerogative
history of transactions of this nature." —pp. 13-17. as vested in the king, not for his own sake, but for
Under the Protector of whom  he speaks that of his subjects, must consider the one of these
questions as much above the other in dignity, as
with singular candour, the government was the rights of the public are more valuable than those
absolute-and  on his death, fell wholly into  of an individual. In this view, the prerogatives of
the hands of the army. He speaks with con- the crown are in substance and effect the rights of
temlpt and severe censure of Monk for the  the people: and these rights of the people were not to
precipitate and unconditional submission into     sacriced to the purpose of preserving the
which he hurried the country at the Restora- sion to the most favoured prince, much less to one
*:vhich he hu rried the country at the Restors- who, on account of' his religious persuasion, was
tion; and makes the following candid reflec- justly feared and suspected. In truth, the question on the subsequent punishment of the  tion between the exclusion and restrictions seems
regicides.                                      peculiarly calculated to ascertain the different views
in which the different parties in this country have
" With respect to the execution of those who seen, and perhaps ever will see, the prerogatives
were accused of having been more immediately con- of the crown. The Whigs, who consider them as
cerned in the King's death, that of Scrope, who a trust for the people, a doctrine which the Tories
had come in upon the proclamation, and of the themselves, when pushed in argument, will somemilitary officers who had attended the trial, was a times admit, naturally think it their duty rather to
violation of every principle of law and justice. But change the manager of the trust, than to impair the
the fate of the others, though highly dlshonourable  subject of' it; while others, who consider them as
to Monk, whose whole power had arisen from his the right or property of the king, will as naturally
zeal in their service, and the favour and confidence act as they would do in the case of any other prop.
with which they had rewarded him, and not per- erty, and consent to the loss or annihilation of any
haps very creditable to the nation, of which many  part of it, for the purpose of preserving the remainhad applauded, more had supported, and almost all der to him, whom they style the rightful owner.
had acquiesced in the act, is not certainly to be im. If the people be the sovereign, and the king the
puted as a crime to the King, or to those of his ad- delegate, it is better to change the bailiff than to
visers who were of the Cavalier party. The pas- injure the farm; but if the king be the proprietor,
sinii of revenge, though properly condemned both  it is better the farm should be impaired, nay, part
by philosophy and religion, yet when it is excited  of it destroyed, than that the whole should pass
by;njurious treatment of persons justly dear to us, over to an usurper. The royal prerogative ought,
is among the most excusable of human frailties; and according to the Whigs (not in the case of a Popish
if Charles, in his general conduct, had shown successor only, but in all cases), to be reduced to
stronger feelings df gratitude for services performed  such powers as are in their exercise beneficial to
to his father, his character, in the eyes of many, the people; and of the benefit of these they will not
would be rather raised than lowered by this example  rashly suffer the people to be deprived, whether
of severity against the regicides."-pp. 22, 23.  the executive power be in the hands of an herediThle mean and unprincipled submission of tary, or of an elected king; of a regent, or of any
Charles to Louis XIV., and the profligate pre- other denomination of magistrate; while, on the
other hand, they who consider prerogative with
tences upon which he was-perpetually solicit- reference only to royalty, will, with equal readiillg an increase of his disgraceful stipend, are  ness, consent either to the extension or the susmentioned with becoming reprobation.  The  pension of' its exercise, as the occasional interests
delusion of the Popish plot is noticed at some  of the prince may seem to require."-pp. 37-39.
length; and some admirable remarks are introduced with reference to the debates on the Of the reality of any design to assassinate
expediency of passing a bill for excluding the  the King, by those engaged in what wlas called
Duke of York from the Crown, or of imposing  the Rye-House Plot, Mr. Fox appears to encertain restrictions on him in the event of his tertain considerable doubt, partly on account
succession.  The following observations are  of the implobability of many of the circumdistinguished for their soundness, as well as stances, and partly on account of the uniform
their acuteness; and are applicable, in prin-and resolute denial of Rumbold, the chief ot
ciple, to every period of our history in which    at party, in circumstances when he had no
it can be necessary to recur to the true prin- conceivable inducement to disguise the truth
ciples of the conlstitution.             prn  Of the condemnation of Russell arid Sydney,
It is not easy to conceive upon what principles he speaks with the indignation which must
even the Tories could justify their support of the  elt by all reds  to liberty at the recolrestrictions. Many among them, no doubt, saw lection of that disgraceful proceeding. The
the trovisions in the same light in which the Whigs following passage is one of the most eloquent




FOX'S REIGN OF JAMES THE SECOND.                                 203
and one of the most characteristic in the whole quis of Halifax, for having given an opinion
volume.                                        in council that the North American colonies
"Upon evidence such as has been stated, was should be made participant in the benefits of
this great and excellent man (Svdney) condemned  the English constitution, gives occasion to the
to die.  Pardon was not to be expected.  Mr. following natural reflection.
Hume says, that such an interference on the part   There is something curious in discovering,
of the King, though it might have been an act of               thii
heroic generosity, could notbe regarded as an in- that, even at this early period, a question relative
heroic generosity, could not be regarded as an indispensable duty. He might have said, with more to North A merican taxation, was considered even   to Nort
propriety, that it was idle to expect that the govern- principles friendly or adverse, to arbitary poer at
ment, after having incurred so much guilt in order home. p lBut the truth is, that among the several
to obtain the sentence, should, by remitting it, re- controversies which have arisen, there is no other
linquish the object just when it is within its grasp. wherein the natural rights of man on the one hand,
The same historian considers the jury as highly and the authoural rity of artificial institution on the other,
blameable: and so do I; But what was their guilt, as applied respectively, by the Whigs and Tortes,
in        of the gornmen t who prosecute d, i n this infamous to the English constitution, are so fairly put in issue,
of the. government who prosecuted, in this infamous
nor by which the line of separation between  the
cause? Yet the jury, being the only party that nor by which the line of separation between the
can with any coloury, being the oly as acting independparty that two parties is so strongly and distinctly marked."
can with any colour be stated as acting independ-    60
ently of the government, is the only one mentioned
by him as blameable. The prosecutor is wholly    The introductory chapter is closed by the
omitted in his censure, and so is the court; this following profound and important remarks,
last, not from any tenderness for the judge (who, which may in
to do this author justice, is no favourite with him),                   as a key to the whole
but lest the odious connection between that branch transactions of the ensuing reign.
of the judicature and the government should strike    " Whoever reviews the interesting period which
the reader too forcibly: For Jefferies, in this in- we have been discussing, upon the principle recomstance, ought to be regarded as the mere tool and mended in the outset of this chapter, will find, that,
instrument (a fit one, no doubt) of the prince who from the consideration of the past, to prognosticate
had appointed him for the purpose of this and simi- the future, would, at the moment of Charles' delar services. Lastly, the King is gravely intro- mise, be no easy task. Between two persons, one
duced on the question of pardon, as if he had had of whom should expect that the country would reno prior concern in the cause, and were now to main sunk in slavery, the other, that the cause of
decide upon the propriety of extending mercy to a freedom would revive and triumph, it would be
criminal condemned by a court of judicature! difficult to decide, whose reasons were better supNor are we once reminded what that judicature ported, whose speculations the more probable. I
was,-by whom appointed, by whom influenced, should guess that he who desponded, had looked
by whom  called upon to receive that detestable more at the state of the public; while he who was
evidence, the very recollection of which, even at sanguine, had fixed his eyes more aX entively upon
this distance of time, fires every honest heart with  the person who was about to mount the throne.
indignation. As well might we palliate the mur- Upon reviewing the two great parties of the nation,
ders of Tiberius; who seldom put to death his vic- one observation occurs very forcibly, and that is,
tims without a previous decree of his senate. The that the great strength of the Whigs consisted in
moral of all this seems to be, that whenever a their being able to brand their adversaries as favourprince can, by intimidation, corruption, illegal evi- ers of Popery; that of the Tories (as far as their
dence, or other such means, obtain a verdict against strength depended upon opinion. and not merely
a subject whom he dislikes, he may cause him to upon the power of the crown), in their finding colbe executed without any breach of indispensable our to represent the Whigs as republicans. From
duty; nay, that it is an act of heroic generosity, if he this observation we may draw a further inference,
spares him. I never reflect on Mr. Hume's state- that, in proportion to the rashness of the crown, in
ment of this matter but with the deepest regret. avowing and pressing forward the cause of Popery,
Widely as I differ from him upon many other occa- and to the moderation and steadiness of the Whigs,
sions, this appears to me to be the most reprehen- in adhering to the form of monarchy, would be the
sible passage of his whole work. A spirit of adu- chance of the people of England, for changing an
lation towards deceased princes, though in a good ignominious despotism for glory, liberty, and hap
measure free from  the imputation of interested  piness."-pp. 66, 67.
meanness, which is justly attached to flattery, when
applied to living monarchs; yet, as it is less intel-   James was Known to have had so large a!igible with respect to its motives than the other, so share in the councils of his brother, that no
is it in its consequences still more pernicious to the one expected any material change of system
general interests of mankind. Fear of censure from  his accession.  The Church, indeed, it
from contemporaries will seldom have much effect was feared might be less safe under a proupon man in situations of unlimited authority. was feared might be less safe under a proThe!r wi.m too often flatter themselves, that the fessed Catholic; and the severity of his temsatn  pf)wer which enables them to commit the per might inspire some dread of an aggravated
crine, will secure them from reproach. The dread  oppression.  It seems to be Mr. Fox's great
of posthumous infamy, therefore, being the only object, in this first chapter, to prove that the
restraint, their consciences excepted, upon the pas- object of his early policy was, not to establish
sions of such persons, it is lamentable that this last the Catholic religion, but to make himself
defence (feeble enough at best), should in any degree be impaired; and impaired it must be, if not absolute and independent of his Parliament.
totally destroyed, when tyrants can hope to find in    The fact itself he conceives, is completely
a man like Hume, no less eminent for the integrity  established by the manner in which his seand benevolence of his heart, than for the depth cret negotiations with France were carried
and soundness of his understanding, an apologist on; in the whole of which, he was zealously
for even their foulest murders."-pp. 48-50.    served by ministers, no one of whom had the
The uncontrouled tyranny of Charles' ad- slightest leaning towards Popery, or could
ministration in his latter days, is depicted with  ever be brought to countenance the measures
much force and fidelity; and the clamour which he afterwards pursued in its favour.
raised by his other ministers against the Mar- It is made still more evident by the complexior




206                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
of his proceedings in Scotland; where the very reverse is the fact. But, in one case, they
test, which he enforced at the point of the  were the tools of a king plotting against his people;
bayonet, was a Protestant test,-so much so  in the other, the ministers of a free government
indeed; that he himself could not take it, —and  acting upon enlarged principles, and with energies
indeed.that obec him erselfcouto nt tke ites f m   which no state that is not in some degree republican
the objects of his persecution, dissenters from  can supply. How forcibly must the contemplation
the Protestant church of England.  We con- of these men in such opposite situations teach persons
sider this point therefore-and it is one of no  engaged in political life, that a free and popular govsmall importance in the history of this peripd  ernment is desirable, not only for the public good,
- as now sufficiently established.             but for their own greatness and consideration, for
every object of generous ambition."-pp. 88, 89.
It does not seem necessary to follow the
author into the detail of that sordid and de-   As James, in the outset of his reign, prograding connexion which James was so anxi- fessed a resolution to adhere to the system of
ous to  establish, by  becoming, like  his government established by his brother, and
brother, the pensioner of the French mon- made this declaration in the first place, to his
arch. The bitter and dignified contempt with  Scottish Parliament, Mr. Fox thinks it neceswhich it is treated by Mr. Fox, may be sary to take a slight retrospective view of the
guessed at from the following account of the proceedings of Charles towards that unhappy
first remittance.                              country; and details, from unquestionable authorities, such a scene of intolerant oppression
"Within a very few days from that in which the and atrocious cruelty, as to justify him in
latter of them had passed, he (the French ambassador).was empowered to accompany the delivery of saying, that the state of that kingdom  was
a letter from his master, with the agreeable news "a state of more absolute slavery than at
of having received from him bills of exchange to the that time subsisted in any part of- Christamount of five hundred thousand livres, to be used endom."
in whatever manner might be convenient to the    In both Parliaments  the King's revenue
King of England's service. The account whichs reve
Barillon gives of the manner in which this sum was was granted for life, In terms of his demand,
received, is altogether ridiculous: the King's eyes without discussion or hesitation; and  Mr.
were full of tears! and three of his ministers, Ro- Hume is censured with severity, and appachester, Sunderland, and Godolphin, came seve- rently with justice, for having presented his
rally to the French ambassador, to express the readers with a summary of the arguments
sense their master had of the obligation, in terms which he would have them  believe were
the most lavish. Indeed, demonstrations of grati- actually used in the House of Com
tude from the King directly, as well as through his     used in the House of Commons on
ministers, for this supply, were such as, if they had both sides of this question.  " This misreprebeen used by some unfortunate individual, who, sentation,",Mr. Fox observes, "is of no small
with his whole family, had been saved, by the importance, inasmuch as, by intimating that
timely succour of some kind and powerful protector, such a question could be debated at all, and
from a gaol and all its horrors, would be deemed  much more that it was debated with the enrather too strong than too weak. Barillon himself
seems surprised when he relates them; but imputes lightened views and bold topics of argument
them to what was probably their real cause, to the with which his genius has supplied him, he
apprehensions that had been entertained (very un- gives us a very false notion of the character
reasonable ones!), that the King of France might of the Parliament and of the times which he
no longer choose to interfere in the affairs of Eng- is describing.  It is not improbable, that if
land, and, consequently, that his support could not the arguments had been used which this hisbe relied on for the grand object of assimilating this
government to his own."-pp. 83, 84.            torian supposes, the utterer of them  would
er t tohis, Lor      have been expelled, or sent to the Tower; and
After this, Lord Churchill is sent to Paris it is certain that he would not have been
vn the part of the triblutary Kingr.           heard with any degree of attention, or even
"How little could Barillon guess, that he was patience." —p. 142.
negotiating with one who was destined to be at the    The last chapter is more occupied with narhead of an administration which, in a few years, rative, and less with argument and reflection,
would send the same Lord Churchill, not to Paris than t   which precedes it.  It contains the
to implore Lewis for succours towards enslaving      hat
England, or to thank him for pensions to her mon- story of the unfortunate and desperate expearch, but to combine all Europe against him in the ditions of Argyle and Monmouth, and of the
cause of liberty! to route his armies, to take his condemnation and death of their unhappy
towns, to humble his pride, and to shake to the leaders.  Mr. Fox, though convinced that the
foundation that fabric of power which it had been misgovernment was such as fully to justify
the business of a long life to raise, at the expense resistance by arms, seems to admit that both
of every sentiment of tenderness to his subjects, resistance  by arms, seems to admit that both
and ofjustice and good faith to foreign nations! It those enterprises were rash and injudicious.
is with difficulty the reader can persuade himself With his usual candour and openness, he obthat the Godolphin and Churchill here mentioned, serves, that "the prudential reasons against
are the same persons who were afterwards, one in resistance at that time were exceedingly
the cabinet, one in the field, the great conductors
of the war of the Succession. How little do they strong; and that there is no point, indeed, in
appear in the one instance! how great in the other! human concerns, wherein  the  dictates of
And the investigation of the cause to which this ex- virtue and of worldly prudence are so identicessive difference is principally owing, will produce fied, as in this great question of resistance by
a most useful lesson. Is the difference to be at- force to established governments."
tributed to any superiority of genius in the prince    The expeditions of Monmouth and Argyle
whom they served in the latter period of their lives? had been concerted to
Queen Anne's capacity appears to have been in-        een concerted togethe  and were inferior even to her father's. Did they enjoy, in a tended to take efect at the same moment.
greater degree, her favour and confidence?  The Monmouth, however, who was reluctantly




FOX'S REIGN OF JAMES THE SECOND.                                  20"
forced upon the enterprise, was not so soon  The name of the person to whom this anecdote reready; and Argyle landed in the Highlands lates is not mentioned; and the truth of it may
with a very small force before the Duke had  therefore be fairly considered as liable to that degree
sailed from Hollandl. The details of his ir- of doubt with which men of judgment receive
every species of traditional history. Woodrow,
resolute councils and ineffectual marches, are  however, whose veracity is above suspicion, says
given at far too great length.  Though they  he had it from the most unquestionable authority.
give occasion to one profound and important It is not in itself unlikely; and who is there that
remark, which we do not recollect ever to  would not wish it true?  What a satisfactory spec.
fhave met with before; but, of the justice of tacle to a philosophical mind, to see the oppressor,
in the zenith of his power, envying his victim!
which, most of those who have acted with iWhat an acknowledgment of the superiority of virparties must have had melancholy and fatal tue! What an affecting and forcible testimony to
experience.  It is introduced when speaking  the value of that peace of mind, which innocence
of the disunion that prevailed among Argyle's alone can confer! We know not who this man was;
little band of followers,                      but when we reflect, that the guilt which agonized
him was probably incurred for the sake of some
"Add to all this," he says, "that where spirit vain title, or at least of some increase of wealth,
was not wanting, it was accompanied with a degree which he did not want, and possibly knew not how
and species of perversity wholly inexplicable, and to enjoy, our disgust is turned into something like
which can hardly gain belief from any one whose compassion for that very foolish class of men, whom
experience has not made him acquainted with the the world calls wise in their generation."
extreme difficulty of persuading men, who pride                                pp. 207-209.
themselves upon an extravagant love of liberty,   " On the scaffold he embraced his friends, gave
rather to compromise upon some points with those some tokens of remembrance to his son-in-law,
who have, in the main, the same views with them- Lord Maitland, for his daughter and grandchildren;
selves, than to give power (a power which will in- stript himself of part of his apparel, of which he
fallibly be used for their own destruction) to an likewise made presents; and laid his head upon the
adversary, of principles diametrically opposite; in block. Having uttered a short prayer, he gave the
other words, rather to concede something to a signal to the executioner; which was instantly
friend, than every thing to an enemy."-pp. 187,188. obeyed, and his head severed from his body. Such
were the last hours, and such the final close, of this
The account of Argylets deportment from  great man's life. May the like happy serenity in
the time of his capture to that of his exe- such dreadful circumstances, and a death equally
cution, is among the most striking passages in  glorious, be the lot of all, whom tyranny, of whatthe book; and the mildness and magnanimity  ever denomination or description, shall in any age,
of his resign~ation, is d~escribed  with kindred  or in any country, call to expiate their virtues on
feelings by his generous historian. The merits the scaffold!"-p. 211.
of this nobleman are perhaps somewhat ex-    Rumbold, who had accompanied Argyle in
aggerated; for he certainly wanted conduct this expedition, speedily shared  his fate.
and decision for the part he had undertaken; Though a man of intrepid courage. and fully
and more admiration is expressed at the eq#l- aware of the fate that awaited him, he persistnimity with which he went to death, than the  ed to his last hour in professing his innocence
tecent frequency of this species of heroism  of any design to assassinate King Charles at
can allow  us to sympathize with: But the  the Ryehouse.  Mr. Fox gives great importstory is finely and feelingly told; and the im- ance to this circumstance; and seems disposed
pression which it leaves on the mind of the  to conclude, on the. faith of it, that the Ryereader is equally favourable to the author and  house plot itself was altogether a fabrication
to the hero of it.  We can only make room  of the court party, to transfer to their adverfor the concluding scene of the tragedy.       saries the odium which had been thrown upon
"Before he left the castle he had his dinner at them with as little justice, by the prosecutions
the usual hour, at which he discoursed not only  for the Popish plot.  It does not appear to us,
calmly, but even cheerfully, with Mr. Charteris and however, that this conclusion is made out in a
others. After dinner he retired, as was his custom, manner altogether satisfactory.
to his bed-chamber, where, it is recorded, that he    The expedition of Monmouth is detailed
slept quietly for about a quarter of an hour. While with as redundant a fulness as that of Ayle;
he was in bed, one of the members of the council with as redundant a fulness as that of Aigyle;
came and intimated to the attendants a desire to and the character of its leader still more overspeak with him: upon being told that the earl was rated.  Though Mr. Fox has a laudable jealasleep, and had left orders not to be disturbed, the ousy of kings, indeed, we are afraid he has
manager disbelieved the account, which he consid- rather a partialityfor nobles. Monmouth apered as a device to avoid further questionings. To  pears to have been an idle, handsome, presatisfy him, the door of the bed-chamber was half
opened, and he then beheld, enjoying a sweet and sumptuous, incapable youth, with none of the
tranquil slumber, the man who, by the doom of virtues of a patriot, and none of the talents
him and his fellows, was to die within the space of of an usurper; and we really cannot discover
two short hours! Struck with the sight, he hurried upon what grounds Mr. Fox would exalt him
out of the room, quitted the castle with the utmost into a hero. He was in arms, indeed, agains
precipitation, and hid himself in the lodgings of an a tyrant  and that tyrant though nearly conacquaintance who lived near, where he flung him-   tyrant; and that tyrant, though nearly conself upon the first bed that presented itself, and had nected with him  by the ties of blood, senevery appearance of a man suffering the most ex- tenced him with unrelenting cruelty to death.
cruciating torture. His friend, who had been ap- He was plunged at once from  the heights of
prized by the servant of the state he was in. and fortune, of youthful pleasure, and of ambition1
who naturally concluded that he was ill, offered                                   existence
him some wine. He refused, saying,'No, no, that to die disgracefully after havin  stooped to
will not help me: I have been in at Argyle, and to die disgracefully after having stooped to
saw him sleeping as pleasantly as ever man did, ask his life by abject submission! Mr. Fox
within an hour of eternity! But as for me' dwells a great deal too long, we think, both




208                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
upon his wavering and unskilful movements him; and one of them took that opportunity of in
before his defeat, and on some ambiguous forming him, that their controversial altercationa
words in the letter which he afterwards iwrote  were not yet at an end; and that upon the scaffold,
to King James; but the natural tenderness of he would again be pressed for more explicit and
_-to King James; but thenatual tedernestus in  satisfactory declarations of repentance. When ar.
his disposition enables him  to interest us in  rived at the bar, which had been put up for the pur.
the description of his after sufferings.  The  pose of keeping out the multitude, Monmoutll
following extract, we think, is quite charac- descended from  the carriage, and mounted the
teristic of the author.                        scaffold with a firm step, attended by his spiritual
assistants. The sheriffs and executioners were al"In the mean while, the Queen Dowager, who ready there. The concourse of spectators was inseems to have behaved with a uniformity of kind- numerable, and, if we are to credit traditional
ness towards her husband's son that does her areat accounts, never was the general compassion more
nonour, urgently pressed the King to admit his affectingly expressed. The tears, sighs, and groans,
nephew to an audience. Importuned therefore by  which the first sight of this heart-rending spectacle
entreaties, and instigated by the curiosity which  produced, were soon succeeded by an universal and
Monmouth's mysterious expressions, and Sheldon's awful silence; a respectful attention, and affectionstory had excited, he consented, though with a ate anxiety, to hear every syllable that should pass
fixed determination to show no mercy. James was the lips of the sufferer. The Duke began by saying
not of the number of those, in whom the want of he should speak little; he came to die; and he
an extensive understanding is compensated by a should die a Protestant of the Church of England.
delicacy of sentiment, or by those right feelings Here he was interrupted by the assistants, and
which are often found to be better guitles for the told, that if he was of the Church of England, he
conduct, than the most accurate reasoning. His must acknowledge the doctrine of Non-resistance
nature did not revolt, his blood did not run cold, at to be true. In vain did he reply, that, if he acthe thoughts of beholding the son of a brother whom  knowledged the doctrine of the church in general,
he had loved, embracing his knees, petitioning, and it included all: they insisted he should own that
petitioning in vain, fbr life!-of interchanging words doctrine particularly with respect to his case, and
and looks with a nephew on whom he was inex- urged much more concerning their favourite point;
orably determined, within forty-eight hours, to in- upon which, however, they obtained nothing but a
flict an ignominious death.                    repetition, in substance, of former answers.
" In Macpherson's extract from  King James'                                  pp. 265w 266.
Memoirs, it is confessed that the King ought not to
have seen, if he was not disposed to pardon the    After making a public profession of his atculprit; but whether the observation is made by the tachment to his beloved Lady Harriet Wentexiled prince himself, or by him who gives the ex- worth, and his persuasion that their connection
tract, is in this, as in many other passages of' those was innocent in the sight of God, he made
Memoirs, difficult to determine. Surely, if the King  reference to a paper he had signed in the
had made this reflection before Monmouth's execution, it must have occurred to that monarch, that morning, confessing the illegitimacy of his
if he had inadvertently done that which he ought birth, and declaring that the title of King had
not to have done without an intention to pardon, been forced on him  by his followers, much
the only remedy was to correct that part of his against his own inclination.
conduct which was still in his power; and since he
could not recall the interview, to grant the pardon."    "The bishop, however, said, that there was
pp. 258, 259.    nothing in that paper about resistance; nor, though
Monmouth, quite worn out with their importuniBeing sentenced to die in two days, he made  ties, said to one of them in a most affecting manner,
a humble application to the King for some'I am  to die!-pray my lord!-I refer to my
little respite; but met with a positive and  paper,' would these men think it consistent with
stern refusal.  The most remarkable thing in  their duty to desist. There were only a few words
the history of his last hours, is the persecution  they desired on one point. The substance of these
which he suffered from the bishops who had  applications on one hand, and answers on the other,
was repeated, over and over again, in a manner
been sent to comfort him.  Those reverend  that could not be believed, if the facts were not at.
persons, it appears, spent the greater part of tested by the signature of the persons principally
the time in urging him to profess the orthodox  concerned. If the Duke, in declaring his sorrow
doctrines of passive obedience and non-resist- for what had pased, used the word invasion,' give
ance; without which, they said, he could not it the true name,' said they,'and call it rebellion.'
ance; without which, they said' he      could not, What name you please,' replied the mild-tempered
be an upright member of the church, nor at- Monmouth! He was sure he was going to everlasttain to a proper state of repentance! It must ing happiness, and considered the serenity of his
never be forgotten, indeed, as Mr. Fox has mind, in his present circumstances, as a certain
remarked, if we would understand the history  earnest of the favour of his Creator. His repentof this periods, " that the orthodox members ance, he said, must be true, for he had no fear of'
of the church regarded monarchy, not as a  dying; he should die like a lamb!' Much may come
of the church regarded monarchy, not as a from natural courage,' was the unfeeling and sttpia
human, but as a divine institution; and pas- reply of one of the assistants. Monmouth, with
sive obedience and non-resistance, not as po- that modesty inseparable from true bravery, denied
litical measures, but as articles of religion."   that he was in general less fearful than other men,
The following account of the dying scene  maintaining that his present courage was owing to
of this misguided and unhappy youth, is very  his consciousness that God had forgiven him his
striking and pathetic; though a certain tone past transgressions, of all which generally he repented, with all his sotl.
of sarcasm  towards the reverend assistants    "At last the reverend assistants consented to
does not, to our feelings, harmonize entirely  join with him in prayer; but no sooner were they
with the more tender traits of the picture.    risen from their kneeling posture, than they returned to their charge. Not satisfied with what
"At ten o'clock on the 15th. Monmouth pro- had passed, they exhorted him to a true and thorouriA
ceeded, in a carriage of the Lieutenant of the repentance. Would he not pray for the King? and
Tower, to Tower Hill, the place destined for his send a dutiful message to his majesty, to recomexecution. Two bishops were in the carriage with  mend the duchess and his children' As you




FOX'S REIGN OF JAMES THE SECOND.                                209
please,' was the reply,'I pray for him and for all variety of words and phrases rather more
imen.' He now spoke to the executioner, desiring homely and familiar than should find place
that he might have no cap over his eyes, and began in a grave composition. Thus it is said in
undressing. One would have thought that in this
last sad ceremony, the poor prisoner might have p. 12, that " the King made no point of adherbeen unmolested, and that the divines would have ing to his concessions."  In p. 20, we heat
been satisfied, that prayer was the only part of their of men, C swearing away the lives " of their
function for which their duty now called upon them. accomplices; and are afterwards told of " the
They judged differently; and one of them had the style of thinking  of the country-of lI the cry.
fortitude to request the Duke, even in this stage of        of certain proceedings-and of
the business, that he would address himself to the ing injustice  of certain proceedings-and of
soldiers then present, to tell them he stood a sad persons who were "fond of ill-treating and
example of rebellion, and entreat the people to insulting" other persons.  These, we think,
be loyal and obedient to the King.' I have said I are phrases too colloquial for regular history,
will make no speeches,' repeated Monmouth, in a and which the author has probably been intone more peremptory than he had before been duced to admit into this composition, from his
provoked to;'I will make no speeches! I come
to die.''My lord, ten words will be enough,' long familiarity with spoken, rather than with
said the persevering divine; to which the Duke written language.  What is merely lively and
made *no answer, but turning to the executioner, natural in a speech, however. will often apexpressed a hope that he would do his work better pear low and vapid in writing. The following
now than in the case of Lord Russell. He then is a still more striking illustration.  In speakfelt the axe, which he apprehended was not sharp ing of the Oxford Decree, which declared the
enough, but being assured that it was of proper   ine      original contract, thdeclar ed the
sharpness and weight, he laid down his head. In doctrine of an original contract, the lawfulness
the mean time, many fervent ejaculations were of changing the succession, &c. to be impious
used by the reverend assistants, who, it must be as well as seditious, and leading to atheism as
observed, even in these moments of horror, showed well as rebellion, Mr. Fox is pleased to obthemselves not unmindful of the points upon which serve"cc If Much Ado about Nothing had
they had been disputing; praying God to accept his been published in those days, the town-clerk's
imperfect and general repentance.
" The executioner now struck the blow; but so declaration, that receiving a thousand ducats
feebly or unskillfully, that Monmouth, being but for accusing the Lady Hero wrongfully, was
slightly wounded, lifted up his head, and looked  "flat burglary," might be supposed to be a
him in the face as if to upbraid him; but said noth-. satire uponthis decree; yet Shakespeare,
ing. The two following strokes were as ineffectual well as he knew human nature, not only as
as the first, and the headsman, in a fit of horror,
declared he could notfinish his work. The sheriffs to its general course, but in all its eccentric
threatened him; he was forced again to make a deviations, could never dream  that, in the
further trial; and in two more strokes separated person of Dogberry, Verges, and their followthe head from the body."-pp. 267-269.        ers, he was representing the vice-chancellors
With the  character of Monmouth, the and doctors of our learned University."  It
second chapter of the history closes; and would require all the credit of a well-estabnothing seems to have been written for the lished speaker, to have passed this comparithird, but a few detached observations, oc- son, with any success upon the House of
cupying but two pages. The Appendix is Commons; but even the high name of Mr.
rather longer than  was necessary.  The Fox, we believe, will be insufficient to congreater part of the diplomacy which it con- ceal its impropriety in a serious passage of
tains, had  been  previously published  by a history, written in imitation of Livy and
Macpherson and Dalrymple; and the other Thucydides.
articles are of little importance.              Occupied, indeed, as we conceive all the
We have now only to add a few words as readers of Mr. Fox ought to be with the sento the style and taste of composition which timents and the facts which he lays before
belongs to this work. We cannot say that them, we should scarcely have thought of
we vehemently admire it. It is a diffuse, noticing those verbal blemishes at all, had
and somewhat heavy style,-clear and man- we not read so much in the preface, of the
ly indeed, for the most part, but sometimes fastidious diligence with which the diction
deficient in force, and almost always in vi- of this work was purified, and its style elabovacity. In its general structure, it resembles rated by the author.  To this praise we canthe style of the age of which it treats, more not say we think it entitled; but, to praise of
than the balanced periods of the succeeding a far higher description. its claim, we think,
century —though the diction is scrupulously is indisputable.  Independent of its singular
purified from the long and Latin words which value as a memorial of the virtues and talents
defaced the compositions of Milton and Har- of the great statesman whose name it bears
rington. In his antipathy to every thing that we have no hesitation in saying, that it is
might be supposed to look like pedantry or written more truly in the spirit of constituaffected loftiness, it appears to us, indeed, tional freedom, and of temperate and practical
that the  illustrious author has sometimes patriotism, than any history of which the
fallen into an opposite error, and admitted a public is yet in possession.
14




210                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
(~ZLprits 1tSo.)
Mimoires daun Temoin de la Revolution; ou Journal des faits qui se sont passe sous ses yeux, d
qui ont prepare et fixi la Constitution Franpaise. Ouvrage Posthume de JEAN SYLVAIN
BAILLY, Premier Pr6sident de l'Assemblee Nationale Constituant, Premier Maire de Paris,
et Membre des Trois Academies. 8vo. 3 tomes. Paris: 1804.*
AMONG the many evils which the French characters of those who were connected with
Revolution has inflicted on mankind, the most those memorable occurrences. The tide of
deplorable, perhaps, both in point of extent popular favour, which ran at one time with a
and of probable duration. consists in the in- dangerous and headlong violence to the side
jury which it has done to the cause of rational of innovation and political experiment, has
freedom, and the discredit in which it has in- now set, perhaps too strongly, in an opposite
volved the principles of political philosophy. direction; and the same misguiding passions
The warnings which may be derived from  that placed factious and selfish men on a
the misfortunes of that country, and the les- level with patriots and heroes, has now
sons which may still be read in the tragical ranked the blameless and the enlightened in
consequences of her temerity, are memorable  the herd of murderers and madmen.
no doubt, and important: But they are such   There are two classes of men, in particular,
as are presented to us by the history of every to whom it appears to us that the Revolution
period of the world; and the emotions by has thus done injustice; and who have been.which they have been impressed, are in this made to share in some measure the infamy
case too violent to let their import and appli- of its most detestable agents, in consequence
cation be properly distinguished. From the of venial errors, and in spite of extraordinary
miscarriage of a scheme of frantic innovation, merits. There are none indeed who made a
we have conceived an unreasonable and un- figure in its more advanced stages, that may
discriminating dread of all alteration or re- not be left, without any great breach of charity,
form. The bad success of an attempt to make to the vengeance of public opinion: and both
government perfect, has reconciled us to im- the descriptions of persons to whom we have
perfections that might easily be removed; and alluded only existed, accordingly, at the period
the miserable consequences of treating every of its commencement. These were the phithing as prejudice and injustice, which could losophers or speculative men who inculcated
not be reconciled' to a system of fantastic a love of liberty and a desire of reform by
equality, has given strength to prejudices, their writings and conversation; and the virand sanction to abuses, which were gradually tuous and moderate, who attempted to act
wearing away before the progress of reason upon these principles at the outset of the
and philosophy. The French Revolution, in Revolution, and countenanced or suggested
short, has thrown us back half a century in those measures by which the ancient frame
the course of political improvement; and of the government was eventually dissolved.
driven many among us to cling once more, To confound either of these classes of men
with superstitious terror, to those idols from  with the monsters by whom they were sucwhich we had been nearly reclaimed by the ceeded, it would be necessary to forget that
lessons of a milder philosophy. When we they were in reality their most strenuous oplook round on the wreck and ruin which the ponents-and their earliest victims! If they
whirlwind has scattered over the prospect were instrumental in conjuring up the tembefore us, we tremble at the rising gale, and pest, we may at least presume that their coshrink even from the wholesome air that stirs operation was granted in ignorance, since
the fig-leaf on our porch. Terrified and dis- they were the first to fall before it; and can
gusted with the brawls and midnight murders scarcely be supposed to have either foreseen
which proceed from intoxication, we are al- or intended those consequences in which
most inclined to deny ourselves the pleasures their own ruin was so inevitably involved.
of a generous hospitality; and scarcely venture That they are chargeable with imprudence
to diffuse the comforts of light or of warmth and with presumption, may be affirmed, per,
in our dwellings, when we turn our eyes on haps, without fear of contradiction; though,
the devastation which the flames have com- with regard to many of them, it would be no
mitted around us.                        easy task, perhaps, to point out by what conThe same circumstances which have thus duct they could have avoided such an impuled us to confound what is salutary with tation; and this charge, it is manifest, ought
what is pernicious in our establishments, at any rate to be kept carefully separate from
ltave also perverted our judgments as to the that of guilt or atrocity. Benevolent inten
tions, though alloyed by vanity, and mis*I have been tempted to let this be reprinted guided by ignorance, can never become the
(though sensible enough of vices in the style) to objects of the highest moralreprobation; and
show at how early a period those views of the objects  f the highest moral reprobation; and
character of the French Revolution, and its first enthusiasm itself, though it does the work of
effects on other countries, were adopted-which the demons, ought still to be distinguished from
have not since received much modification.  treachery or malice.  The knightly adven.




BAILLY'S MEMOIRS.                                211
tirer, who broke the chains of the galley- tion to the schemes of the sourt, the clergy
slaves, purely that they might enjoy their de- and the nobility, appears to us to have been
liverance from bondage, will always be re- as impolitic with a view to their ultimate
garded with other feelings than the robber success. as it was suspicious perhaps as to
who freed them  to recruit the ranks of his their immediate motives. The parade which
banditti.                                 they made of their popularity; the support
We have examined in a former article the which they submitted to receive from  the
extent of the participation which can be fairly menaces and acclamations of the mob; the
imputed to the philosophers, in the crimes and joy which they testified at the desertion of
miseries of the Revolution, and endeavoured the royal armies; and the anomalous milito ascertain in how far they may be said to tary force, of which they patronized the forhave made themselves responsible for its mation in the city of Paris, were so many
consequences, or to have deserved censure for preparations for actual hostility, and led altheir exertions: And, acquitting the greater most inevitably to that appeal to force, by
part of any mischievous intention, we found which all prospect of establishing an equitareason, upon that occasion, to conclude, that ble government was finally cut off.  Santhere was nothing in the conduct of the ma- guine as the patriots of that assembly unjority which should expose them to blame. or doubtedly were, they might still have redeprive them of the credit which they would membered the most obvious and important
have certainly enjoyed, but for consequences lesson in the whole volume of history, That
which they could not foresee. For those who  the nation which has recourse to arms for
with intentions equally blameless, attempted the settlement of its internal affairs, necesto carry into execution the projects which had sarily falls under the iron yoke of a military
been suggested by the others, and actually government in the end; and that nothing
engaged in measures which could not fail to but the most evident necessity can justify
terminate in important changes, it will not be the lovers of freedom in forcing it from the
easy, we are afraid, to make so satisfactory hands of their governors. In France, there
an apology. What is written may be cor- certainly was no such necessity. The whole
rected; but what is done cannot be recalled; weight and strength of the nation was bent
a rash and injudicious publication naturally upon political improvement and reform.calls forth an host of answers; and where the There was no possibility of their being ultisubject of discussion is such as excites a very mately resisted; and the only danger that
powerful interest, the cause of truth is not was to be apprehended was, that their proalways least effectually served by her oppo- gress would be too rapid. After the Statesnents. But the errors of cabinets and of legis- General were once fairly granted, indeed, it
latures have other consequences and other appears to us that the victory of the friends
confutations. They are answered by insur- to liberty was certain. They could not have
rections, and confuted by conspiracies. A  gone too slow afterwards; they could not
paradox which might have been maintained have been satisfied with too little.  The
by an author, without any other loss than that great object, then, should have been to exof a little leisure, and ink and paper, can elude the agency of force, and to leave no
only be supported by a minister at the ex- pretext for an appeal to violence. Nothing
pense of the lives and the liberties of a na- could have stood against the force of reason,
tion. It is evident, therefore, that the pre- which ought to have given way; and from
cipitation of a legislator can never admit of a monarch of the character of Louis XJV.
the same excuse with that of a speculative there was no reason to apprehend any atinquirer; that the same confidence in his tempt to regain, by violence, what he had
opinions, which justifies the former in main- yielded from principles of philanthropy and
tainjng them to the world, will never justify conviction. The Third Estate would have
the other in suspending the happiness of his grown into power, instead of usurping it;
country on the issue of their truth; and that and would have gradually compressed the
he, in particular, subjects himself to a tre- other orders into their proper dimensions
mendous responsibility, who voluntarily takes instead of displacing them  by a violence
upon himself the new-modelling of an ancient that could never be forgiven. Even if the
constitution.                             Orders had deliberated separately, (as it apWe are very much inclined to do justice pears to us they ought clearly to have done,)
to the virtuous and enlightened men who the commons were sure of an ultimate preabounded in the Constituent Assembly of ponderance, and the government of a perFrance.  We believe that the motives of manent and incalculable amelioration.' Conmany of them were pure, and their patriot- vened in a legislative assembly, and engrossism unaffected: their talents are still more ing almost entirely the respect and affections
indisputable: But we cannot acquit them of of the nation, they would have enjoyed the
blameable presumption and inexcusable im- unlimited liberty of political discussion, and
prudence. There are three points, it appears gradually impressed on the government the
to us, in particular, in which they were bound character of their peculiar principles.  By
to have foreseen the consequences of their the restoration of the legislative function to
proceedings.                              the commons of the kingdom, the system
In the first place, the spirit of exasperation, was rendered complete, and required c.nly to
defiance. and intimidation, with which from  be put into action in order to assume all those
the Leginning they carried on their opposi- improvements whichnecessarilyresul'ed from




212                 HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
the increased wealth and intelligence of its and to expose even those which were salutary
representatives.                        to misapprehension and miscarriage. From
Of this fair chance of amelioration, the a scheme of reformation so impetuous, ana
nation was disappointed, chiefly, we are in- an impatience so puerile, nothing permanent
dined to think, by the needless asperity and or judicious could be reasonably expected.
injudicious menaces of the popular party. In legislating for their country, they seem to
They relied openly upon the strength of their have forgotten that they were operating on a
adherents among the populace. If they did living and sentient substance, and not on an
not actually encourage them to threats and to inert and passive mass, which they might
acts of violence, they availed themselves at model and compound according to their pleasleast of those which were committed, to in- ure or their fancy. Human society, however,
timidate and depress their opponents; for it is not like a piece of mechanism which may
is indisputably certain, that the unconditional be safely taken to pieces, and put together by
compliance of the court with all the demands the hands of an ordinary artist. It is the
of the Constituent Assembly, was the result work of Nature, and not of man; and has
either of actual force, or the dread of its im- received, from the hands of its Author, an
mediate application. This was the inaus- organization that cannot be destroyed with.
picious commencement of the sins and the out danger to its existence, and certain propsufferings of the Revolution. Their progress erties and powers that cannot be altered or
and termination were natural and necessary. suspended by those who may have been enThe multitude, once allowed to overawe the trusted with its management. By studying
old government with threats, soon subjected those properties, and directing those powers,
the new government to the same degradation; it may be modified and altered to a very conand, once permitted to act in arms, came siderable extent. But they must be allowed
speedily to dictate to those who were assem- to develope themselves by their internal enbled to deliberate. As soon as an appeal was ergy, and to familiarize themselves with their
made to force, the decision came to be with new channel of exertion. A child cannot be
those by whom force could at all times be stretched out by engines to the stature of a
commanded. Reason and philosophy were man; or a man compelled, in a morning, to
discarded; and mere terror and brute vio- excelin all the exercises of an athlete. Those
lence, in the various forms of proscriptions, into whose hands the destinies of a great
insurrections, massacres, and military execu- nation are committed, should bestow on its
tions, harassed and distracted the misguided reformation at least as much patient observnation, till, by a natural consummation, they ance and as much tender precaution as are
fell under the despotic sceptre of a military displayed by a skilful gardener in his treat.
usurper. These consequences, we conceive, ment of a sickly plant. He props up the
were obvious, and might have been easily for- branches that are weak or overloaded, and
seen.  Nearly half a century had elapsed gradually prunes and reduces those that are
since they were pointed out in those memo- too luxuriant: he cuts away what is absolutely
rable words of the most profound and philo- rotten and distempered: he stirs the earth
sophical of historians. "By recent, as well about the root, and sprinkles it with water,
as by ancient example, it was become evi- and waits for the coming spring! He trains
dent, that illegal violence, with whatever the young branches to the right hand or to the
pretences it may be covered, and whatever left; and leads it, by a gradual and sponta.
object it may pursue, must inevitably end at neous progress, to expand or exalt itself, sealast in the arbitrary and despotic government son after season, in the direction which he
of a single person."*                    had previously determined: and thus, in the
The second inexcusable blunder, of which course of a few summers, he brings it, withthe Constituent Assembly was guilty, was out injury or compulsion, into that form and
one equally obvious, and has been more fre- proportion which could not with safety have
quently noticed. It was the extreme rest- been imposed upon it in a shorter time. The
lessness and precipitation with which they reformers of France applied no such gentle
proceeded to accomplish, in a few weeks, the solicitations, and would not wait for the effects
legislative labours of a century. Their con- of any such preparatory measures, or volunstitution was struck out at a heat; and their tary developments. They forcibly broke its
measures of reform proposed and adopted like lofty boughs asunder, and endeavoured te
toasts at an election dinner. Within less straighten its crooked joints by violence: they
than six months from the period of their first tortured it into symmetry in vain, and shed
convocation, they declared the illegality of all its life-blood on the earth, in the middle of its
the subsisting taxes; they abolished the old scattered branches.
constitution of the States-General; they set-   The third great danger, against which we
tied the limits of the Royal prerogative, their think it was the duty of the intelligent and
own inviolability, and the responsibility of virtuous part of the Deputies to have provided,
ministers. Before they put any one of their was that which arose from the sudden transprojects to the test of experiment, they had ference of power to the hands of men who
adopted such an enormous multitude, as en- had previously no natural or individual influtirely to innovate the condition of the country, ence in the community. This was an evil
fume's History, chapter  at theendTheindeed, which arose necessarily, in some dewhole passage is dhaes ptering of the   endmos     The gree, from the defects of the old government,
wholeditathe most profon                 and from the novelty of the situation in which
meditation.




BAILLY'S MEMOIRS.                                213
the country was placed by the convocation Parliament, after it was purged by the Indeof the States-General; but it was materially pendents, and the assemblies that met undel
aggravated by the presumption and improvi- that name, during the Protectorate of Cromdence of those enthusiastic legislators, and well, held the place, and enjoyed all the form
tended powerfully to produce those disasters of power that had belonged to their predeces..
by which they were ultimately overwhelmed. sors: But as they no longer contained those
No representative legislature, it appears to individuals who were able to sway and influus, can ever be respectable or secure, unless ence the opinion of the body of the peoplej
it contain within itself a great proportion of -they were without respect or authority, and
those who form the natural aristocracy of the speedily came to be the objects of public dericountry, and are able, as individuals, to influ- sion and contempt.
ence the conduct and opinions of the greater   As the power and authority of a legislature
part of its inhabitants. Unless the power and thus constituted, is perfectly secure and inweight and authority of the assembly, in alienable, on the one hand, so, on the other, the
short, be really made up of the power and moderation of its proceedings is guaranteed
weight and authority of the individuals who by a consciousness of the basis upon which
compose it, the factitious dignity they may this authority is founded. Every individual
derive fiom their situation can never be of being aware of the extent to which his own
long endurance; and the dangerous power influence is likely to reach among his constitwith which they may be invested, will be- uents and dependants, is anxious that the
come the subject of scrambling and conten- mandates of the body shall never pass beyond
tion among the factions of the metropolis, and that limit, within which obedience may be
be employed for any purpose but the general easily secured. He will not hazard the loss
good of the community.                    of his own power, therefore, by any attempt
In England, the House of Commons is made to enlarge that of the legislature; and feelup of the individuals who, by birth, by for- ing, at every step, the weight and resistance
tune, or by talents, possess singly the greatest of the people, the whole assembly proceeds
influence over the rest of the people. The with a due regard to their opinions and premost certain and the most permanent influ- judices, and can never do any thing very inence, is that of rank and of riches; and these jurious or very distasteful to the majority.are the qualifications, accordingly, which re- From the very nature of the authority with
turn the greatest number of members. Men which they are invested, they are in fact consubmit to be governed by the united will of substantiated with the people for whom they
those, to whose will, as individuals, the greater are to legislate. They do not sit loose upon
part of them have been previously accustomed them, like riders on inferior animals; nor
to submit themselves; and an act of parlia- speculate nor project experiments upon their
ment is reverenced and obeyed, not because welfare, like operators upon a foreign subthe people are impressed with a constitutional stance. They are the natural organs, in fact,
veneration for an institution called a parlia- of a great living body; and are not only
ment, but because it has been passed by the warned, by their own feelings, of any injury
authority of those who are recognised as their which they may be tempted to inflict on it,
natural superiors, and by whose influence, as but would become incapable of performing
individuals, the same measures might have their functions, if they were to proceed far in
been enforced over the greater part of the debilitating the general system.
kingdom. Scarcely any new  power is ac-   Such, it appears to us, though delivered
quired, therefore, by the combination of those perhaps in too abstract and elementary a form,
persons into a legislature: They carry each is the just conception of a free representative
their share of influence and authority into the legislature. Neither the English House of
senate along with them; and it is by adding Commons, indeed, nor any assembly of any
the items of it together, that the influence other nation, ever realized it in all its perfecand authority of the senate itself is made up. tion: But it is in their approximation to such
From  such a senate, therefore, it is obvious a standard, we conceive, that their excellence
that their power can never be wrested, and and utility will be found to consist; and where
that it would not even attach to those who the conditions upon which we have insisted
might succeed in supplanting them in the are absolutely wanting, the sudden institution
legislature, by violence or intrigue; or by any of a representative legislature will only be a
other means than those by which they them- step to the most frightful disorders. Where
selves had originally secured their nomination. it has grown up in a country in which perIn such a state of representation, in short, the sonal liberty and property are tolerably secure,
influence of the representatives is not borrow- it naturally assumes that form which is most
ed from their office, but the influence of the favourable to its beneficial influence, and has
office is supported by that which is personal a tendency to perpetual improvement, and to
to its members; and parliament is chiefly the constant amelioration of the condition of
regarded as the great depository of all the the whole society. The difference between
authority which formerly existed, in a scat- a free government and a tyrannical one. contered state, among its members. This author- sists entirely in the different proportions of
ity, therefore, belonging to the men, and not the people that are influenced by their opinto their places, can neither be lost by them, ions. or subjugated by intimidation or force.
if they are forced from their places, nor found In a large socdety, opinions can only be reby those who may supplant them. The Long united by means of representations; and the




214                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
natural representative is the individual whose that has existed in modern times, it is not to
example and authority can influence the opin- be wondered at if they forgot the slender ties
ions of the greater part of those in whose by which they were bound to their constitubehalf he is delegated. This is the natural ents. The powers to which they had sucaristocracy of a civilized nation; and its lengis- ceeded were so infinitely beyond any thing
lature is then upon the best possible footing, that they had enjoyed in their individual
when it is in the hands of those who answer capacity, that it is not surprising if they never
to that description. The whole people are thought of exerting them with the same conthen governed by the laws, exactly as each sideration and caution. Instead of the great
clan or district of them would have been by bases of rank and property, which cannot be
the patriarchal authority of an elective and transferred by the clamours of the factious,
unarmed chieftain; and the lawgivers are not or the caprice of the inconstant, and which
only secure of their places while they can serve to ballast and steady the vessel of the
maintain their individual influence over the state in all its wanderings and perils, the
people, but are withheld from any rash or assembly possessed only the basis of talent
injurious measure by the consciousness and or reputation; qualities which depend upon
feeling of their dependence on this voluntary opinion and opportunity, and which may be
deference and submission.                 attributed in the same proportion to an inconIf this be at all a just representation of the venient multitude at once. The whole legisconditions upon which the respectability and lature may be considered, therefore, as comsecurity of a representative legislature must posed of adventurers, who had already attained
always depend, it will not be difficult to ex- a situation incalculably above their original
plain how the experiment miscarried so com- pretensions, and were now tempted to push
pletely, in the case of the French Constituent their fortune by every means that held out
Assembly. That assembly, which the enthu- the promise of immediate success.  They
siasm of the public, and the misconduct of had nothing, comparatively speaking, to lose,
the privileged orders, soon enabled to engross but their places in that assembly, or the influthe whole power of the country, consisted ence which they possessed within its walls;
almost entirely of persons without name or and as the authority of the assembly itself
individual influence; who owed the whole of depended altogether upon the popularity of
their consequence to the situation to which its measures, and not upon the intrinsic authey had been elevated, and were not able, thority of its members, so it was only to be
as individuals, to have influenced the opinions maintained by a succession of brilliant and
of one-fiftieth part of their countrymen.-  imposing resolutions, and by satisfying or outThere was in France, indeed, at this time, no doing the extravagant wishes and expectations
legitimate, wholesome, or real aristocracy.-  of the most extravagant and sanguine populace
The noblesse, who were persecuted for bear- that ever existed. For a man to get a lead in
ing that name, were quite disconnected from  such an assembly, it was by no means necesthe people. Their habits of perpetual resi- sary that he should have previously possessed
dence in the capital, and their total independ- any influence or authority in the community;
ence of the good opinion of their vassals, that he should be connected with powerful
had deprived them of any real influence over families, or supported by great and extensive
the minds of the lower orders; and the or- associations. If he could dazzle and overawe
ganization of society had not yet enabled the in debate; if he could obtain the acclamations
rich manufacturers or proprietors to assume of the mob of Versailles, and make himself
such an influence. The persons sent as de- familiar to the eyes and the ears of the asputies to the States-General, therefore, were sembly and its galleries. he was in a fair train
those chiefly who, by intrigue and boldness, for having a great share'in the direction of an
and by professions of uncommon zeal for what assembly exercising absolute sovereignty over
were then the great objects of popular pursuit, thirty millions of men. The prize was too
had been enabled to carry the votes of the tempting not to attract a multitude of comelectors. A notion of talent, and an opinion petitors; and the assembly for many months
that they would be loud and vehement in was governed by those who outvied their
supporting those requests upon which the associates in the impracticable extravagance
people had already come to a decision, were of their patriotism, and sacrificed most protheir passports into that assembly.  They fusely the real interests of the people at the
were sent there to express the particular shrine of a precarious popularity.
demands of the people, and not to give a   In this way, the assembly, from the inherent
general pledge of their acquiescence in what vices of its constitution, ceased to be respectmight there be enacted. They were not the able or useful. The same causes speedily
hereditary patrons of the people, but their put an end to its security, and converted it
hired advocates for a particular pleading.- into an instrument of destruction.
They had no general trust or authority over   Mere popularity was at first the instrument
them, but were chosen as their special mes- by which this unsteady legislature was govsengers, out of a multitude whose influence erned: But when it became apparent, that
and pretensions were equally powerful.    whoever could obtain the direction or comWhen these men found themselves, as it mand of it, must possess the whole authority
were by accident, in possession of the whole of the state, parties became less scrupulous
power of the state, and invested with the about the means they employed for that purabsolute government of the greatest nation pose, and soon found out that violence and




BAILLY'S MEMOIRS.                               215
terror were infinitely more effectual and ex- was attached, from their fortune, their age, o,
peditious than persuasion and eloquence. The their official station; if, in short, instead of
people at large, who had no attachment to grasping presumptuously at the exclusive di.
any families or individuals among their dele- rection of the national councils, and arrogating
gates, and who contented themselves with every thing on the credit of their zealous
idolizing the assembly in general, so long as patriotism and inexperienced abilities, they
it passed decrees to their liking, were passive had sought to strengthen themselves by an
and indifferent spectators of the transference alliance with what was respectable in the
of power which was effected by the pikes of existing establishments, and attached them.
the Parisian multitude; and looked with equal selves at first as disciples to those whom they
affection upon every successive junto which might fairly expect speedily to outgrow and
assumed the management of its deliberations. eclipse.
Having no natural representatives, they felt   Upon a review of the whole matter, it
themselves equally connected with all who seems impossible to acquit those of the revoexercised the legislative function; and, being lutionary patriots, whose intentions are ad.
destitute of a real aristocracy, were without mitted to be pure, of great precipitation, prethe means of giving effectual support even to sumption, and imprudence. Apologies may
those who might appear to deserve it. En- be found for them, perhaps, in the inexpecouraged by this situation of affairs, the most rience which was incident to their situation;
daring, unprincipled, and profligate, proceeded in their constant apprehension of being sepato seize upon the defenceless legislature, and, rated before their task was accomplished; in
driving all their antagonists before them by the exasperation which was excited by the
violence or intimidation, entered without op- insidious proceedings of the cabinet; and in
position upon the supreme functions of gov- the intoxication which naturally resulted from
ernment. They soon found, however, that the magnitude of their early triumph, and the
the arms by which they had been victorious, noise and resounding of their popularity. But
were capable of being turned against them- the errors into which they fell were inexselves; and those who were envious of their cusable, we think, in politicians of the eightsuccess, or ambitious of their distinction, easily eenth century; and while we pity their suffound means to excite discontent among the ferings, and admire their genius, we cannot
multitude, now inured to insurrection, and to feel much respect for their wisdom, or any
employ them in pulling down those very in- surprise at their miscarriage.
dividuals whom they had so recently exalted.   The preceding train of reflection was irreThe disposal of the legislature thus became a sistibly suggested to us by the title and the con.
prize to be fought for in the clubs and con- tents of the volumes now before us. Among
spiracies and insurrections of a corrupted the virtuous members of the first Assembly,
metropolis; and the institution of a national there was no one who stood higher than Bailly.
representative had no other effect, than that As a scholar and a man of science, he had
of laying the government open to lawless long stood in the very first rank of celebrity:
force and flagitious audacity.           His private morals were not only irreproachIt is in this manner, it appears to us, that able, but exemplary; and his character and
from the want of a natural and efficient aris- dispositions had always been remarkable for
tocracy to exercise the functions of represent- gentleness, moderation, and philanthropy.
ative legislators, the National Assembly of Drawn unconsciously, if we may believe his
France was betrayed into extravagance, and own account, into public life, rather than imfell a prey to faction; that the institution pelled into it by any movement of ambition,
itself became a source of public misery and he participated in the enthusiasm, and in the
disorder, and converted a civilized monarchy, imprudence, from which no one seemed at
first into a sanguinary democracy, and then that time to be exempted; and in spite of an
into a military despotism.               early retreat. speedily suffered that fate by
It would be the excess of injustice, we which all the well meaning were then deshave already said; to impute those disastrous tined to expiate their errors. His popularity
consequences to the moderate and virtuous was at one time equal to that of any of the
individuals who sat in the Constituent As- idols of the day; and if it was gained by
sembly: But if it be admitted that they might some degree of blameable indulgence and
hiave been easily foreseen, it will not be easy unjustifiable zeal, it was forfeited at last (and
to exculpate them from the charge of very along with his life) by a resolute opposition
blameable imprudence. It would be difficult, to disorder, and a meritorious perseverance
indeed, to point out any course of conduct by in the discharge of his duty.
which those dangers might have been entirely
avoided: But they would undoubtedly have   The sequel of this article, containing a full
been less formidable, if the enlightened mem- abstract of the learned author's recollections
bers of the Third Estate had endeavoured to of the first six months only of his mayoralty,
form a party with the more liberal and popu- is now omitted; both as too minute to retain
lar among the nobility; if they had associated any interest at this day, and as superseded
to themselves a greater number of those to by the more comprehensive details whic:
whose persons a certain degree of influence will be found in the succeeding article.




HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
(Z tptembetr, 1818.)
Considerations sur les Principaux Evenemens de la Revolution Franpoise. Ouvrage Posthunm
de Madame la Baronne de Stael. Publi6 par M. LE DUC DE BROGLIE et M. LE BARON A.
DE STAjiL. En trois tomes. 8vo. pp. 1285. Londres: 1818.
No book can possibly possess a higher like this, we have not yet facts enough for so
interest than this which is now before us. much philosophy; and must be contented,
It is the last, dying bequest of the most bril- we fear, for a long time to come, to call many
liant writer that has appeared in our days;-  things accidental, which it would be more
and it treats of a period of history which we satisfactory to refer to determinate causes.
already know to be the most important that In her estimate of the happiness, and her
has occurred for centuries; and which those notions of the wisdom of private life, we
who look back on it, after other centuries think her both unfortunate and erroneous.
have elapsed, will probably consider as still She makes passions and high sensibilities a
more important.                          great deal too indispensable; and varnishes
We cannot stop now to say all that we think over all her pictures too uniformly with the
of Madame de Stail:-and yet we must say, glare of an extravagant or affected enthuthat we think her the most powerful writer siasm. She represents men, in short, as a
that her country has produced since the time great deal more unhappy, more depraved
of Voltaire and Rousseau-and the greatest and more energetic, than they are-and
writer, of a woman, that any time or any seems to respect them the more for it. In
country has produced. Her taste, perhaps, her politics she is far more unexceptionable.
is not quite pure; and her style is too irregu- She is everywhere the warm friend and anilar and ambitious. These faults may even mated advocate of liberty-and of liberal,
go deeper. Her passion for effect, and the practical, and philanthropic principles. On
tone of exaggeration which it naturally pro- those subjects we cannot blame her enthuduces, have probably interfered occasionally siasm, which has nothing in it vindictive or
with the soundness of her judgment, and provoking; and are far more inclined to envy
given a suspicious colouring to some of her than to reprove that sanguine and buoyant
representations of fact. At all events, they temper of mind which, after all she has seen
have rendered her impatient of the humbler and suffered, still leads her to overrate, in our
task of completing her explanatory details, apprehension, both the merit of past attempts
or stating in their order all the premises of at political amelioration, and the chances of
her reasonings. She gives her history in their success hereafter. It is in that futurity,
abstracts, and her theories in aphorisms:-  we fear, and in the hopes that make it preand the greater part of her works, instead of sent, that the lovers of mankind must yet,
presenting that systematic unity from which for a while, console themselves for the disapthe highest degrees of strength and beauty pointments which still seem to beset them.
and clearness must ever be derived, may be If Madame de Stail, however, predicts with
fairly described as a collection of striking too much confidence, it must be admitted
fragments-in which a great deal of repe- that her labours have a powerful tendency to
tition does by no means diminish the effect realize her predictions. Her writings are all
of a good deal of inconsistency. In those full of the most animating views of the imsame works, however, whether we consider provement of our social condition, and the
them as fragments or as systems, we do not means by which it may be effected-the most
hesitate to say that there are more original striking refutations of prevailing errors on
and profound observations,-more new images these great subjects-and the most persuasive
-greater sagacity combined with higher im- expostulations with those who may think their
agination-and more of the true philosophy interest or their honour concerned in mainof the passions, the politics, and the literature taining them. Even they who are the least
of her contemporaries-than in any other inclined to agree with her, must admit that
author we can now remember. She has great there is much to be learned from her writings;
eloquence on all subjects; and a singular and we can give them no higher praise than
pathos in representing those bitterest agonies to say, that their tendency is not only to pro.
of the spirit, in which wretchedness is aggra- mote the interests of philanthropy and indevated by remorse, or by regrets that partake pendence, but to soften, rather than exasperate,
of its character. Though it is difficult to re- the prejudices to which they are opposed.
sist her when she is in earnest, we cannot say   Of the work before us, we do not know
that we agree in all her opinions, or approve very well what to say. It contains a multi.
of all her sentiments. She overrates the im- tude of admirable remarks-and a still greater
portance of literature, either in determining number of curious details; for Madame de
the character or affecting the happiness of Stail was not only a contemporary, but an eye.
mankind; and she theorises too confidently witness of much that she describes, and had
on its past and its future history. On subjects the very best access to learn what did not fall




DE STAEL'S FRENCH REVOLUTION.                            217
under her immediate observation. Few per- giant outline which it traces on tile sky. A
sons certainly could be better qualified to ap- traveller who wanders through a rugged and
preciate the relative importance of the sub- picturesque district, though struck with the
jests that fell under her review; and no one, beauty of every new valley, or the grandeur
we really think, so little likely to colour and of every cliff that he passes, has no notion at
distort them, from any personal or party feel- all of the general configuration of the country,
ings. With all those rare qualifications, how- or even of the relative situation of the objects
ever, and inestimable advantages for perform- he has been admiring; and will understand
ing the task of an historian, we cannot say all those things, and his own route among
that she has made a good history. It is too them, a thousand times better, from a small
much broken into fragments. The narrative map on a scale of half an inch to a mile,
is too much interrupted by reflections: and which represents neither thickets or hamlets,
the reflections too much subdivided, to suit than from the most painful efforts to combine
the subdivisions of the narrative. ~ There are the indications of the strongest memory. The
too many events omitted, or but cursorily case is the same with those who live through
noticed, to give the work the interest of a full periods of great historical interest. They are
and flowing history; and a great deal too too near the scene-too much interested in
many detailed and analyzed, to let it pass for each successive event-and too much agian essay on the philosophy, or greater results tated with their rapid succession, to form any
of these memorable transactions. We are just estimate of the character or result of the
the most struck with this last fault-which whole. They are like private soldiers in the
perhaps is inseparable from the condition of middle of a great battle, or rather of a busy
a contemporary writer; —for, though the ob- and complicated campaign-hardly knowing
servation may sound at first like a paradox, whether they have lost or won, and having
we are rather inclined to think that the best but the most obscure and imperfect concephistorical compositions-not only the most tion of the general movements in which their
pleasing to read, but the most just and in- own fate has been involved. The foreigner
structive in themselves-must be written at who reads of them  in the Gazette, or the
a very considerable distance from the times peasant who sees them from the top of a disto which they relate. When we read an elo- tant hill or a steeple, has in fact a far better
quent and judicious account of great events idea of them.
transacted in other ages, our first sentiment   Of the thousand or fifteen hundred names
is that of regret at not being able to learn that have been connected in contemporary
more of them. We wish anxiously for a fuller fame with the great events of the last twentydetail of particulars-we envy those who had five years, how many will go down to posthe good fortune to live in the time of such terity? In all probability not more than
interesting occurrences, and blame them for twenty: And who shall yet venture to say
having left us so brief and imperfect a me- which twenty it will be? But it is the same
morial of them. But the truth is, if we may with the events as with the actors. How
judge from  our own experience, that the often, during that period, have we mourned
greater part of those who were present to or exulted, with exaggerated emotions, over
those mighty operations, were but very im- occurrences that we already discover to have
perfectly aware of their importance, and con- been of no permanent importance!-how cerjectured but little of the influence they were tain is it, that the far greater proportion of
to exert on future generations. Their atten- those to which we still attach an interest, will
tion was successively engaged by each sepa- be viewed with the same indifference by the
rate act of the great drama that was passing very next generation!-and how probable,
before them; but did not extend to the con- that the whole train and tissue of the history
nected effect of the whole, in which alone will appear, to a remoter posterity, under a
posterity was to find the grandeur and inter- totally different character and colour from any
est of the scene. The connection indeed of that the most penetrating observer of the prethose different acts is very often not then sent day has thought of ascribing to it! Was
discernible. The series often stretches on, there any contemporary, do we think, of Mabeyond the reach of the generation which homet, of Gregory VII., of Faust, or Columwitnessed its beginning, and makes it impos- bust who formed the same estimate of their
sible for them to integrate what had not yet achievements that we do at this day? Were
attained its completion; while, from similar the great and wise men who brought about
causes, many of the terms that at first ap- the Reformation, as much aware of its impeared most important are unavoidably dis- portance as the whole world is at present? or
carded, to bring the problem within a manage- does any one imagine, that, even in the later
able compass. Time, in short, performs the and more domestic events of the establish.
same services to events, which distance does ment of the English Commonwealth in 1648,
to visible objects. It obscures and gradually or the English Revolution in 1688, the large
annihilates the small, but renders those that and energetic spirits by whom those great
are very great much more distinct and con- events were conducted were fully sensible of
ceivable. If we would know the true form  their true character and bearings, or at all
and bearings of an Alpine ridge, we must not foresaw the mighty consequences of which
grovel among the irregularities of its surface  they have since been prolific?
but observe, from the distance of leagues, the   But though it may thus require the lapso
direction of its ranges and peaks, and the of ages to develope the true character of a




218                   HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
great transaction, and though its history may ages, true at least to the general features of
therefore be written with most advantage such periods, we have nothing but a tranvery long after its occurrence, it does not fol- script of the author's own most recent fanta.
low that such a history will not be deficient sies and follies, ill disguised under t~e
in many qualities which it would be desira- masquerade character of a few  traditional
ble for it to possess. All we say is, that they names.-It is only necessary to call to mina
are qualities which will generally be found such books as Zouche's Life of Sir Philip
incompatible with those larger and sounder Sydney, or Godwin's Life of Chaucer, to feel
views. which can hardly be matured while this much more strongly than we can now
the subjects of them are recent. That thisis express it. These, no doubt, are extreme
an imperfection in our histories and histori- cases — but we suspect that our impressions
ans, is sufficiently obvious; but it is an im- of almost all remote characters and events,
perfection to which we must patiently resign and the general notions we have of the times
ourselves, if it appear to be an unavoidable or societies which produced them, are much
consequence of the limitation of our faculties. more dependent on the peculiar temper and
We cannot both enjoy the sublime effect of a habits of the popular writers in whom the
vast and various landscape. and at the same memory of them is chiefly preserved, than it
time discern the form of every leaf in the for- is very pleasant to think of. If we ever take
est, or the movements of every living crea- the trouble of looking for ourselves into the
ture that breathes within its expanse. Beings documents and materials out of which those
of a higher order may be capable of this;-  histories are made, we feel at once how much
and it would be very desirable to be so: room there is for a very different representaBut, constituted as we are, it is impossible: tion of all those things from that which is
and, in our delineation of such a scene, all current in the world: And accordingly we
that is minute and detached, however inter- occasionally have very opposite representaesting or important to those who are at hand, tions. Compare Bossuet's Universal History
must therefore be omitted-while the general with Voltaire's-Rollin with Mitford-Hume
effect is entrusted to masses in which nothing or Clarendon with Ralph or Mrs. M'Aulay;
but the great outlines of great objects are pre- and it will be difficult to believe that these
served, and the details left to be inferred from  different writers are speaking of the same
the character of their results, or the larger persons and things.
features of their usual accompaniments.     The work before us, we have already said,
It is needless to apply this to the case of is singularly free from faults of this descriphistory; in which, when it records events of tion. It is written, we do think, in the true
permanent interest, it is equally impossible to spirit and temper of historical impartiality.
retain those particular details which engrossed But it has faults of a different character, and
the attention of contemporaries-both because with many of the merits, combines some of
the memory of them is necessarily lost in the the appropriate defects, both of a contempocourse of that period which must elapse be- rary and philosophical history. Its details are
fore the just value of the whole can be too few and too succinct for the former-they
known-and because, even if it were other- are too numerous and too rashly selected for
wise, no human memory could retain, or the latter; —while the reasonings and specuhuman judgment discriminate. the infinite lations in which perhaps its chief value connumber of particulars which must have been sists, seem already to be too often thrown
presented in such an interval. We shall only away upon matters that cannot long be had
observe, further, that though that which is in remembrance. We must take care not to
preserved is generally the most material and get entangled too far among the anecdotestruly important part of the story, it not un- but the general reasoning cannot detain us
frequently happens, that too little is pre- very long.
served to afford materials for a satisfactory   It is the scope of the book to show that
narrative or to justify any general conclu- France must have a free government-a
sion; and that, in such cases, the historian limited monarchy-in express words, a conoften yields to the temptation of connecting stitution like that of England. This, Madame
the scanty materials that have reached him  de Stail says, was all that the body of the
by a sort of general and theoretical reasoning, nation aimed at in 1789-and this she says
which naturally takes its colour from the pre- the great majority of the nation are resolved
vailing views and opinions of the individual to have still-undeterred by the fatal miscarwriter, or of the age to which he belongs. If riage of the last experiment, and undisgusted
an author of consummate judgment, and with by the revival of ancient pretensions which
a thorough knowledge of the unchangeable has signalised its close. Still, though she
principles of human nature, undertake this maintains this to be the prevailing sentiment
task, it is wonderful indeed to see how much of the French people, she thinks it not alto.
he may make of a subject that appears so un- gether unnecessary to combat this discour
promising —and it is almost certain that the agement and this disgust; —and the great
view he will give to his readers, of such an object of all that is argumentative in her
obscure period, will. at all events, be at least book, is to show that there is nothing in the
as instructive and interesting as if he had had character or condition, or late or early history
its entire annals before him. In other hands, of her countrymen, to render this regulated
however, the result is very different; and, in- freedom  unattainable by them, or to dis.
stead of a masterly picture of rude or remote qualify them from the enjoyment of a repre



DE STAEL'S FRENCH REVOLUTION.                           219
sentative government, or the functions of free consummation-and that every thing is now
citizens.                                in the fairest train to secure it, without any
For this purpose she takes a rapid and mas- great effort or hazard of disturbance.
terly view of the progress of the different   That these views are supported with infinite
European kingdoms; from their primitive con- talent, spirit, and eloquence, no one who has
dition of feudal aristocracies, to their present read the book will probably dispute; and we
state of monarchies limited by law, or miti- should be sorry indeed to think that they were
gated by the force of public opinion; and en- not substantially just. Yet we are not, we
deavours to show, that the course has been confess, quite so sanguine as the distinguished
the same in all; and that its unavoidable ter- writer before us; and though we do not doubt
mination is in a balanced constitution like that either that her principles are true, or that her
of England. The first change was the reduc- predictions will be ultimately accomplished, we
tion of the Nobles,-chiefly by the aid which fear that the period of their triumph is not yet
the Commons, then first pretending to wealth at hand; and that it is far more doubtful than
or intelligence, afforded to the Crown-and, she will allow it to be, whether that triumph
on this basis, some small states, in Italy and will be easy, peaceful, and secure. The exGermany especially, erected a permanent ample of England is her great, indeed her only
system of freedom. But the necessities of authority; but we are afraid that she has run
war, and the substitution of hired forces for the parallel with more boldness than circum.
the feudal militia, led much more generally spection, and overlooked a variety of particulars
to the establishment of an arbitrary or des- in our case, to which she could not easily find
potical authority; which was accomplished in any thing equivalent in that of her country. It
France, Spain, and England, under Louis XI., might be invidious to dwell much on the oppoPhilip II., and Henry VIII. Then came the site character and temper of the two nations;
age of commerce, luxury, and taxes,-which though it is no answer to say, that this character
necessarily ripened into the age of general is the work of the government. But can Maintelligence, individual wealth, and a sense dame de Sta1l have forgotten, that England had
both of right and of power in the people;-  a parliament and a representative legislature
and those led irresistibly to a limitation on for five hundred years before 1648; and that it
the powers of the Crown, by a representative was by that organ, and the widely spread and
assembly.                                deeply founded machinery of the elections on
England having less occasion for a land whichit rested, that the struggle was made, and
army-and having been the first in the career the victory won, which ultimately secured to us
of commercial prosperity, led the way in this the blessings of political freedom? The least
great amelioration. But the same general reflection upon the nature of government, and
principles have been operating in all the Con- the true foundations of all liberty, will show
tinental kingdoms, and must ultimately pro- what an immense advantage this was in the
luce the same effects. The peculiar advan- contest; and with what formidable obstacles
tages which she enjoyed did not prevent those must have to struggle, who are obliged
England from being enslaved by the tyranny to engage in a similar conflict without it.
of Henry VIII., and Mary; —and she also ex-   All political power, even the most despotic,
perienced the hazards, and paid the penalties rests at last, as was profoundly observed by
which are perhaps inseparable from the as- Hume, upon Opinion. A government is Just,
sertion of popular rights.-She also overthrew  or otherwise, according as it promotes, more
the monarchy, and sacrificed the monarch in or less, the true interests of the people who
her first attempt to set limits to his power. live under it. But it is Stable and secure, exThe English Commonwealth of 1648, origi- actly as it is directed by the opinion of those
nated in as wild speculations as the French who really possess, and know that they posof 1792-and ended, like it, in the establish- sess, the power of enforcing it, and upon whose
ment of a military tyranny, and a restoration opinion, therefore it constantly depends;which seemed to confound all the asserters that is, in a military despotism, on the opinion
of liberty in the general guilt of rebellion:-  of the soldiery;-in all rude and ignorant
Yet all the world is now agreed that this was communities, on the opinion of those who
but the first explosion of a flame that could monopolise the intelligence, the wealth, or the
neither be extinguished nor permanently re- discipline which constitute power-the priestpressed; and that what took place in 1688, hood-the landed proprietors-the armed and
was but the sequel and necessary consumma- inured to war'; —and, in civilised societies, on
tion of what had been begun forty years be- the opinion of that larger proportion of the
fore —and which might and would have been people who can bring their joint talents,
accomplished without even the slightest shock wealth, and strength, to act in concert when
and disturbance that was then experienced, occasion requires. Agovernment may indeed
if the Court had profited as much as the subsist for a time, although opposed to the
leaders of the people by the lessons of that first opinion of those classes of persons; but its
experience. Such too, Madame de Sta/l as- existence must always be precarious, and it
sures us, is the unalterable destiny of France; probably will not subsist long. The natural
-and it is the great purpose of her book to and appropriate Constitution, therefore, is, in
show, that but for circumstances which cannot every case, that which enables those who ac
reclr-mistakes that cannot be repeated, and tually administer the government, to ascertain
accidents which never happened twice, even and conform themselves in time to the opinion
the last attempt wvould have led to that blessed of those who have the power to overturn it




220                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
and no government whatever can possibly be vent. In countries where tnere never have
secure where there are no arrangements for been any political elections, and few local
this purpose. Thus it is plainly for want of a magistracies, or occasions of provincial and
proper Despotic Constitution-for want of a parochial assemblages for public purposes, the
regular and safe way of getting at the opinions real state of opinion must be substantially
of their armies, that the Sultans and other unknown even to the most observant resident
Asiatic sovereigns are so frequently beheaded in each particular district;-and its general
by their janissaries or insurgent soldiery: and, bearing all over the country can never possiin like manner, it was for want of a proper bly be learned by the most diligent inquiries,
Feudal Constitution, that, in the decline of that or even guessed at with any reasonable desystem, the King was so often dethroned by gree of probability. The first deputies, therehis rebellious barons, or excommunicated by fore, are necessarily returned, without any
an usurping priesthood. In more advanced firm or assured knowledge of the sentiments
times, there is the same necessity of conform- of their constituents-and they again can
ing to the prevailing opinion of those more have nothing but the most vague notions of
extended and diversified descriptions of per- the temper in which these sentiments are to
sons in whom the power of enforcing and re- be enforced-while the whole deputies come
sisting has come to reside; and the natural together without any notion of the disposiand only safe constitution for such societies, tions, or talents, or designs of each other, and
must therefore embrace a representative as- are left to scramble for distinction and influsembly. A government may no doubt go on, ence, according to the measure of their indiin opposition to the opinion of this virtual aris- vidual zeal, knowledge, or assurance.  In
tocracy, for a long time after it has come into England, there were no such novelties to be
existence. For it is not enough that there is hazarded, either in 1640 or in 1688.  The
wealth, and intelligence, and individual influ- people of this country have had an elective
ence enough in a community to overbear all parliament from the earliest period of their
pretensions opposed to them. It is necessary history-and, long before either of the periods
that the possessors of this virtual power should in question, had been trained in every hamlet
be aware of their own numbers, and of the to the exercises of various political franchises,
conformity of their sentiments or views; and and taught to consider themselves as connectit is very late in the progress of society before ed, by known and honourable ties, with all
the means of communication are so multiplied the persons of influence and consideration in
and improved, as to render this practicable in their neighbourhood, and. through them, by
any tolerable degree. Trade and the press, an easy gradation with the political leaders
however, have now greatly facilitated those of the State; —while, in Parliament itself, the
communications; and in all the central coun- place and pretensions of every man were
tries of Europe, they probably exist in a de- pretty accurately known, and the strength of
gree quite sufficient to give one of the parties, each party reasonably well ascertained by
at least, very decided impressions both as to long and repeated experiments, made under
its interests and its powers.             all variety of circumstances. The organizaIn such a situation of things, we cannot tion and machinery, in short, for collecting
hesitate to say that a representative govern- the public opinion, and bringing it into conment is the natural, and will be the ultimate tact with the administration, was perfect, and
remedy; but if we find, that even where such in daily operation among us, from very anan institution existed from antiquity, it was cient times. The various conduits and chanpossible so fatally to miscalculate and mis- nels by which it was to be conveyed from its
judge the opinions of the nation, as proved to first faint springs in the villages and burghs,
be the case in the reign of our King Charles, and conducted in gradually increasing streams
is it not manifest that there must be tenfold to the central wheels of the government, were
risk of such miscalculation in a country where all deep worn in the soil, and familiarly
no such constitution has been previously known, with all their levels and connections,
known, and where, from a thousand causes, to every one who could be affected by their
the-true state of the public mind is so apt to be condition. In France, when the new sluices
oppositely misconceived by the opposite par- were opened, not only were the waters unities, as it is up to the present hour in France? versally foul and turbid, but the quantity and
The great and cardinal use of a representa- the currents were all irregular and unknown;
tive body in the legislature is to afford a di- and some stagnated or trickled feebly along,
rect, safe, and legitimate channel, by which while others rushed and roared with the viothe public opinion may be brought to act on lence and the mischief of a torrent. But it is
the government: But, to enable it to perform  time to leave these perplexing generalities,
this function with success, it is by no means and come a little closer to the work before us.
enough, that a certain number of deputies are   It was the Cardinal de Richelieu, according
sent into the legislature by a certain number to Madame de Sta0l, who completed the deof electors. Without a good deal of previous gradation of the French nobility, begun by
training, the public opinion itself can neither Louis XI.;-and the arrogance and Spanish
be formed, collected, nor expressed in any au- gravity of Louis XIV., assumed, as she says,
thentic or effectual manner; and the first "pour eloigner de lui la familiarite des jugeestablishment of the representative system  mens," fixed them in the capacity of cour
must be expected to occasion very nearly as tiers; and put an end to that gay and easy
much disturbance as it may ultimately pre- tone of communication, which, in the days of




DE STAEL'S FRENCH REVOLUTION.                          22i
Henri IV., had made the task of a courtier try, to have been, " to persuade the King to
both less wearisome and less degrading. She do of himself that justice to the people, to
has no partiality, indeed, for the memory of obtain which they afterwards insisted for repthat buckram hero-and is very indignant at resentatives."  Such a counsellor, of course,
his being regarded as the patron of literature. had no chance in 1780; and, the year after,
"'l persecuta Port-Royal, dont Pascal 6toit le M. Necker was accordingly dismissed. The
chef; il fit mourir de chagrin Racine; il exila great objection to him Nwas, that he proposed
Fenelon; il s'opposa constamment aux hon- innovations-" et de toutes les innovations,
neurs qu'on vouloit rendre a La Fontaine, et celle que les courtisans et les financiers dene professa de Iladmiration que pour Boileau. testent le plus, t'est l'EcoNoMIE."  Before
La litterature, en l'exaltant avec excds, a bien going out, however, he (lid a great deal of
plus fait pour lui qu'il n'a fait pour elle." —  good; and found means, while M. de Mau(Vol. i. p. 36.) In his own person indeed, he repas had a bad fit of gout, to get M. de Saroutlived his popularity, if not his fame. The tine removed from the ministry of marine —a
brilliancy of his early successes was lost in personage so extremely diligent in the studies
his later reverses. The debts he had con- belonging to his department, that when M.
tracted lay like a load on the nation; and the Necker went to see him soon after his appointrigour and gloominess of his devotion was one ment, he found him in a chamber all hung
cause of the alacrity with which the nation round with maps; and boasting with much
plunged into all the excesses and profligacy of complacency. that "he could already put his
the regency and the suceeding reign.     hand upon the largest of them, and point, with
That reign —the weakness of Louis XV.- his eyes shut, to the four quarters of the
the avowed and disgusting influence of his world!"
mistresses and all their relations, and the na-   Calonne succeeded-a frivolous, presumptional disasters which they occasioned-to- tuous person,-and a financier, in so far as we
gether with the general spread of intelligence can judge, after the fashion of our poet-lauamong the body of the people, and the bold reate: For he too, it seems, was used to call
and vigorous spirit displayed in the writings prodigality " a large economy;" and to assure
of Montesquieu, Voltaire, and Rousseau, cre- the King, that the more lavish he and his
ated a general feeling of discontent and con- court were in their expenses, so much the
tempt for the government, and prepared the better would it fare with the country. The
way for those more intrepid reformers who consequence was, that the disorder soon bewere so soon destined to succeed.        came irremediable; and this sprightly minisLouis XVI., says Madame de Stadl, would ter was forced at last to adopt Turgot's prohave been the mildest and most equitable of posal of subjecting the privileged orders to
despots, and the most constitutional of consti- their share of the burdens-and finally to ad
tutional kings-had he been born to adminis- vise the convocation of the Notables, in 1787.
ter either an established despotism, or a   The Notables, however, being all privileged
constitutional monarchy.  But he was not persons, refused to give up any of their im
fitted to fill the throne during the difficult and munities-and they and M. de Calonne were
trying crisis of a transition from the one state dismissed accordingly. Then came the waverto the other. He was sincerely anxious for ing and undecided administration of M. de
the happiness and even the rights of his peo- Brienne, which ended with the resolution to
ple; but he had a hankering after the absolute assemble the States-General; —and this was
power which seemed to be his lawful inherit- the Revolution!
ance; and was too easily persuaded by those   Hitherto, says Madame de StaOl, the nation
about him to cling to it too long, for his own at large, and especially the lower orders, had
safety, or that of the country. The Queen, taken no share in those discussions.  The
with the same amiable dispositions, had still resistance to the Court —the complaints —the
more of those natural prejudices. M. de Mau- call for reformation. originated and was conrepas, a minister of the old school, was com- fined to the privileged orders-to the Parliapelled, by the growing disorders of the ments-the Nobles and the Clergy. No revfinances, to call to his aid the talents of Tur- olution indeed can succeed in a civilised
got and Necker about the year 1780. We country, which does not begin at least with
hear enough, of tourse, in this book, of the the higher orders. It was in the parliament
latter: But though we can pardon the filial of Paris, in which the peers of France had
piety which has led the author to discuss, at seats, and which had always been most tenaso great length, the merit of his plans of cious of the privileges of its members, that
finance and government, and to dwell on the the suggestion was first made which set fire
prophetic spirit in which he foresaw and fore- to the four quarters of the kingdom. In that
told all the consequences that have flowed kingdom, indeed, it could hardly fail, as it
from rejecting them, we have too much re- was made in the form of a pun or bon mot.
gard for our readers to oppress them. at this They were clamouring against the minister
time of day, with an analysis of the Compte for not exhibiting his account of the public
Rendu, or the scheme for provincial assem- expenses, when the Abb6 Sabatier saidblies. As an historical personage, he must "Vous demandez, messieurs, les itats de recette
have his due share of notice; and no fame et de depense-et ce sont les Etats-Generaux
can be purer than that to which he is entitled. qu'il nous faut!" —This was eagerly repeated
His daughter, we think, has truly described in every order of society; addresses to that
the scope of his endeavours, in his first minis- effect were poured in, in daily heaps; and at
T2




222                      HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
last M. (le Brienne was obliged to promise, in  I'ignorance, l'ignorance accroit la misere; et,
the King's name, that the  States-General quand on se demande pourquoi le peuple frangois a
shotuld assemble at the end of five years. ete6 si cruel dans la revolution, on ne peut en trouver
This delay only inflamed the general impa -la cause que dans l'absence de bonheur, qui conduit
This delay only inflamed the general imPat-  a l'absence de moralit6." —Vol. i. p. 79.
tience: and the clergy having solemnly declaimed against it, the King was at last obliged    But what made the injustice of this strange
to announce that they should meet early in  system of laying the heaviest pecuniary burthe following year.  M. Necker at the same  dens on the poorest a thousand times more
time was recalled to the ministry,               oppressive, and ten thousand times more proThe States-General were demanded by the voking, was, that the invidious right of exprivileged orders: and, if they really expect- emption came at last to be claimed, not by
ed to find them as they were in 1614, which  the true ancient noblesse of France, which,
was their last meeting, (though it is not very  Madame de Sta6l says, did not extend to two
conceivable that they should have overlooked  hundred families, butbyhundredsof thousands
the  lifference of the times,) we can under- of persons of all descriptions, who had bought
stand that they might have urged this demand  patents of nobility for the very purpose of obwithout any design of being very liberal to  taining this exemption.  There was nothing
the other orders of the community.  This is in the structure of French society that was
the edifying abstract which Madame de Stael more revolting, or called more loudly for rehas given of the proceedings of that venerable  formation, than the multitude and the preassembly.                                        tensions of this anomalous race.  They were
most jealously distinguished from the true
"Le Clerge demanda qu'il lui ffit permis de lever original Noblesse; which guarded its purity
des dimes sur toute espece de fruits et de gra et indeed with such extreme rigour, that no pertree des villes, ou de lui imposer sa part des contributiions pour les chemins; il r6clama de nouvelles carriages whose patent of nobility was not
entraves a la libert6de la presse. La Noblessede- certified by the Court heralds to bear date
nlanda que les principaux emplois fussent tous prior to the year 1400; and yet they not only
donnes exclusivement aux gentilshommes, qu'on  assumed the name and title of nobles, but
interdti aux roturiersles arquebuses, les pistolets, et were admitted, as against the people, into a'usage des chiens, a moins qu'ils n'eussent les full participation of all their most offensive
jarrets coupes. Elle demanda de plus que les roturiers payassent de nouveaux droits seigneuriaux  privileges.  It is with justice therefore that
aux gentilshommes possesseurs de fiefs; que l'on  Madame de Stael reckons as one great cause
supprimat toutes les pensions accord6es aux mem- of the Revolution, —
bres du tiers etat; mais que les gentilshommes                                     second ordr
fussent exempts de la contrainte par corps, et de  a l" Cette foule de gentilshommes du second ordre,
tout subside sur ls deres d  lurs tre   quilsanoblis de la veille, soit par les lettres de noblesse
pussent prendre du sel dans les greniers du roi au quo los rois donnoient comme faisant suite a laf
que les rois donnoient comme faisant suite t l'af.
pusent prixendre du sel dmarchans les greners du ro a   franchissement des Gaulois, soit par les charges
tat f  obigx que les marcr un habit diffrent que le tiers vnales de secretaire du roi, etc., qui associoient de
tat fat oblig6 de porter un habit difsorent de celui i..
des gentilshommes."-Vol. i. p. 162.              nouveaux individus aux droits et aux privileges des
arnciens gentilshommes. La nation se seroit soumise
The States-General, however, were decreed; volontiers a la preeminence des families historiques;
-and, that the whole blame of innovation  et je n'exagire pas en affirmant qu'il n'y en a pas
might still lie upon the higher orders M.         lus de  plus de deux cents en France. Mais les cent mille. nobles et les cent mille pretres qui vouloient avoir
Briienne, in the name of the King, invited all des privileges, a'e6gal de ceux de MM. de Montand sundry to make public their notions upon  morenci, de Grammont, de Crillon, etc., revolthe manner in which that great body should  toient ge'neralement; car desnedgocians, des hommes
be arranged. Bythe old form, the Nobles, the  de lettres, des propri6taires, des capitalistes, ne
Clergy, and the Commons, each deliberated  pouvoient comprendre la superiorite qu'on vouloit
eachhad but one voice in the enact- accorder a cette noblesse acquise a prix de r6ve'apart- -and eachrhad but one voice in the enacot-rences ou d'argent, et a laquelle vingt-cinq ans de
merit of laws; —so that the privileged orders date suffisoient pour siegre dans la chambre des
were always two to one against the other-  nobles, et pour jouir des privileges dont les plus
and the course of legislation had always been  honorables membres du tiers 6tat se voyoient prives.
to extend the privileges of the one, and in-    "La chambre des pairs en Angleterre est une
crease the burdens of the other. Accordingly,   agstrature patrleinne, fondde sans doute sur les
ancaens souvenirs de la chevalerie, mais tout-a-fait
the tiers 6tat had long been defined, "la gent associee a des institutions d'une nature tros-diffacorveable et taillable, a merei et a misericorde;   rente. Un me(rite distingu6 dans le commerce, et
-and Madame de Stael, in one of those pas- surtout dans la jurisprudence, en ouvre journellesages that already begin to be valuable to the  ment l'entr'e; et les droits repr6sentatifs que les
forgetful world, bears this -striking testimony  pairs exercent dans l'etat, attestent a la nation que
c'as to the effect on their actual condition est pour le bien public que leurs rangs sent instias to the effect on their actual condition.      tues. Mais quel avantage les Frangois pouvoient.
tuds. Mais quel avantage les Franqois pouvoientils trouver dans ces vicomtes de la Garonne, ou
"Les jeunes gens et les 6trangers qui n'ont pas ildans  ces marquis de la Loire, ui a  Garonne, ou
I    la France avant Ia revolution, et qtti vomontdans ces marquis de la Loire, qui ne payoient pas
connu la France avant la revolution, et qui voient seulement leur part des impots de 1'etat, et que le
aujourd'hui le peuple enrichi par la division des ri lui-mmen cevoit pas  sa cour; pulsqu'il
propriete's ot la suppression des dimes et du rtime  falloit faire des preuves de plus de quatre siecles
f6odal, ne peuvent avoir l'idSe de la situation de ce   tie admis, et qu'ils toient   pein  anoblis
pays, lorsque la nation portoit le poids de tous lespour y tre adms, t  qu'ils aanitedesgensdoeoblis
privileges. Les partisans de 11esclavage, dans lesdepuis cinquante ans? Lavanite des gens de cette
clprionies. Los partisans do I'esclavage, d ans ls classe ne pouvoit s'exercer que sur leurs inf(rieurs,
colonies, out souvent dit qu'un paysan de France          infrieurs, c'toient vin-quatre millions
et ces inf(rieurs, c'etoient vingt-quatre millions
itoit plus malheureux qu'un negre. C'etoit un  d'hommes." —Vol. i. p. 166-168.
argument pour souiager les blancs, mais non pour
s'endurcir contre lea noirs. La misere accroit    Strange as it may appear, there was no law




DE STAEL'S FRENCH REVOLUTION.                               223
or usage fixing the number of the deputies who imagined more striking than the first sight of
might be returned; and though, by the usage the twelve hundred deputies of France, as
of 161 4,eand some former assemblies, the they passed in solemn procession to heal
three orders were allowed each but one voice mass at Notre Dame, the day before the
in the legislature, there were earlier examples meeting of the States-General.
of the whole meeting and voting as individuals in the same assembly. M. de Brienne, as   "La Noblesse se trouvant dichue de sa splenwe have seen, took the sapient course of call- deur, par l'esprit de courtisan, par l'alliage del
anoblis, et par une longue paix; le Clerg6 ne posing all the pamphleteers of the kingdom into s'dant plus l'ascendant des lumires qu'il aveit eu
council upon this emergency. It was fixed dans les temps barbares; l'importance des deput6s
at last, though not without difficulty, that the du Tiers 6tat en etoit augment6e. Leurs habits et
deputies of the people should be equal in leurs manteaux noirs, leurs regards assur6s, leur
number to those of the other two classes to- nombre imposant, attiroient l'attention sur eux:
cether; and it is a trait worth mentioning, Des hommes de lettres, des negocians, un grand
nombre d'avocats composoient ce troisieme ordre.
that the only committee of Nobles who voted  Quelques nobles s'6toient fait nommer d6put6s du
for this concession, was that over which the tiers, et parmi ces nobles on remarquoit surtout le
present King of France (in 1818) presided. Comte de lliirabeau: l'opinion qu'on avoit de son
If it meant any thing, however, this conces-esprit 6toit singuli3rement augmentee par la peur
sion implied that the whole body was to de- que faisoit son immoralite; et cependant c'est cette
liberate in common and to vote individually; immoralite meme qui a diminue l'influence que sea
liberatein common,  l.                  tonnantes facultes devoient lui valoir. 11 6toit
and yet, incredible as it now appears, the fact difficile de ne pas le regarder long-temps, quand on
is that the King and his ministers allowed the l'avoit une fois aperqu: Son immense chevelure
deputies to be elected, and actually to assem- le distinguoit entre tous: on eit dit que sa force en
ble without having settled that great question, dependoit comme celle de Samson; son visage
or even made any approach to its settlement  empruntoit de l'expression de sa laideur meme; et
Of all the particular blunders that ensured or irroute sali perso ne donnoit l'ide d'une puissance
accelerated what was probably inevitable, se la repr6senteroit dans un tribun de peuple.
this has always appeared to us to be one of   "Aucun nom propre, excepte le sien, n'etoit
the most inconceivable.  The point, how- encore cElebre dans les six cents deput6s du tiers;
ever, though not taken up by any authority, maisiy avoit beaucoup d'hommes honorables, et
was plentifully discussed among the talkers 1eucoup d'hommes a craindre."-Vol. i. pp. 185,
of Paris; and Madame de Stail assures us,
that the side of the tiers itat was at that time    The first day of their meeting, the deputies
the most fashionable in good company, as of course insisted that the whole three orders
well as the most popular with the bulk of the should sit and vote together; and the majority
nation. "Tous ceux et toutes celles qui, dans of the nobles and clergy of course resisted:la haute compagnie de France, influoient sur And this went on for nearly two months, in
l'opinion, parloient vivement en faveur de la the face of the mob of Paris and the people
cause de la nation. La mode 6toit dans ce of France —before the King and his Council
sens.  C'etoit le r6sultat de tout le dix-huit- could make up their own minds on the matieme siecle; et les vieux prijuges, qui com- ter! The inner cabinet, in which the Queen
battoient encore pour les anciennes institu- and the Princes had the chief sway, had now
tions, avoient beaucoup moins (le force alors, taken the alarm, and was for resisting the
qu'ils;l'en ont eu a aucune epoque pendant pretensions of the Third Estate; while I,.
les vingt-cinq ann6es suivantes.  Enfin  la- Necker, and the ostensible ministers, were for
scendant de l'esprit public 6toit tel, qu]il compromising with them, while their power
entraina le parlement lui-mrrme." —(Vol. i. was not yet proved by experience, nor their
pp. 172, 173.) The clamour that was made pretensions raised by victory. The Ultras re
against them was not at that time by the ad- lied on the army, and were for dismissing the
vocates of the royal prerogative, but by in- Legislature as soon as they had granted a few
terested individuals of the privileged classes. taxes. M. Necker plainly told the King, that
On the contrary, Madame de Stael asserts he did not think that the army could be relied
positively, that the popular party was then on; and that he ought to make up his mind
disposed, as of old, to unite with the sovereign to reign hereafter under a constitution like
against the pretensions of those bodies, and that of England. There were fierce disputes,
that the sovereign was understood to partici- and endless consultations; and at length,
pate in their sentiments.  The statement cer- within three weeks after the States were
tainly seems to derive no slight confirmation opened, and before the Commons had gained
from  the memorable words which were ut- any decided advantage M. Necker obtained
tered at the time, in a public address by the the full assent both of the King and Queen to
reigning King of France, then the first of the a declaration, in which it was to be announced
Princes of the blood.-"Une grande revolution  to the States, that they should sit and vote as
6toit pret, dit Monsieur (aujourd'hui Louis one body in all questions of taxation. and in
XVIII.) a. la municipalite de Paris, en 1789; twuo chambers only in all other questions.
le roi, par ses intentions. ses vertus, et son This arrangement, Madame de Stail assures
rang supreme, devoit en etre le chef!7/  We us. would have satisfied the Commons at the
perfectly agree with Madame de Stal — que  time, and invested the throne with the great
toute la sagesse de la circonstance etoit dans strength of popularity. But, after a full and
rits paroles.1"                             deliberate consent had been given by both;iothing, says Madame de Stael, can be their Majesties, the party about the Queen




22i                   HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
found means to put off from day to day the following important statement, which hat
publication of the important instrument; and never yet been made on equal authority.
a whole month was unpardonably wasted in
vile discussions; during which, nearly one   "M. Necker n'ignoroit pas le ve6table objet
half of the nobles and clergy had joined the pour lequel on faisoit avancer les troupes, bien
deputies of the nCommoensand tand akcly e  thaned   e qu'on vou at le lui cacher. L'intention de la cour
deputies of the Commons, and taken the name 6toit de r6. nir a Compiegne tous les membres des
of the National Assembly. Their popularity trois ordres qui n'avoient point favorise le systeme
and confidence had been dangerously in- des innovations, et la de leur faire consentir a la hate
creased, in the mean time, by their orators les impots et les emprunts dont elle avoit besoin,
and  pamphleteers mand the Court had become afin de les renvoyer ensuite! Comme un tel projet
and pamphleteers; and the Court had become
ne pouvoit etre second6 par M. Necker, on se prnthe object of suspicion and discontent, both by posoit de le renvoyer des que la force rnilitaire seroit
the rumour of the approach of its armies to rassemnblie. Cinquante avis par jour l'informoient
the capital, and by what Madame de Stail de sa situation, et il ne lii etoit pas possible d'en doucalls the accidental exclusion of the deputies ter; mais il savoit aussi que, dans les circonstances
from their ordinary place of meeting-which oU l'on se trouvoit alors, il ne pouvoit quitter sa
gave occasion to the celebrated and theatrical place sans confirmer les bruits qui se repandoient
oath of the Tennis-court. After all, Madame cour les me Lsures violeant resque  on pmesresoit aM. la
de Stael says. much might have been regained Necker ne voulfit pas y prendre part, mais il ne
or saved, by issuing M. Necker's declaration. vouloit pas non plus donner le signal de s'y opposer;
But the very night before it was to be deliv- et il restoit la comme une sentinelle qu'on laissoit
ered, the council was adjourned, in conse  encore a son poste, pour tromper les attaquans sur
ered, the council was adjourned, in        la manmuvre."-Vol. i. pp. 231-233.
quence of a billet from the Queen;-two new
councillors and two princes of the blood were   He continued, accordingly, to go every day
called to take part in the deliberations; and to the palace, where he was received with
it was suddenly determined, that the King cold civility; and at last, when the troops
should announce it as his pleasure, that the were all assembled, he received an order in
Three Estates should meet and vote in their the middle of the night, commanding him inthree separate chambers, as they had done stantly to quit France, and to let no one know
in 1614!                                  of his departure. This was on the night of the
M. Necker, full of fear and sorrow, refused  11th of July;- and as soon as his dismissal
to go to the meeting at which the King was was known, all Paris rose in insurrection-an
to make this important communication. It army of 100,000 men was arrayed in a night
was made, however-and received with mur- -and, on the 14th, the Bastile was demolmurs of deep displeasure; and, when the ished, and the King brought as a prisoner to
Chancellor ordered the deputies to withdraw  the Hotel de Ville, to express his approbation
to their separate chamber, they answered, of all that had been done! M. Necker, who
that they were the National Assembly, and had got as far as Brussels, was instantly rewould stay where they were! The whole called. Upwards of two millions of men took
visible population seconded this resolution, up arms throughout the country-and it was
with indications of a terrible and irresistible manifest that a great revolution was already
violence: Perseverance, it was immediately consummated!
seen, would have led to the most dreadful   There is next a series of lively and masconsequences; and the same night the Queen terly sketches of the different parties in the
entreated M. Necker to take the management Constituent Assembly, and their various leadof the State upon himself, and solemnly en- ers. Of these, the most remarkable, by far,
gaged to follow no councils but his. The was Mirabeau; who appeared in opposition
minister complied; -and immediately the to Necker, like the evil spirit of the Revoobnoxious order was recalled, and a royal lution contending with  its better angel.
mandate was issued to the Nobles and the Madame de Stael says of him, that he was
Clergy, to join the deliberations of the Tiers "Tribun par calcul, et Aristocrat par gofit."
6tat.                                      There never, perhaps, was an instance of so
If these reconciling measures had been sin- much talent being accompanied and neutralcerely followed out, the country and the mon- ized by so much profligacy.  Of all the
archy might yet perhaps have been saved. daring spirits that appeared on that troubled
But the party of the Ultrasi-" qui parloit avec scene, no one, during his life, ever dared to
beaucoup de d6dain de l'autorit6 du roi d'An- encounter him; and yet, such was his want
gleterre, et vouloit faire consid6rer comme un of principle, that no one party, and no one
attentat, la pensee de reduire un roi de France individual. trusted him with their secrets.
au mis6rable sort du monarque Britanniquen" His fearlessness, promptitude, and energy,
-this misguided party-had still too much overbore all competition; and his ambition
weight in the royal councils; and, while they seemed to be, to show how the making or the
took advantage of the calm produced by M. marring of all things depended upon his good
Necker's measures and popularity, did not pleasure. Madame de Stail confirms what
cease secretly to hasten the march of M. de has often been said of his occasional diffiBroglie with his German regiments upon Paris culty in extempore speaking, and of his ha— with the design, scarcely dissembled, of bitually employing his friends to write his
employing them  to overawe, and, if neces- speeches and letters; but, after his death,
sary, to disperse the assembly. Considering she says none of them  could ever produce
from whom  her information is derived, we for themselves any thing equal to what they
can scarcely refuse our implicit belief to the used to catch from his inspiration. In deo




DE STAEL'S FRENCH REVOLUTION.                                     221
bate, he was artful when worsted, and mer- infinite talent, truth, and pathos, in the fol.
ciless when  successful.  What he said of  lowing hasty observations.
Abb6 Maury, was true of all his opponents-    "Ils gagnerent de I'ascendant dans l'assemblee,
"Quand il a raison, nous disputons; quand il en se moquant des mod6r6s, comnie si 1;1a modra.
a tort, je bllcrase.!                           tion etoit de la foiblesse, et qu'eux seuls fussent des
Opposed to this, and finely contrasted with  caracteres forts.  On les voyoit. dans les salles et
sur los bancs des d6putes, touroier ell ridicule quiit, is the character of M. de la Fayette —the  sque    s'avisoi des deur reprsenter qidicule quiconque s'avisoit de leur representer qu'avant eux
purest, the most temperate, and therefore the  les hommes avoient exist6 en societe; que les
most inflexible friend of rational liberty in  6crivains avoient pens6, et que I'Argleterre 6toit
France.  Considering the times in which he  en possession de quelque liberte. 01 eiut dit qu'on
has lived, and the treatment he has met leur repetoit les contes de leur nourrice, tant ils
with, it is a proud thing for a nation to be  ecoutoient avec impatience, tant ils pronongoient
avec de'dain de certaines phrases bien exagerres et
able to name one of its public characters, to  bien d6cisives, sur l'impossibilit6 d'admettre un
whom  this high testimony can be borne, senat he'r6ditaire, un senat mame a vie, un veto ab
without risk of contradiction.  "Depuis le solu, une condition de propriete, enfin tout ce qui,
depart de M. de la Fayette pour l'Amerique, disoient-ils, attentoit a la souverainet6 du peuple!
il y: a quarante ans, on ne peut  citer ni une  Ils portoient lafatuite des cours dans la cause demoaction, ni une parole de lui qui n'ait t dans cratique; et plusieurs deputds du tiers etoient, tout
action,         ni une parole de lui qui nait rt6 pans a la fois, eblouis par leurs belles manieres de genla mmerne ligne, sans qu'aucun interet per- tilshommes, et captives par leurs doctrines d6mosonnel se soit jamais me616  t sa conduite."  cratiques.
The Abb6 Sieyes seems to us a little like our   " Ces chefs 616gans du parti populaire vouloient
Bentham.  At all events, this little sketch of  entrer dans le ministere. Ils souhaitoient de conhim is worth preserving.                         duire les affaires jusqu'au point oiu' on auroit besoin
d'eux; mais, dans cette rapide descente, le char ne
"Ii avoit mene jusqu'a quarante ans une vie s'arreta point a leurs relais; ils n'etoient point consolitaire, r6fl6chissant sur les questions politiques, spirateurs, mais ils se confioient trop en leur pouvoir
et portant une grande force d'abstraction dans cette sur l'assembl6e, et se flattoient de relever de trone
etude; mais ii etoit peu fait pour communiqueravec  des qu'ils I'auroient fait arriver Jusqu'a leur port6e.
les autres hommes, tant il s'irritoit ais6ment de leurs Mais, quand is voulurent de bonne  foi reparer le
travers, et tant il les blessoit par les siens. Toute- mal dja fait, il n'etoit plus  temps.  On ne sauroit
fois, comme ilavoitunesprit superieuret des faons  compter combien de desastre  auroent pu   re
de s'exprimer laconiques et tranchantes, c'6toit la epargnes a la France, si ce parti de Jeunes gens se
mode dans l'assemblee de lui montrer un respect ffit r6uni avec les moderes: car, avant les evenepresque superstitieux. Mirabeau ne demandoit pas mens du 6 Octobr, lorsque le roi n'avoit point et
mieux que d'accorder au silence de l'Abbe Sieyes enleve de Versailles, et que l'arm6e  Frangoise,
le pas sur sa propre eloquence; car ce genre de repandue dans les provinces, conservoit encore
rivalite n'est pasredoutable.  Oncroyoit a Sieyes, quelque respect pour le trone, les circonstances
r Wet oa Sieyes, Jnt telles qu'on pouvoit 6tablir une monarchie.
cet homme mysterieux, des secrets sur les con-  toient telles qu'on pouvoit  abl. i. pp. 303-monarchie
stitutions, dont on esperoit toujours des effets 6ton- raisonnable en France."-Vol. i. pp. 303-305.
nans qqand il les reveleroit.  Quelques jeunes    It is a curious proof of the vivaciousness of
gens, et meme des esprits d'une grande force, pro- vulgar prejudices, that Madame de  Stail
fessoient la plus haute admiration pour lui; et l'on should have thought it necessary, in 1816, to.
s'accordoit a le louer aux d6pens de tout autre, should have thought t necessary, in 181, to
parce qu'il ne se faisoit jamais juger en entier, dans refute  separate  chapter  the popular
aucune circonstance.  Ce qu'on savoit avec certi- opinion that..the disorders in France in 1790:
tude, c'est qu'il d6testoit les distinctions nobiliaires; and 1791 were fomented by the hiredt agents
et cependant il avoit conserve de son 6tat de pretre of England.
un attachement au clerg6, qui se manifesta le plus    There is a long and very interesting acclairement du monde lors de la suppression des count of the outrages and horrors of the 5th
dimes. Ils veulent etre libres, et ne savent pas etre
justes! disoit-il a cette occasion; et toutes les of October 1789, and of the tumultuous confautes de l'assemble'e 6toient renfermees dans ces veyance of the captive monarch from  Verparoles."-Vol. i. pp. 305, 306.                  sailles to Paris, by a murderous and infuriated
mob.  Madame de Stael was herself a specThe most remarkable party, perhaps, in the  tatress of the whole scene in the interior of
Assembly was that of the Aristocrats, con- the palace; and though there is not much that
sisting chiefly of the Nobles and Clergy, and  is new in her account, we cannot resist makabout thirty of the Commons.  In the situa- ing one little extract.  After the mob -had
tion in which they were placed, one would  filled the courts of the palace,have expected a good deal of anxiety, bitterness, or enthusiasm, from   them.  But,    "La reine parut alors dans le salon; ses cheveux
in France, things affect people differently. etoient en desordre, sa figure etoit pale, mais digne,.
in France, things affect people differently. et tout, dans sa personne, frappoit l'imagination: le
Nothing can be more characteristic than the  peuple demanda qu'elle parut sur le balcon; et,
following powerful sketch.   " Ce parti, qui comme toute la cour, appelee la cour de marbre,
avoit proteste contre toutes les resolutions de  6toit remplie d'hommes qui tenoient en main des.
I'assemblee, n'y assistoit que par prudence. armes a feu, on put apercevoir dans la physionomie
Tout ce qu'on y faisoit lui paroissoit insolent, de la reine ce qu'elle redoutoit. N6anmoins elle
s rieux! tant il trouvoit ridicule s'avanfa, sans h'siter, avec ses deuxi enfans qui lui
mais tres-peu serieux! tant il trouvoit ridicule  servoient de sauvegarde.
cette decouverte du dix-huitieme siecle, une    " La multitude parut attendrie, en voyant la reine
nation! —tandis qu'on n'avoit eu jusqu'alors comme mere, et les fureurs politiques s'apaiserent
que des nobles, des pretres, et du peuple!" — a cet aspect; ceux qui, la nuit meme, avoient, peut(Vol. i. p. 298.) They had their counterpart, 8tre voulu l'assassiner, porterent son nom jusqu'aue,
however, on the opposite side.  The specu- nues.
ow. eer, on.,   "La reine, en sortant du balcon, s'approcha de
lative, refining, and philanthropic reformers, ma mere, et lui dit, avec des sanglots touffs: 1/1
were precisely a match for them.  There is vont nous forcer, le roi et moi, a nous resndre 2 Parer
15




226                      HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
-avec les tetes de nos gardes du corps portoes de- plus fiers de leur propre me'rite que des privilegea
vant nous au bout de leurs piques! Sa prediction  de leur corps; et les plus hautes questions que
faillit s'accomplir. Ainsi la reine et le roi furent l'ordre social ait jamais fait naitre etoient traitees
amenes dans leur capitale i Nous revlnmes a Paris par les esprits les plus capables de les entendre et
par une autre route, qui nous 6loignoit de cet affreux  de les discuter.
spectacle  c'etoit a travers le bois de Boulogne que    "Ce qui nuit aux agremens de la societe en Annous passames, et le temps etoit d'une rare beaute; gleterre, ce sont les occupations et les int6rets d'un
l'air agitoit a peine les arbres, et le soleil avoit assez 6tat depuis long-temps representatif. Ce qui rend'eclat pour ne laisser rien de sombre dans la cam- doit au contraire la societe frangoise un peu superpagne: aucun objet exterieur ne r6pondoit a notre ficielle, c'6toient les loisirs de la monarchie.  Mais
tristesse. Combien de fois ce contraste, entre la tout a coup la force de la libert6 vint se meler a
beaut6 de la nature et les souffrances imposees par l'6l6gance de l'aristocratie; dans aucun pays ni
les hommes, ne se renouvelle-t-il pas dans le cours dans aucun temps, l'art de parler sous toutes ses
de la vie!                                      formes n'a e't aussi r6marquable que dans les pro"Quel spectacle en effet que cet ancien palais des mieres annees de la revolution.
Tuileries, abandonne depuis plus d'un siecle, par ses   "L'assemblee constituante, comme je l'ai d6j&
augustes hotes! La vetuste des objets exterieurs dit, ne suspendit pas un seul jour la libert6 de la
agissoit sur l'imagination, et la faisoit errer dans les presse. Ainsi ceux qui souffroient de se trouver
temps passes. Comme on 6toit loin de prevoir l'ar- constamment en minorite dans l'assemblee, avoient
riv6e de la famille royale, tres-peu d'appartemens au moins la satisfaction de se moquer de tout le;etoient habitables, et la reine avoit ete oblig6e de parti contraire. Leurs journaux faisoient de spiritfaire dresser des lits de camp pour ses enfans, dans uels calembours sur les circonstances les plus im.
la chambre meme oiu elle recevoit; elle nous en fit portantes; c'etoit l'histoire du monde chang6e en
des excuses, en ajoutant: Vous savez que je ne commerage! Tel est partout le caractere de l'aris.
m'attendois pas a venir ici. Sa physionomie 6toit tocratie des cours. C'est la dernitre fois, helas!
belle et irritee; on ne peut l'oublier quand on l'a  que l'esprit franvoise se soit montre dans tout son
vue.-Vol. i. pp. 347 —349.                       eclat; c'est la derniere fois, et a quelques egards
aussi la premiere, que la soci6te de Paris ait pu
It has always struck us as a singrular defect donner l'id~e de cette communication des esprits
in all the writers who have spoken of those  superieurs entre eux, la plus noble jouissance dont
scenes of decisive violence in the early history  la nature humaine soit capable. Ceux qui ont vecu
of the French Revolution, such as the 14th of  dans ce temps ne sauroient s'empecher davouer
July and this of the 6th of October, that they  qu'on n'a jamais vu ni tant de vie ni tant d'esprit
do not so much as attempt to explain by what nulle part; l'on peut juger, par la foule d'homrmes
do not so much as attempt to explain by what de talens que les circonstances d6velopparent alors,
instigation they were brought about-or by  ce que seroient les Frangois s'ils etoient appel6s a
whom the plan of operations was formed, and  se mller des affaires publiques dans la rout trac6e
the means for carrying it into execution pro- par une constitution sage et sincere." —Vol. i. pp.
vided.  That there was concert and prepara- 383-386.
tion in the business, is sufficiently apparent
from  the magnitude and suddenness of the    Very soon after the federation, the King enassemblage and the skill and systematic per- tered into secret communications with Miraassemblage,an                                    beau and expected by his means and those
severance with which they set about accom- beau, and expected byhis means, and those
plishing their purposes. Yet we know as little  ohimself frM. Boill the and his army  to   emancipate
at this hour, of the plotters and authors of the  himself from  the pl bo ndage in was, tohi ch he wae
mischief, as we do of the Porteous mob. held. The plan was, to retireto Compiegne;
Madame  d  Sta   contents herself withsaying  and there, by the help of the army, to purge
that these dreadful scenes signalized   lsayinav- the Assembly, and restore the royal authority.
nement des Jacobins;" but seems to excul- Madame de Stael says, that Mirabeau insisted
pate all the known leaders of that party from  for a constitution like that of England; but,
any actual concern in the transaction;-and  as an armed force was avowedly the organ by
which he was to act, one may be permitted
yet it was that transaction that subverted the  which he was to act, one may be permitted
monarchy!                                        to doubt, whether he could seriously expect
Then came the abolition of titles of no- this to be granted.  In the mean time, the
bility-the institution of a constitutional cler- policy of the King was to appear to agree to
gy-and  the federation  of 14th July 1790. every thing; and, as this appeared to M.
In spite of the storms and showers of blood  Necker, who was not in the secret, to be an
which we have already noticed, the political unjustifiable abandonment of himself and the
horizon, it seems, still looked bright in the  country, he tendered his resignation, and was
allowed to retire —and then followed the death
eyes of France.  The following picture is allowedtoretire andthenfollowedthedeath
lively-and is among the traits which history  of Mirabeau, and shortly after the flight and
does not usually preserve-and which, what apprehension of the King-the revision of
the constitution-and the dissolution of the
she does preserve, certainly would not enable  Constituent Assembly, with a self-denying orfuture ages to conjecture.                      dinance declaring that none of its members
"Les 6trangers ne sauroient concevoir le charme should be capable of being elected into the
et l'e'clat tant vante de la societ6 de Paris, s'ils next legislature.
n'ont vu la France que depuis vingt ans: Mais                   on                     the emi
pqut dire avec ve'rite', que jamais cette socite' n'a
ete aussi brillante et aussi serieuse tout ensemble, grationof 1791 —that emigration, in the spirit
que pendant les trois ou quatre premieres annees de of party and of bon ton, which at once exasperla revolution, a compter de 1788 jusqu'a la fin de ated and strengthened the party who ought to
1791.  Comme les affaires politiques etoient encore have been opposed, and irretrievably injured a
entre les mains de la premiere classe, toute la vigueur cause which was worse than deserted, when
de la liberte et toute la grace de la politesse ancienne foreigners were called in to support it.  Mase reunissoient dans les memes personnes. Les
hommes du tiers etat, distingues par leurs lumieres dame de Stael is decidedly of opinionl that
et leurs talens, se joignoient a ces gentilshommes the Nobles should have staid, and resisted




DE STAEL'S FRENCH REVOLUTION.                                   227what was wrong-or submitted to it. " Mais les rangs en d6sordre, il revint s'asseoir aupres de
Ils ont trouv6 plus simple dninvoquer la gen- la reine et de ses enfans. Depuis ce jour, le peuple
darmerie Europ~enne, afin de mettre Paris a ne l'a plus revu-que sur l'chafaud!"
raison."  The fate of their country, which                                 Vol. ii. pp. 54, 55.
ought to have been thein  only concern, was    Soon after, the allies entered France; the
aiways a secondary object, in their eyes, to King refused to take shelter in the army of
the triumph of their own opinions —" ils l'ont M. de la Fayette at Compiegne. His palace
voulu comme un jaloux sa maitresse-fidelle  was stormed, and his guards butchered, on
au morte, "-and seem  rather to have con- the 10th of August.  He was committed to
sidered themselves as allied to all the other the Temple, arraigned  and executed! and
nobles of Europe, than as a part of the French  the reign of terror, with all its unspeakable
nation.                                        atrocities, ensued.
The Constituent Assembly made more laws    We must pass over much of what is mo'st
in two years than the English parliament had  interesting in the book before us; for we find,
done in two hundred.  The succeeding as- that the most rapid sketch we can trace would
sembly made as many-with this difference, draw us into great length.  Madame te Stael
that while the former aimed, for the most thinks that the war was nearly unavoidable
part, at general reformation, the last were all on the part of England; and, after a brief
personal and vindictive.  The speculative re- character of our Fox and Pitt, she says,
publicans were for some time the leaders of   " I1 pouvoit etre avantageux toutefois a l'Anglethis industrious body — and Madame de Stael, terre que M. Pitt filt le chef de I'6tat dans la crise la
in describing their tone  and temper while in  plus dangereuse ou ce pays se soit trouve; mais il
power, has given a picture of the political ne l'etoit pas moins, quun esprit aussi etendu que
tractability of her countrymen, which could  celui de M. Fox soutint les principes malgr6 les
circonstances; et sft preserver les dieux penates
scarcely have been endured from a straneger. des amis de la liberte, au milieu de l'incendie. Ce
" Aucun argument, aucune inquietude n'toient n'est point pour contenter les deux partis que je les
kcoutes par ses chefs. Ils rfpondoient aux obser- loue ansi tous les deux, quoiqu'ils aient soutenu
I   des opinions tres-opposees. Le %ontraire en France
vations de la sagesse, et de la sagesse d6sinteressee, des opnions trs-opposes. Le ontraire en France
par un sourire moqueur, symptfme de I'aridit6 qui
resulte de l'amour-propre: On s'6epuisoit &a leur sont presque toujours e'galement blaniables: Mais
rappeler les circonstances, et a leur en deduire les dans un pays libre, les partisans du ministere et
causes; on passoit tour a tour de la theorie a l'ex- les membres de lopposition peuvent avoir tous raiperience, et de l'experience a la theorie, pour leur son a leur maniere; et ils font souvent chacun du
en montrer l'identite; et, s'ils consentoient a re'- bien selon l'epoque.  Ce qui importe seulement,
pondre, ils nioient les faits les plus authentiques, c'est de ne pas prolonger le pouvoir acquis par
et combattoient les observations les plus 6videntes, la lutte, apres que le danger est passe."
en y opposant quelques maximes communes, bien                                 Vol. ii. p. 113.
qu'exprimees avec 6loquence. Ils se regardoient   There is an excellent chapter on the exentre eux, comme s'ils avoient 6te seuls dignes cesses of the parties and the people of France
de s'entendre, et s'encourageoient par l'id6e que at this period;  which she refers to the sudden
tout 6toit pusillanimite dans la resistance a leur at tis period; which she refers to the sudden
maniere de voir. Tels sont les signes de l'esprit exasperation of those principles of natural
de parti chez les Frangois! Le dedain pour leurs hostility by which the high and the low are
adversaires en est la base, et le d6dain s'oppose always in some degree actuated, and which
touJours a la connoissance de la v6rit6."-;' Mais are only kept from  breaking out by the mudans les d6bats politiques," she adds, " ou la masse tual concessions which the law  in ordinary
d'une nation prend part, il n'y a que la voix des t
evenemens qui soit entendue; les argumens n'in-  mes, exacts from both parties. The law was
spirent que le desir de leur r6pondre."        now annihilated in that country, and the natu
The King, who seemed for a time to have  ral antipathies were called into uncontrolled
The  Kign g~who seem ed  for a  time to have  activity; the intolerance of one party having
resigned himself to his fate, was roused at no longer actiny check but the intolerance of one party having
last to refuse his assent to certain brutal de-             the other.
crees against the recusant priests-and his
palace and his person were immediately in-   "' Les querelles des patriciens et des plebefiens,
vaded by a ferocious mob-and he was soon  la guerre des esclaves, celle des paysans, celle qui
after compelled with all his family to assist at dure encore entre les nobles et les bourgeois, toutes
the anniversary of the 14th July, where, ex- ont eu 6galement pour origine la difficulte de maintenir la socidi6 humaine, sans ddsordre et sans incept the plaudits of a few  children, every  justice. Les hommes ne pourroent exister aujourthing was dark and menacing. The following d'hui, ni separfes, ni r6unis, si le respect de la loi no
few lines appear to us excessively touching.  s'etablissoit pas dans les tetes: tous les crimes naltroient de la soci6te meme qui doit les prevenir.
"Il falloit le caractere de Louis XVI., ce carac- Le pouvoir abstrait des gouvernemens representatere de martyr qu'il n'a jamais dementi, pour sup- tifs n'irrite en rien l'orgueil des hommes; et
porter ainsi une pareille situation. Sa maniere de c'est par cette institution que doivent s'eteindre
marcher, sa contenance avoient quelque chose de les flambeaux des furies. Ils se sont allumds
particulier. Dans d'autres occasions, on auroit pu dans un pays ou tout etoit amour-propre; et
ui souhaiter plus de grandeur; mais il suffisoit dans l'amour-propre irrite, chez le peuple, ne ressemble
ce moment de rester en tout le meme, pour paroitre poit a nos nuances fugitives; c'est le besoin de
sublime. Je suivis de loin sa tete poudree au mi- donner la mort!
lieu de ces tetes a cheveux noirs; son habit, encore    " Des massacres, non moins affreux que ceux de
brode comme jadis, ressortoit a cote du costume la terreur, ont ete commis au nom de la religion;
des gens du peuple qui se pressoient autour de lui. la race humaine s'est 6puis6e pendant plusieurs
Quand il monta les d6gr6s de l'autel, on crut voir siecles en efforts inutiles pour contraindre tous les
la victime sainte, s'offrant volontairement en sacri- hommes a la meme croyance. Un tel but ne poufice! II redescendit; et, traversant de nouveau voit gtre atteint; et l'id6e la plus simple, la tol6.




228                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
rance, telle que Guillaume Penn l'a professee, a cussed, we do think it has never been half sa
banni pour toujours, du nord de l'Amerique, le well described as in the volumes before us.
fanatisme dont le midi a ete l'affreux theatre. Il en We shall venture on a pretty long extract, be
est de memne du fanatisme politique; la liberte seule  W e          on a pretty long extractf be.
peut le calmner. Apres un certain temps, quelques ginning with the account of their first inter.
ve6rit6s ne seront plus contest6es; et I'on parlera view; for on this, as on most other subjects
des vieilles institutionscomme des ancienssystemes Madame de Stael has the unspeakable adde physique, entierement effaces par l'evidence des vantage of writing from her own observation.
faits." -Vol. ii. p. 115-118.                  After mentioning the great popularity he had
We can afford to say nothing of the Direc- acquired by his victories in Italy, and the
tory, or of the successes of the national army; peace by which he had secured them  at
but it is impossible to pass quite over the 18th  Campo Formio she saysFructidor (4th September) 1797, when the
I" C'est avec ce sentiment, du toins, que je le vis
majority of the Directory sent General Auge- pour la premiere l ois e     Paris. J e n e troua le pas de
reau with an armed force to disperse the legis- paroles pour lui repondre, quand il vint a moi me
lative bodies, and arrest certain of their mem- dire qu'il avoit cherche mon pere a Coppet, et qu'il
bers.  This step Madame de Stail considers regrettoit d'avoir passe en Suisse sans le voir. Mais,
as the beginjning~ of that system  of military  lorsque je fus un peu remise du trouble de l'admiration, un sentiment de crainte tres-prononc6 lui
despotism  which was afterwards carried so succ'da! Bonaparte alors n'avoit aucune puisfar; and seems seriously to believe, that, if sance; on le croyoiteas  avot menacne par les
it had not been then adopted, the reign of law  soupSons ombrageux du directoire; ainsi, la crainte
might yet have been restored, and the usurpa- qu'il inspiroit n'etoit causee que par le singulier
tion of Bonaparte prevented. To us it seems effet de sa personne sur presque tous ceux qui l'approchent! J'avois vu des hommes tr~s-dignes de
infinitely more probable, that the Bourbons prochent   J'avois vu des hommes troes-dignis de
would then have been brought back without respect; j'avois vu aussi des hommes feroces: il n'y
would then have been brought back without avoit rien dans l'impression que Bonaparte produisit
any conditions-or rather, perhaps, that a sur moi, qui pfit me rappeler ni les uns ni les autres.
civil war, and a scene of far more sanguinary  J'apergus assez vite, dans les diffdrentes occasions
violence would have ensued.  She does not quej'eus de le rencontrer pendant son s6jour a Paris,
dispute that the royalist party was very strong que son caractere ne pouvoit etre d6fini par les mots
in both the councils; but seems to think, that dont nous avons coutume de nous servir; il n'etoit
ni bon, ni violent, ni doux, ni cruel, a la fagon
an address or declaration by the army would  des individus a nous connus. Un tel etre n'ayant
have discomfited them more becomingly than  point de pareil, ne pouvoit ni ressentir, ni faire
an actual attack.  We confess we are not so eprouver aucune sympathie. C'etoit plus ou moinls
delicate. Law and order had been sufficiently  qu'un homme! Sa tournure, son esprit, son lantrodden on already, by the Jacobin clubs and  gage sont empreints d'une nature etrangere-avanrevolutionary tribunals;nd                 tage de plus pour subjuguer les Frangois, ainsi que
revolutionary tribunals; and the battalions of nous l'avons dit ailleurs.
General Augereau were just as well entitled    II Loin de me rassurer en voyant Bonaparte plus
to domineer as the armed sections and butch- souvent, il m'intimidoit toujours davantage!  Je
ering mobs of Paris.  There was no longer, sentois confusement qu'aucune emotion de cmsur ne
in short, any sanctity or principle of civil right pouvoit agir sur lui. I1 regarde une creature huacknowledged; and it was time that the force  maine comme un fait ou comme une chose, mais
and terror which had substantially reigned for no coaime. IIn    a que lui pour lui; tout le reste
three years, should appear in their native  des creatures sont des chiffres. La force de sa vocolours. They certainly became somewhat lonte consiste dans l'imperturbable calcul de son
less atrocious when thus openly avowed.        egoisme; c'est un habile joueur d'echecs, dont le
We come at last to Bonaparte-a name that genre humain est la partie adverse qu'il se propose
de faire echec et mat. Ses succes tiennent autant
will go down to posterity, and of whom it is aux qualites que lui manquent, qu'aux talens qu'il
not yet clear, perhaps, how  posterity will possede. Ni la pitie, ni l'attrait, ni la religion, ni
judge. The greatest of conquerors, in an age  l'attachement a une ide'e quelconque ne sauroient;w-hen great conquests appeared no longer le detourner de sa direction principale. II est pour
possible —the  most splendid of usurpers,  son interAt, ce que le juste doit 8tre pour la vertu:
where usurpation had not been heard of for si le but etoit bon, sa perseverance seroit belle.
entered in triumph almost all   "Cheque fois que je l'entendois parler, j'6tois
centuries-who entered in triumph almost all frapp6e de sa sup6riorit6.  Elle n'avoit pourtant
the capitals of Continental Europe; and led, aucun rapport avec celle des hommes instruits et
at last, to his bed, the daughter of her proud- cultives par l'etude ou la societe, tels que 1'Angleest sovereign-who set up kings and put them  terre et la France peuvent en offrir des exemples.
Mais ses discours. indiquoient le tact des circondown at his pleasure, and. for sixteen years, stances, comme le bbasseur.a celde sa p
defied alike the sword of his foreign enemies stances, comme le chasseur a celui de sa proie.
defied alike the sword of  s foreign enemies Quelquefois il racontoit les faits politiques et miliand the daggers of his domestic factions! taires de sa vie d'une fagon tres-int6ressante; il
This is a man on whom  future generations avoit mame, dans les re'cits qui permettoient de la
must yet sit in judgment.  But the evidence gaiete, un peu de l'imagination italienne. Cepen.
by which they are to judge must be trans- d ant rien ne pouvoit triompher de mon invincible
tnitted to them  by his contemporaries.  Ma- eloignement pour ce que j'apercevois en li. Je
dame de Stael, has collected a great deal of sentois dans son ame une epee froide et tranchante
dame de Steal has collected a great deal of.qui glagoit en blessant! Je sentois dans son esprit
this evidence; and has reported it, we think, une ironie profonde a laquelle rien de grand ni de
o:.L the whole. in a tone of great impartiality: beau, pas meme sapropre gloire, ne pouvoit chapthor-gh not without some indications of per- per: Car il meprisoit la nation dont il vouloit les
sonal dislike.  Her whole talents seem to be sufrages, et nulle etincelle d'enthousiasme ne se
roused and concentrated when she begins to meloit a son besoin d'etonner l'espece humaine.
rou    sed and concentraoted   w    hen she begins to    "Ce fut dans l'intervalle entre le retour de Bonaspeak of this extraordinary man; and much  parte et son depart pour l'Egypte, c'est-a-dire, vera
and ably as his character has been lately dis- la fin de 1797, que je le vis plusieurs foie a Paris;




DE STAEL'S FRENCH REVOLUTION.                                     229
at jamais la difficulte de respirer que j'eprouvois en  captive beaucoup de gens.  A cette meme epoque,
sa presence ne put se dissiper. J'6tois un jour a je revis encore quelquefois Bonaparte en soci6t6, et
table entre luiet l'abbe Sieyes: singuliere situation, it me parut toujours profonddment occupe des rap.;l j'avois pu prevoir l'avenir! J'examinois avec ports qu'il vouloit etablir entre lui et les autres
attention la figure de Bonaparte; mais chaque fois hommes, les tenant a distance ou les rapprochanr
qu'il decouvroit en moi des regards observateurs, de lui, suivant qu'il croyoit se les attacher plus
il avoit l'art d'oter a ses yeux toute expression, sfirement. Quand il se trouvoit avec les directeurs
comme s'ils fussent devenus de marbre. Son visage surtout, ii craignoit d'avoir l'air d'un g6neral sous
etoit alors immobile; excepte un sourire vague qu'it les ordres de son gouvernement, et ii essayoit tour
plagoit sur ses levres a tout hasard, pour d6router a tour dans ses manieres, avqc cette sorte de supequiconque voudroit observer les signes exterieurs rieurs, la dignit6 on la familiarite; mais it manquoit
de sa pensee.                                    le ton vrai de l'une et de l'autre.  C'est un homme
"Sa figure, alors maigre et pale, etoit assez qui ne sauroil etre naturel que dans le commandeagreabie; depuis, it est engraisse, ce qui lui va ment."-Vol. ii. pp. 211, 212.
tres-mal: car on a besoin de croire un tel homme
tourmente par son caractere, pour tolerer un peu    The following remark relates rather to the
9que ce caractere fasse tellement souffrir les autres. French nation than their ruler.  We quote it
Comme sa stature est petite, et cependant sa taille for its exquisite truth rather than its severity.
fort longue, il etoit beaucoup mieux a cheval qu'a
fort tongue, ii 6toit beaucoup mieux a cheval qu'a    " Sa conversation avec le Mufti dans la pyraride
pied; en tout, c'est la guerre, et seulement la guerre  de Chos devoit enchanter le Mufti dans la  pyramide
qui lui sied. Sa maniere d'etre dans la soci6te est de Ch6ops devoit enchanter  les  Parisiens; parce
genee sans timidite. It a quelque chose de dedaig- qu'elle r6unissoit les deux choses qui les captivent:
neux quand it se contient, et de vulgaire, quand il un certain genre de grandeur, et de la moquerie
se met a l'aise. Le dedain lui va mieux-aussi ne  tout ensemble. Les Franqois sont bien aises d'tre
s'en fait-il pas faute.                          emus, et de rire de ce qu'ils sont 6mus! Le char"Par une vocation naturelle pour l'e'tat de prince, latanisme leur plait, et ils aident volontiers a se
it adressoit deja des questions insignifiantes a tous tromper eux-mrmes; pourvu qu'il leur soit permis,
ceua qu'on lui presentoit.   Etes-vous marie  de- tout en se conduisant comme des dupes, de monmandoit-il   l'un des convivesives.  Combien avez- trer par quelques bon mots que pourtant ils ne le
vous d'enfans? disoit-il a l'autre. Depuis quand  sont pas."-Vol. ii. p. 228.
Ates-vous arrive?  Quand partez-vous? Et autres   On his return from Egypt it was understood
interrogations de ce genre, qui viablissent la spe- by every body that he was to subvert the exriorit6 de celui qui les fait sur celui qui veut bien se
laisser questionner ainsi.                       isting constitution. But he passed five weeks
"Je l'ai vu un jour s'approcher d'une Franqoise at Paris in a quiet and apparently undecided
tres-connue par sa beaut6, son esprit et la vivacite way-and, with all this preparatory study,
de ses opinions; il se plaga tout droit devant elle acted his part but badly after all.  Nothing
comme le plus roide des generaux allemands, et can be more curious than the following pasluidit:'adame,       aim  pas que les fainnes    sage.  When he had at last determined to
mrlent de solitique.'-' Votus avez raison, geinral,'
lui repon it-elle:'mais dans un pays ou on leur put down the Directory —
coupe la te"te, il est naturel qu'elles aient envie de
savoir pourquoi.'  Bonaparte alors ne repliqua 
rien.  C'est un homme que la resistance veritable  cinq cents, les bras crois6s, avec un air tres-sombre,
et suivi de deux grands grenadiers qui proteoient
apaise; ceux qui ont souffert son despotisme, doi-  suivi de deug grands grenadiers qui protegeoient
u mp  etite stature.  Les ddput's appelds jacobins
vent en gtre autant accuses que lui-meme."       sa pette statur              e        s
c Vol. ii. pp. 198-204qa  pousscrent des hurlemens en le voyant entrer dans
la salle; son frele Lucien, bien heureusement pour
The following little anecdote is every way  lui, etoit alors president; it agitoit en vain la son
characteristic.                                  nette pzur retablir l'ordre; les cris de tra'tre et
d'usurpateur se faisoient entendre de toutes parts;
" Un soir i parlolt avee Barras de son ascendant et I'un des deputes, compatriote de Bonaparte, le
sur les peuples italiens, qui avoient voulu le faire corse Ar6na, s'approcha de ce general et le secoua
due de Milan et roi d'Italie.' Ilais je ne pense,' fortement par le colfet de son habit. On a suppose,
dit-il,' a rien de semblable dans aucun pays.'- mais sans fondement, qu'il avoit un poignard pour
Fous faites bien de n'y pas songer en France,' le tuer. Son action cependant effraya Bonaparte;
repondit Barras;' car, si le directoire vous envoyoit et il dit aux grenadiers qui etoient a cote de lui, ea
demain au Temple, il n'y auroit pas quatre person- laissant tomber sa tete sur l'epaule de l'un d'eux:
nes qui s'y opposassent. Bonaparte etoit assis sur' Tirez-moi d'ici!' Les grenadiers l'enleverent du
un canape a cote de Barras: a ces paroles il s'e- milieu des deputes qui l'entouroient; ils le portelan{a vers la cheminee, n'6tant pas maitre de son  rent hors de la salle en plein air; et, de's qu'il y fut,
irritation; puis, reprenant cette espece de calme  sa presence d'esprit lui revint. II monta a cheval
apparent dont les hommes les plus passiones parmi a l'instant mmea; et, parcourant les rangs de ses
les habitans du Midi sont capables, il d6clara qu'il grenadiers, it les determina bientot a ce qu'il vouvouloit gtre charge d'une expedition militaire.  Le  loit d'eux. Dans cette circonstance, comme dans
directoire lui proposa la descente en Angleterre; it beaucoup d'autres, on a remarque que Bonaparte
alla visiter les cotes; et reconnoissant b'ientot que ponvoit se troubler quand un autre danger que celui
cette expedition 6toit insensee, it revint decide a de la guerre etoit en face de lui; et quclques
tenter la conquete de l'Egypte."                 personnes en ont conclu bien ridiculement qu'il
Vol. ii. pp. 207, 208.   manquoit de courage.  Certes on ne peut nier son
audace; mais, comme il n'est rien, pas mgme
We must add a few miscellaneous passages, audace; mais, comm   i'est   n, pas mme
to develope a little farther this extraordinary  brave, d'uiie fagon genereuse, it s'ensuit qu'il ne
to develope a little farther this extraordinary  s'expose jamais que quand cela peut &tre utile. II
character. Madame de Stael had a long con- seroit tre's-ffichQ d'etre tud, parce "que c'est un reversation with him  on the state of Switzer- vers, et qu'il veut en tout du succes. I en seroit
land, in which he seemed quite insensible to  aussi fach6, parce que la mort deplait a son imany feelings of generosity.                      agination: Malis il n'hesite pas a hasarder sa vie.
lorsque, suivant sa maniere de voir, la partie vaut
" Cette conversation," however, she adds, " me le risque de l'enjeu, s'il est permis de s'exprimei
fit cependant concevoir l'agr6ment qu'on peut lui ainsi."-Vol. ii. pp. 240-242.
trouver quand ii prend l'air bonhommne, et parle
comme d'une chose simple de lui-meme et de ses    Although he failed thus strangely in the
projets.  Cet art, le plus redoutable de tous, a theatrical pait of the business, the substantial




230                     HISTOhY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
part was effectually done.  He sent in a citizenship and equality to one set of hearers,
column of grenadiers with fixed bayonets at and of the sacred rights of sovereigns to an.
one end of the hall of the great council, and  other.  He extended the same unprincipled
made them  advance steadily to the other; dissimulation to the subject of religion.  To
driving the unhappy senators, in their fine the prelates with whom he arranged his celeclassical draperies, before them, and forcing  brated Concordat, he spoke in the most serithem to leap out of the windows, and scam- ous manner of the truth and the awfulness of
per through the gardens in these strange  the Gospel; and to Cabanis and the philosohabiliments! Colonel Pride's purge itself was phers, he said, the same evening,-"- Saveznot half so rough in its operation.            vous ce que c'est la Concordat l  C'est la
There was now an end, not only of liberty, Vaccine de la Religion-dans cinquante ans il
but of republican tyranny; and the empire of n'y aura plus en France!"  He resolved,
the sword in the hand of one man, was sub- however, to profit by it while it lasted; and
stantially established.  It is melancholy to  had the blasphemous audacity to put this,
think, but history shows it to be true, that the  among other things, into the national catemost abject servitude is usually established  chism, approved of by the whole Gallican
at the close of a long, and even generous church:-" Qu. Que doit-on penser de ceux
struggle for freedom; partly, no doubt, be- qui manqueroient a leur devoir envers l'Emcause despotism offers an image of repose to  pereur Napoleon     Reponse. Quails resistethose who are worn out with contention, but roient a l'ordre etabli de Dieu lui-meme-et
chiefly because that military force to which  se rendroient dignes de la damnation iternelle!'
all parties had in their extremity appealed,   With the actual tyranny of the sword began
naturally lends itself to the bad ambition of a the more pitiful persecution of the slavish
fortunate commander.  This it was which  journals-the wanton and merciless infliction
made the fortune of Bonaparte.  His answer of exile on women and men of letters-and
to all remonstrances was-" Voulez-vous que  the perpetual, restless, insatiable interference
je vous livre aux Jacobins?-W  But his true  in the whole life and conversation of every
answer was, that the army was at his de- one of the slightest note or importance.  The
votion, and that he defied the opinion of the  following passages are written, perhaps, with
nation.                                        more bitterness than any other in the book;
He began by setting up the Consulate: But but they appear to us to be substantially just.
from  the very first. says Madame de Stael,   "Bonaparte, lorsqu'il disposoit d'un  million
assumed the airs and the tone of royalty.       d'hommes armes, n'en attachoit pas moins d'im"11 prit les Tuileries pour sa demeure; et ce fut portance a l'art de guider l'esprit public par les
un coup de partie que le choix de cette habitation. gazettes; il dictoit souvent lui-meme des articles de
On avoit vu la le roi de France; les habitudes mon- journaux qu'on pouvoit reconnoitre aux saccades
archiques y (etoient encore presentes  tous les yeux, violentes du style. On voyoit qu'il auroit voulu
et il suffisoit, pour ainsi dire, de laisser faire les mettre dans ce qu'il 6crivoit, des coups au lieu de
murs pour tout retablir. Vers les derniers jours du mots! II a dans tout son etre un fond de vulgarit6
dernier siecle, je vis entrer le premier consul dans que le gigantesque de son ambition meme ne sauroit
ce palais bati par les rois; et quoique Bonaparte fit toujours cacher. Ce n'est pas qu'il ne sache tresbien loin encore de la magnificence qu'il a develop- bien, un jour.donne, se montrer avec beaucoup de
pee depuis, l'on voyoit d6ja dans tout ce qui l'en- convenance; mais il n'est a son aise que dans le
touroit un empressement de se faire courtisan a m6pris pour les autres, et, des-qu'il petit y rentrer,
l'orientale, qui dut lui persuader que gouverner la il s'y complait. Toutefois ce n'etoit pas uniqueterre 6toit chose bien facile. Quand sa voiture fut ment par gofit qu'il se livroit a faire servir, dans ses
arrivee dans la cour des Tuileries, ses valets ouvri- notes du Moniteur, le cynisme de la revolution au
rent la portiere et pr6cipiterent le marchepied avec maintien de sa puissance. I1 ne permettoit qu'a lui
une violence qui sembloit dire que les choses phy- d'~tre jacobin en France.-Vol. ii. p. 264.
siques elles-memes etoient insolentes quand elles  J fus          re femmeque Bonaparte exila
retardoient un instant la marche de leur maitre! Lui  fus la prembire femme qui Bonaparte exila;
ne retgardoit ninstant remercioit personne  commit   s'il Mais bientot apres i en bannit un grand nombre,
ne regardoit ni ne remercioit personne; conme s'il d'opinionsopposees.  D'ofi venoit ce luxe en fait de
avoit craint qu'on pfit le croire sensible aux hom- d'opinionsopposees.   venoitce    en faitde
m6chancet6, si ce n'est d'une sorte de haine contre
mages meme qu'il exigeoit. En montant l'escalier tonsehietresindpendans? Etcort   s.femmes,
au milieu de la foule qui se pressoit pour le suivre, dune part, ne pouvoient servir en nen ses dessens
d'une part, ne pouvoient servir en rien ses desseins
ss yeux n s portoentn   sur aucun objet, ni sur politiques, et que, de l'autre, elles 4toient moins acaucune personne en particulier. I1 y avoit quelque cessibles qu s homes aux craintes et aux esp6chose de vague et d'insouciant dans sa physionomie,    ces dont l pouvoir est dispensateur, elles lui
et ses regards n'exprimoient que ce qu'il lui con- rances d     le pouvor est dispensateur, elles lui
donnoient de l'humeur comme des rebelles, et il se
vient toujours de montrer,-l'indiffdrence pour le psoit a     de des choses blessantes et vulsort, itt lit dedain pour hits hommes."  pour lit plaisoit a leur dire des choses blessantes et vulsort, et le de'dain pour les ho s. 258 259    gaires. I1 haissoit autant l'esprit de chevalerie qu'il
recherchoit l'etiquette: c'etoit faire un mauvais
He had some reason, indeed, to despise  choix parmi les anciennes mceurs. I1 lui restoit
men. from the specimens he had mostly about aussi de ses premieres habitudes pendant la revolunim: For his adherents were chiefly desert- tion, une certaine antipathie jacobine contre la soers from the royalist or the republican party; ciete brillante de Paris; sur laquelle les femmes
— ters  first willing totransfer the ir servility2 exergoient beaucoup d'ascendant.~ II redoutoit en
- -the first willing to transfer their servility to elles I'art de la plaisanterie, qui, l'on doit en cona aew dynasty,-the latter to take the names venir, appartient particulierement aux Frangoises.
and emoluments of republican offices from  Si Bonaparte avoit voulu s'en tenir au superbe role
the Hland of a plebeian usurper.  For a while  de grand general et de premier magistrat de la r6he thought it prudent to dissemble with each; publique, i auroit plane de toute la hauteur du
and, with that utter contempt of truth which  genie au-dessus des petits traits aceres de l'esprit
de salon. Mais quand il avoit le dessein de se faire
belonged to his scorn of mankind, held, in the  un roi parvenu, un bourgeois gentilhomme su  he
same day, the most edifying discourses of trone, il s'exposoit pr6cis6ment a la moquerie du




DE STAEL'S FRENCH REVOLUTION.                                      231
Don ton, et ii ne pouvoit la cornprimer, comme ii que les flatteries serviles; parce que, dans les unes,
"a fait, que par l'espionage et la terreur."     on n'auroit vu que son merite, tandis que les autres
Vol. ii. pp. 306, 307.   attestoient son autorite. En gen6ral, ii a prefere
la puissance a la gloire; car l'action de la force lui
The thin mask of the Consulate was soon  plaisoit trop pour qu'il s'occupa de la post6rit6,
thrown off —and the Emperor appeared in his sur laquelle on ne penut l'exercer."
proper habits. The following remarks, though                                Vol. ii. pp. 399-401.
not all applicable to the same period, appear    There are some fine remarks on the baseto us to be admirable.
ness of those who solicited employment and
"Bonaparte avoit lu l'histoire d'une maniere favours under Bonaparte, and have since joinconfuse. Peu accoutume a l'etude, ii se rendoit ed the party of the Ultras, and treated the
beaucoup moins compte de ce qu'il avoit appris whole Revolution as an atrocious rebelliondans les livres, que de ce qu'il avoit recueilli par and a very clear and masterly view  of the
l'observation des hommes. I1 n'en etoit pas moins policy by which that great commander subrestd dans sa tdte un certain respect pour Attila et dued the greater part of Continental Europe.
pour Charlemagne, pour les lois feodales et pour le But  e ca         n afford no room now for any furope.
despotisme de l'Orient, qu'il appliquoit a tort et a But we can aord no room now for any further
travers, ne se trompant jamais, toutefois, sur ce account of them.  As a general, she says, he
qui servoit instantanement a son pouvoir; mais du  was prodigal of the lives of his soldiersreste, citant, blamant, louant et raisonnant comme  haughty and domineering to his officers-and
le hasard le conduisoit.  Il parloit ainsi des heures utterly regardless of the miseries he inflicted
entieres avec d'autant plus d'avantage, que per- on the countries which were the scenes of
sonne ne l'interrompoit, si ce n'est par les applaudissemens involontaires qui echappent toujours his operations.  The following anecdote is
dans des occasions semblables.  Une chose singu- curious-and to us original.
liere, c'est que, dans la conversation, plusieurs
officiers Bonapartistes ont emprunte de leur chef    "On l'a vt dans la guerre d'Autriche, on 1809
officie   e Bonalmatias  qui vritablemprunt de leur chef  quitter l'ile de Lobau, quandil jugeoit la bataille
eet hero'aue galimatias, qui v'ritablement ne sig-; perdue. I traversa le Danube, seul avee M. de
nifie rien qu' a la tete de huit cent mille hommes."  perdue. I traversa     Danube, sul avc M. d
Vol. ii. pp. 332, 333.   Czernitchef, l'un des intr6pides aides de camp de
Vol. ii. pp. 332, 333.'empereur de Russie, et le marechal Berthier.
" II fit occuper la plupart des charges de sa mai- L'empereur leur dit assez tranquillement qu'apres
son par des Nobles de l'ancien re'gime; il aimoit avoir gagne quarante batailles, il n'etoitpas extrales flatteries des courtisans d'autrefois. parce qu'ils  ordinaire d'en perdre une; et lorsqu'il fut arrive
B'entendoient mieux a cet art que les hommes nou- de l'autre cote du fleuve, il se coucha et dormit
veaux, meme les plus empresses.  Chaque fois jusqu'au lendemain matin! sans s'informer du sort
qu'unl gentilhomme de l'ancienne cour rappeloit de l'armee frangoise, que ses generaux sauverent
l'6tiquette du temps jadis, proposoit une reverence  pendant son sommeil."-Vol. ii. p. 358.
de plus, une certaine fagon de frapper a la porte
de quelque anti-chambre, une maniere plus cere-    Madame de Staeil mentions several other
monieuse de presenter une dep8che, de plier une  instances of this faculty of sleeping in molettre, de la terminer par telle ou telle formule, ilments of great apparent anxiety.  The most
toit accueilli comme s'il avoit fait faire des progres  remarkable is that he fell fast asleep before
au bonheur de l'espece humaine! Le code de l'eti-    a,              fast asleep before
quette imperiale est le document le plus remarqu- taking the field in 1814, while endeavouring
able de la bassesse a laquelle on peut reduire  to persuade one of his ministers that he had
l'espece humaine."-Vol. ii. pp. 334, 335.         no chance of success in the approaching cam" Quand il y avoit quatre cents personnes dans paign, but must inevitably be ruined!
son salon, un aveugle auroit pu s'y croire seul, tant    She has extracted from  the Moniteur of
le silence qu'on observoit 6toit profobnd!  Les July 1810, a very singular proof of the aumarechaux ae France, au milieu des fatigues de                            very early proclaimed
guerre, au moment de la crise d'une bataille, en- his own selfish and ambitious views. It is
troient dans la tente de l'empereur pour lui demander ses ordres,-et il ne leur 6toit pas permis a  public letter addressed  by him  to his
de s'y asseoir! Sa famille ne souffroit pas moins nephew, the young Duke of Berg, in which
que les etrangers de son despotisme et de sa hau- he says, in so many words, " N'oubliez jateur. Lucien a mieux aime vivre prisonnier en  mais, que vos premiers devoirs sont envers
Angleterre que regner sous les ordres de son frere.          seconds envers
Louis Bonaparte, dont le caractere est generale- envers les peuples que    pourros vouFran     conment estime, se vit constraint par sa probite meme, envers les peuples que je pourrois vous cona renoncer a la couronne de Hollande; et, le croi- fier ne viennent qu'apres."  This was at
roit. on? quand il causoit avec son frere pendant least candid-and in his disdain for mankind,
deux heures tete-a-tite, force par sa mauvaise sante a sort of audacious candour was sometimes
de s'appuyer peniblement contre la muraille, N    alternated with his duplicity.
polson ne lui offroit pas une chaise! il demeuroit
lui-meme debout, de crainte que quelqu'un n'euit   "Un principe general, quel qu'il ffit, d6plaisoit
l'idee de se familiariser assez avec lui, pour s'asseoir a Bonaparte; comme une niaiserie, ou comme un
en sa presence.                                   ennemi. Il n'6toit point sanguinaire, mais indiffe" Le peur qu'il causoit dans les derniers temps rent a la vie des hommes. Il ne la consideroit que
6toit telle, que personne ne lui adressoit le premier comme un moyen d'arriver a son but, ou comme
la parole sur rien.  Quelquefois il s'entretenoit un obstacle a ecarter de sa route. Il n'etoit pas
avec la plus grande simplicite au milieu de sa cour, meme aussi coler6 qu'il a souvent paru l'etre: il
et dans son conseil d'etat.  II souffroit la contra- vouloit effrayer avec ses paroles, afin de s'epargner
diction, il y encourageoit meme, quand il s'agissoit le fait par la menace.  Tout 6toit chez lui moyen
de questions administratives ou judiciaires sans re- ou but; l'involontaire ne se trouvoit nulle part, m
lation avec son pouvoir. Il falloit voir alors l'atten- dans le bien, ni dans le mal. On pretend qu'il a
drissement de ceux auxquels il avoit rendu pour un  dit: J'ai tant de conscrits a depenser par an.  Co
moment la respiration libre; mais, quand le maitre  propos est vraisemblable; car Bonaparte a souvent
reparoissoit, on demandoit en vain aux ministres de assez m6prise ses auditeurs pour se complaire dans
presenter un rapport a l'empereur contre une me- un genre de since'rite qui n'est que de l'impudence,
sure injuste.-P- aimoit moins s l louanges vraies -Jamais il n'a cru aux sentimens exalte's, soit dans




232                    HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
les individls, soit dans les nations; il a pris l'ex- amples better, he has that of his own Henri
ression de ces sentimens pour de I'hypocrisie."-  IV. before him.  That great and popular
Vol. ii. pp. 391, 392.                       prince at last found it necessary to adopt the
Bonaparte, Madame de Sta0l thinks, had religious creed of the great majority of his
no alternative but to give the French nation people. In the present day, it is at least as
a free constitution; or to occupy them  in necessary for a less popularmonarch to study
war, and to dazzle them with military glory. and adopt their political one. Some of those
He had not magnanimity to do the one, and about him, we have heard, rather recommend
he finally overdid the latter. His first great the example of Ferdinand VII.! But even the
error was the war with Spain; his last, the Ultras, we think, cannot really forget that
campaign in Russia. All that followed was Ferdinand, instead of having been restored
put upon him, and could not be avoided. by a foreign force, was dethroned by one;
She rather admires his rejection of the terms that there had been no popular insurrection.
offered at Chatillon; and is moved with his and no struggle for liberty in Spain; and that,
farewell to his legions and their eagles at besides the army, he had the priesthood on
Fontainebleau.  She feels like a French- his side, which, in that country, is as omnipwoman on the occupation of Paris by foreign otent, as in France it is insignificant and
conquerors; but gives the Emperor Alexan- powerless, for any political purposes.  We
der full credit, both for the magnanimity of cannot now follow Madame de Stael into the
his conduct as a conqueror, and the gene- profound and instructive criticism she makes
rosity of his sentiments on the subject of on the management of affairs during BonaFrench liberty and independence.  She is parte's stay at Elba; —though much of it is
quite satisfied with the declaration made by applicable to. a later period-and though we
the King at St. Ouen, and even with the do not lemember to have met anywhere with
charter that followed-though  she allows so much truth told in so gentle a manner.
that many further provisions were necessary    Madame de Stael confirms what we believe
to consolidate the constitution.  All this part all well-informed persons now admit, that for
of the book is written with great temperance months before the return of Bonaparte, the
and reconciling wisdom.  She laughs at the attempt was expected, and in some measure
doctrine of legitimacy, as it is now  main- prepared for-by all but the court, and the
tained; but gives excellent reasons for pre- royalists by whom it was surrounded. When
ferring an ancient line of princes, and a the news of his landinog was received, they
fixed order of succession.  Of the Ultras. or were still too foolish to be alarmed; and, when
unconstitutional royalists, as she calls them, the friends of liberty said to each other, with
she speaks with a sort of mixed anger and bitter regret,' There is an end of our liberty
pity; although an unrepressed scorn takes if he should succeed-and of our national inthe place of both, when she has occasion to dependence if he should fail," —the worthy
mention those members of the party who  Ultras went about, saying, it was the luckiest
were the abject flatterers of Bonaparte du- thing in the world, for they should now get
ring the period of his power, and have but properly rid of him; and the King would no
transferred, to the new-occupant of the throne, longer be vexed with the fear of a pretender!
the servility to which they had been trained  Madame de Sta/l treats with derision the idea
under its late possessor.                    of Bonaparte being sincere in his professions
dont on aoit e pus de peine   of regard to liberty, or his resolution to adhere
"Mats  ceux dont on avoit le plus de peine'a to the constitution proposed to him after his
contenir l'indignation vertueuse contre le parti de
l'usurpateur, c' etoient les nobles ou leurs adherens, return. She even maintains, that it was abqui avoient demande des places a ce meme usur- surd to propose a free constitution at such a
pateur pendant sa puissance, et qui s'en  ntoient crisis. If the nation and the army abandoned
separds bien nettement le jour de sa chute. L'en- the Bourbons. nothing remained for the nation
thousiasme pour la l6gitimitg de tel chambellan de but to invest the master of that army with the
Madame mere, ou de telle dame d'atour de dictator
Madame sceur, ne connoissoit point de bornes; et bordership; and to rise  en masse, tll their
certes, nous autres que Bonaparte avoit proscrits borders were freed from the invaders. That
pendant tout le cours de son regne, nous nous they did not do so, only proves that they had
examinions pour savoir si nous n avions pas etg become indifferent about the country, or that
ses favoris, quand une certaine d6licatesse d'ime they were in their hearts hostile to Bonaparte.
nous obligeoit a le d6fendre contre les invectives Nothing, she assures us but the consciousness
de ceux qu'il avoit combles de bienfaits." —Vol.. s
iii. p. 107,                                 of this, could have made him submit to concessions so alien to his whole character and
Our Charles II. was recalled to the throne habits-and the world, says Madame de Stail,
of his ancestors by the voice of his people; so understood him.  "Quand il a prononca lea
and yet that throne was shaken, and, within mots de Loi et Liberti, l'Europe s'est rassurae:
twenty-five years, overturned by the arbitrary  Elle a senti que ce n'atoit plus son ancien et
conduct of the restored sovereigns.  Louis terrible adversaire."
XVIII. was not recalled by his people, but   She passes a magnificent encomium on the
brought in and set up by foreign conquerors. military genius and exalted character of our
It must therefore be still more necessary for Wellington; but says he could not have con.'him to guard against arbitrary measures, and quered as he did, if the French had been led:to take all possible steps to secure the attach- by one who could rally round him the affec.:ment of that people whose hostility had so tions of the people as well as he could direct
Lately proved fatal. If he like domestic ex- their soldiers.  She maintains, that after the




DE STAEL'S FRENCH REVOLUTION.                            233
battle, when Bonaparte returned to Paris, he fuse a respectable office, with a salary of
had not the least idea of being called upon 8000 louis, would certainly be considered as
again to abdicate; but expected to obtain from  fit for Bedlam: And in another place she obthe two chambers the means of renewing or serves, that it seems to be a fundamental
continuing the contest. When he found that maxim in that country, that every man must
this was impossible, he sunk at once into de- have a place. We confess that we have some
spair, and resigned himself without a struggle. difficulty in reconciling these incidental intiThe selfishness which had guided his whole mations with her leading pdsition, that the great
career, disclosed itself in naked deformity in majority of the French nation is desirous of a
the last acts of his public life. He abandoned free constitution, and perfectly fit for and dehis army the moment he found that he could not serving of it. If these be the principles, not
lead it immediately against the enemy-and only upon which they act, but which they and
no sooner saw his own fate determined, than their advocates avow, we know no constitution
he gave up all concern for that of the unhappy under which they can be free; and have no
country which his ambition had involved in faith in the power of any new institutions to
such disasters. He quietly passed by the counteract that spirit of corruption by which,
camp of his warriors on his way to the port even where they have existed the longest,
by which he was to make his own escape-  their whole virtue is consumed.
and, by throwing himself into the hands of   With our manners in society she is not quite
the English, endeavoured to obtain for him- so well pleased;-though she is kind enough
self the benefit of those liberal principles to ascribe our deficiencies to the most honourwhich it had been the business of his life to able causes. In commiserating the comparaextirpate and discredit all over the world.    tive dulness of our social talk, however, has
At this point Madame de Stael terminates not this philosophic observer a little overlooked
sbmewhat abruptly her historical review of the effects of national tastes and habits-and
the events of the Revolution; and here, our is it not conceivable, at least, that we who are
readers will be happy to learn, we must stop used to it may really have as much satisfactoo. There is half a volume more of her work, tion in our own hum-drum way of seeing each
indeed,-and one that cannot be supposed the other, as our more sprightly neighbours in
least interesting to us, as it treats chiefly of their exquisite assemblies? In all this part
the history, constitution, and society of Eng- of the work, too, we think we can perceive
land. But it is for this very reason that we the traces rather of ingenious theory. than of
cannot trust ourselves with the examination of correct observation; and suspect that a good
it. We have every reason certainly to be satis- part of the tableau of English society is rather
fled with the account she gives of us; nor can a sort of conjectural sketch, than a copy from
any thing be more eloquent andl animating than real life; or at least that it is a generalization
the view she has presented of the admirable from a very few, and not very common exmechanism and steady working of our consti- amples. May we be pardoned too for hinting,
tution, and of its ennobling effects on the char- that a person of Madame de Staml's great
acter of all who live under it. We are willing talents and celebrity, is by no means well
to believe all this too to be just; though we qualified for discovering the true tone and
are certainly painted en beau. In some parts, character of English society from her own obhowever, we are more shocked at the notions servation; both because she was not likely to
she gives us of the French character, than see it in those smaller and more familiar asflattered at the contrast exhibited by our own. semblages in which it is seen to the most a ]In mentioning the good reception that gentle- vantage, and because her presence must have
men in opposition to government sometimes had the unlucky effect of imposing silence on
meet with in society, among us, and the up- the modest, and tempting the vain and ambiright posture they contrive to maintain, she tious to unnatural display and ostentation.
says, that nobody here would think of con-   With all its faults, however, the portion of
doling with a man for being out of power, or her book which we have been obliged to pass
of receiving him with less cordiality. She over in silence, is well worthy of as ample a
n6tices also, with a very alarming sort of ad- notice as we have bestowed on the other
miration, that she understood, when in Eng- parts of it, and would of itself be sufficient to
land, that a gentleman of the law had actually justify us in ascribing to its lamented author
refused a situation worth 60001. or 70001. a that perfection of masculine understanding,
year, merely because he did not approve of and female grace and acuteness, which are
the ministry by whom it was offered; and so rarely to be met with apart, aral never, we
adds, that in France any man who would re- believe, were before united.




234                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
(fbcbruaar, 181G.)
Mlmoires de MADAME LA MARQUISE DE LAROCHEJAQUELEIN; avec deux Cartes du Theatre de la
Guerre de La Vendie. 2 tomes, 8vo. pp. 500. Paris: 1815.
THIS is a book to be placed by the side of extraordinary incidents, unexpected turns of
Mrs. Hutchinson's delightful Memoirs of her fortune, and striking displays of individual
heroic husband and his chivalrous Independ- talent, and vice and virtue, than the more soents. Both are pictures, by a female hand, lemn movements of national hostility; where
of tumultuary and almost private wars, car- every thing is in a great measure provided
ried on by conscientious individuals against and foreseen, and where the inflexible subthe actual government of their country: —and ordination of rank, and the severe exactions
both bring to light, not only innumerable traits of a limited duty, not only take away the inof the most romantic daring and devoted ducement, but the opportunity, for those exfidelity in particular persons, but a general altations of personal feeling and adventure
character of domestic virtue and social gen- which produce the most lively interest. and
tleness among those who would otherwise lead to the most animating results. In the
have figured to our imaginations as adventur- unconcerted proceedings of an insurgent popuous desperadoes or ferocious bigots. There lation all is experiment, and all is passion.
is less talent, perhaps, and less loftiness, The heroic daring of a simple peasant lifts
either of style or of character, in the French him at once to the rank of a leader; and kinthan the English heroine. Yet she also has dles a general enthusiasm to which all things
done and suffered enough to entitle her to become possible. Generous and gentle feelthat appellation; and, while her narrative ings are speedily generated by this raised
acquires an additional interest and a truer state of mind and of destination; and the pertone of nature, from the occasional recurrence petual intermixture of domestic cares and
of female fears and anxieties, it is conversant rustic occupations, with the exploits of troops
with still more extraordinary incidents and serving without pay, and utterly unprovided
characters, and reveals still more of what had with magazines, produces a contrast which
been previously malignantly misrepresented- enhances the effects of both parts of the deor entirely unknown.                      scription, and gives an air of moral picturOur readers will understand, from the title- esqueness to the scene, which is both pathetic.
page which we have transcribed, that the and delightful. It becomes much more attractwork relates to the unhappy and sanguinary ive also, in this representation, by the singuwars which were waged against the insur- lar candour and moderation-not the most
gents in La Vendee during the first and mad- usual virtue of belligerent females-with
dest years of the French Republic: But it is which Madame de L. has told the story of
proper for us to add, that it is confined almost her friends and her enemies-the liberality
entirely to the transactions of two years; and with which she has praised the instances of
that the detailed narrative ends with the dis- heroism or compassion which occur in the
solution of the first Vendean army, before the conduct of the republicans, and the simplicity
proper formation of the Chouan force in Brit- with which she confesses the jealousies and
tany, or the second insurrection of Poitou; excesses which sometimes disgraced the inthough there are some brief and imperfect surgents. There is not only no royalist or
notices of these, and subsequent occurrences. antirevolutionary rant in these volumes, but
The details also extend only to the proceed- scarcely any of the bitterness or exaggeration
ings of the Royalist or Insurgent party, to of a party to civil dissensions; and it is rather
which the author belonged; and do not affect wonderful that an actor and a sufferer in the
to embrace any general history of the war.   most cruel and outrageous warfare by which
This hard-fated woman was very young, modern times have been disgraced, should
and newly married, when she was thrown, have set an example of temperance and imby the adverse circumstances of the time, partiality which its remote spectators have
into the very heart of those deplorable con- found it so difficult to follow. The truth is,
tests; —and, without pretending to any other we believe, that those who have had most
information than she could draw from  her occasion to see the mutual madness of conown experience, and scarcely presuming to tending factions, and to be aware of the traits
pass any judgment upon the merits or de- of individual generosity by which the worst
merits of the cause, she has made up her cause is occasionally redeemed, and of brutal
book of a clear and dramatic description of outrage by which the best is sometimes deacts in which she was a sharer, or scenes of based, are both more indulgent to human
which she was an eyewitness,-and of the nature, and more distrustful of its immaculate
characters and histories of the many distin- purity, than the fine declaimers who aggra.
guished individuals who partook with her of vate all that is bad on the side to which they
their glories or sufferings. The irregular and are opposed, and refuse to admit its existence
undisciplined wars which it is her business in that to which they belong. The general
to describe, are naturally far more prolific of of an adverse army has always more tolera.




MEMOIRS OF MADAME DE LAROCHEJAQUELELN.                           23V
lion for the severities and even the miscon- Montmorin, who came to her from the King
duct of his opponents, and the herd of ignorant late in the preceding evening, informed her,
speculators at home; -in the same way as the that they were perfectly aware of an intention
leaders of political parties have uniformly far to assault the royal residence on the night of
less rancour and animosity towards their an- the 12th; but that, to a certainty, nothing
tagonists, than the vulgar followers in their would be attempted till then. At midnight,
train. It is no small proof, however, of an however, there were signs of agitation in the
elevated and generous character, to be able neighbourhood; and before four o'clock in the
to make those allowances; and Madame de morning, the massacre had begun. M. de
L. would have had every apology for falling Lescure rushed out on the first symptom of
inte the opposite error,-both on account of alarm to join the defenders of the palace, but
her sex, the natural prejudices of her rank could not obtain access within the gates, and
and education, the extraordinary sufferings to was obliged to return and disguise himself in
which she was subjected, and the singularly the garb of a Sansculotte, that he might minmild and unoffending character of the be- gle with some chance of escape in the crosewd
loved associates of whom she was so cruelly of assailants. M. de Montmorin, whose disdeprived.                                 guise was less perfect, escaped as if by a
She had sorne right, in truth, to be delicate miracle. After being insulted by the mob,
and royalist, beyond the ordinary standard. he had taken refuge in the shop of a small
Her father, the Marquis de Donnison, had an grocer, by whom he was immediately recogemployment about the person of the King; in nised, and where he was speedily surrounded
virtue of which, he had apartments in the by crowds of the National Guards, reeking
Palace of Versailles; in which splendid abode from the slaughter of the Swiss. The good
the writer was born, and continued constantly natured  shopkeeper saw  his danger, and
to reside, in the very focus of royal influence stepping quickly up to him, said with a faand glory, till the whole of its unfortunate in- miliar air, "Well, cousin, you scarcely exhabitants were compelled to leave it, by the pected, on your arrival from the country, to
fiury of that mob which escorted them  to witness the downfal of the tyrant-Here,
Paris in 1789. She had, like most French drink to the health of those brave asserters
ladies of distinction, been destined from her of our liberties."  He submitted to swallow
infancy to be the wife of M. de Lescure, a the toast, and got off without injury.
near relation of her mother, and the repre-   The street in which M. Lescure resided,
sentative of the ancient and noble family of being much frequented by persons of the
Salgues in Poitou.  The character of this Swiss nation, was evidently a very dangerous
eminent person, both as it is here drawn by place of retreat for royalists; and, soon after
his widow, and indirectly exhibited in various it was dark, the whole family, disguised in
parts of her narrative, is as remote as possible the dress of the lower orders, slipped out,
from that which we should have been in- with the design of taking refuge in the house
dined, a priori, to ascribe to a young French of an old femme-de-chambre, on the other side
nobleman of the old regime, just come to of the river. M. de Donnison and his wife
court, in the first flush of youth, from a great went in one party; and Madame Lescure,
military school. He was extremely serious, then in the seventh month of her pregnancy,
bashful, pious, and self-denying,-with great with her husband, in another. Intending to
firmness of character and sweetness of tem- cross by the lowest of the bridges, they first
per,-fearless, and even ardent in war, but turned into the Champs-Elysies. More than
humble in his pretensions to dictate, and most a thousand men had been killed there that
considerate of the wishes and sufferings of his day; but the alleys were now silent and
followers. To this person she was married in lonely; though the roar of the multitude, and
the nineteenth year of her age, in October occasional discharges of cannon and musketry,
1790,-at a time when most of the noblesse were heard from the front of the Tuilleries,
had already emigrated, and when the rage for where the conflagration of the barracks was
tht: infortunate measure had penetrated even still visible in the sky. While they were
to: A  province of Poitou, where M. de Les- wandering in these horrid shades, a woman
cure.ad previously formed a prudent asso- came flying up to them, followed by a drunken
ciatik-:i of the whole gentry of the country, to patriot, with his musket presented at her
wholw the peasantry were most zealously at- head. All he had to say was, that she was
tached. It was the fashion, however, to emi- an aristocrat, and that he must finish his day's
grate; and so many of the Poitevin nobility work by killing her. M. Lescure appeased
were pleased to follow it, thatM. de Lescure him with admirable presence of mind, by
at last thought it concerned his honour, not to professing to enter entirely into his sentiments,
remain longer behind; and came to Paris in and proposing that they should go back toFebruary 1791, to make preparations for his gether to the attack of the palace-adding
journey to Coblentz. Here however, he was only. " But you see what state my wife is in
requested by the Queen herself not to go — she is a poor timid creature-and I must
farther; and thought it his duty to obey. The first take her to her sister's, and then I shall
summer was passed in the greatest anxieties return here to you."  The savage at last
and agitations; and at last came the famous agreed to this, though before he went off, he
Tenth of August. Madame de L. assures us, presented his piece several times at them,
that the attack on the palace was altogether swearing that he believed they were aristounexpected on that occasion, and that M. crats after all, and that he had a mind to have




236                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
a shot at them. This rencontre drove them  its physical conformation, as in the state and
from the lonely way; and they returned to condition of its population. A series of dethe public streets, all b'azing with illumina- tached eminences, of no great elevation, rose
tions, and crowded with drunken and infuri- over the whole face of the country, with little
ated wretches, armed with pikes, and in many rills trickling in the hollows and occasional
instances stained with blood. The tumult cliffs by their sides. The whole space was
and terror of the scene inspired Madame de divided into small enclosures, each surroundL. with a kind of sympathetic frenzy; and, ed with tall wild hedges, and rows of pollard
without knowing what she did, she screamed trees; so that, though there were few large
out, Vive les Sansculottes! i bas les tyrans! as woods, the whole region had a sylvan and
outrageously as any of them. They glided impenetrable appearance. The ground was
unhurt, however, through this horrible assem- mostly in pasturage; and the landscape had,
blage; and crossing the river by the Pont for the most part, an aspect of wild verdure
Neuf, found the opposite shore dark, silent, except that in the autumn some patches of
and deserted, and speedily gained the humble yellow corn appeared here and there athwart
refuge in search of which they had ventured. the green enclosures. Only two great roads
The domestic relations between the great traversed this sequestered region. running
and their dependants were certainly more nearly parallel, at a distance of more than
cordial in old France, than in any other coun- seventy miles from each other. In the intertry-and a revolution, which aimed profess- mediate space, there was nothing but a labyedly at levelling all distinction of ranks, and rinth of wild and devious paths, crossing each
avenging the crimes of the wealthy, armed other at the extremity of almost every field
the hands of but few servants against the lives -often serving, at the same time, as channels
or liberties of their masters. M. de Lescure for the winter torrents. and winding so caand his family were saved in this extremity priciously among the innumerable hillocks,
by the prudent and heroic fidelity of some old and beneath the meeting hedgerows, that the
waiting-women and laundresses-and ulti- natives themselves were always in danger of
mately effected their retreat to the country by losing their way when they went a league or
the zealous and devoted services of a former two from their own habitations. The countutor in the family, who had taken a very try, though rather thickly peopled, contained
conspicuous part on the side of the Revolution. as may be supposed, few large towns; and
This M. Thomasin, who had superintended the inhabitants, devoted almost entirely to
the education of M. Lescure, and retained the rural occupations, enjoyed a great deal of
warmest affection for him  and the whole leisure. The noblesse or gentry of the counfamily, was an active, bold, and good-humour- try were very generally resident on their
ed man-a great fencer, and a considerable estates; where they lived in a style of simorator at the meetings of his section. He was plicity and homeliness which had long disapeager, of course, for a revolution that was to peared from every other part of the kingdom.
give every thing to talents and courage: and No grand parks, fine gardens, or ornamented
had been made a captain in one of the mu- villas; but spacious clumsy chateaus, surnicipal regiments of Paris. This kind-hearted rounded with farm offices and cottages for the
patriot took the proscribed family of M. de labourers. Their manners and way of life,
Lescure under his immediate protection, and too, partook of the same primitive rusticity.
by a thousand little stratagems and contriv- There was great cordiality, and even much
ances, not only procured passports and con- familiarity, in the intercourse of the seigneurs
veyances to take them  out of Paris, but with their dependants. They were followed
actually escorted them himself, in his national by large trains of them in their hunting expeuniform, till they were safely settled in a roy- ditions, which occupied a great part of their
alist district in the suburbs of Tours. When time. Every man had his fowlingpiece, and
any tumult or obstruction arose on the journey, was a marksman of fame or pretensions.
M. Thomasin leaped from the carriage, and They were posted in various quarters; to inassuming the tone of zeal and authority that tercept or drive back the game; and were
belonoed to a Parisian officer, he harangued, thus trained, by anticipation, to that sort of
reprimanded, and enchanted the provincial discipline and concert in which their whole
patriots, till the whole party went off again in art of war was afterwards found to consist.
the midst of their acclamations. From Tours. Nor was their intimacy confined to their
after a cautious and encouraging exploration sports. The peasants resorted familiarly to
of the neighbouring country, they at length their landlords for advice, both legai and
proceeded to M. Lescure's chateau of Clisson. medical; and they repaid the visits in their
in the heart of the district afterwards but too daily rambles, hnd entered with interest into
well known by the name of La Vend6e, of all the details of their agricultural operawhich the author has here introduced a very tions. They came to the weddings of their
clear and interesting description.        children, drank with their guests, and made
A tract of about one hundred and fifty miles little presents to the young people. On Sunsquare, at the mouth and on the southern days and holidays, all the retainers of the
bank of the Loire, comprehends the scene of family assembled at the chateau, and danced
those deplorable hostilities. The most inland in the barn or the court-yard, according to the
part of the district, and that in which the in- season. The ladies of the house joined in the
surrection first broke out. is called Le Bocage; festivity, and that without any airs of conde.
and seems to have been almost as singular in scension or of mockery; for, in their own iife,




MEMOIRS OF MADAME DE LAROCHEJAQUELEIN.                          237
Lthere was little splendour or luxurious refine- resident gentry, no doubt, for the most part,
ment. They travelled on horseback, or in favoured that cause; and the peasantry felt
heavy carriages drawn by oxen; and had lit- almost universally with their masters;-but
tle other amusement than in the care of their neither had the least idea, in the beginning,
dependants, and the familiar intercourse of of opposing the political pretensions of the
neighbours among whom there was no rivalry new government, nor, eveli to the last, much
or principle of ostentation.              serious hope of effecting ally revolution in the
From all this there resulted, as Madame de general state of the country. The first moveL. assures us, a certain innocence and kindli- ments, indeed. partook far more of bigotry
ness of character, joined with great hardihood than of royalism; and were merely the rash
and gaiety,-which reminds us of Henry IV. and undirected expressions of plebeian resentand his Bealpois,-and carries with it, per- ment for the loss of their accustomed pastors.
haps,. on account of that association, an idea The more extensive commotions which followof something more chivalrous and romantic-  ed on the compulsory levy, were equally with.
more honest and unsophisticated, than any out object or plan, and were confined at first tc
thing we now expect to meet with in this the peasantry. The gentry did not join until
modern world of artifice and derision. There they had no alternative, but that of taking up
was great purity of morals accordingly, Ma- arms either against their own dependants, or
dame de L. informs us. and general cheerful- along with them; and they went into the
ness and content throughout the whole dis- field, generally, with little other view than
trict;-crimes were never heard of, and law- that of acquitting their own faith and honour
suits almost unknown. Though not very well and scarcely any expectation beyond that of
educated, the population was exceedingly obtaining better terms for the rebels they
devout; —though theirs was a kind of super- were joining, or of being able to make a stand
stitious and traditional devotion, it must be till some new revolution should take place at
owned, rather than an enlightened or rational Paris, and bring in rulers less harsh and sanfaith. They had the greatest veneration for guinary.
crucifixes and images of their saints, and had   It was at the ballot for the levy of St. Florno idea of any duty more imperious than that ent, that the rebellion may be said to have
of attending on all the offices of religion. begun. The young men first murmured, and
They were singularly attached also to their then threatened the commissioners, who somecures; who were almost all born and bred in what rashly directed a fieldpiece to be pointthe country, spoke their patois, and shared in ed against them, and afterwards to be fired
all their pastimes and occupations. When a over their heads: —Nobody was hurt by the
hunting-match was to take place, the clergy- discharge; and the crowd immediately rushman announced it from the pulpit after prayers, ed forward and seized upon the gun. Some
-and then took his fowlingpiece, and accom- of the commissioners were knocked downpanied his congregation to the thicket. It their papers were seized and burnt-and the
was on behalf of these cur6s, in fact, that the rioters went about singing and rejoicing for
first disturbances were excited.          the rest of the evening. An account, probaThe decree of the Convention, displacing bly somewhat exaggerated, of this tumult,
all priests who did not take the oaths imposed was brought next (lay to a venerable peasant
by that assembly, occasioned the removal of of the name of Cathelineau, a sort of itinerant
several of those beloved and conscientious dealer in wool, who was immediately struck
pastors; and various tumults were excited by with the decisive consequences of this open
attempts to establish their successors by au- attack on the constituted authorities. The
thority. Some lives were lost in these tu- tidings were brought to him as he was kneadmults; but their most important effect was ing the weekly allowance of bread for his
in diffusing an opinion of the severity of the family. He instantly wiped his arms, put on
new government, and familiarizing the peo- his coat, and repaired to the village marketple with the idea of resisting it by force. pltce, where he harangued the inhabitants,
The order of the Convention for a forced levy and prevailed on twenty or thirty of the boldof three hundred thousand men, and the pre- est youths to take their arms in their hands
parations to carry it into effect, gave rise to and follow him. He was universally respectthe first serious insurrection; —and while the ed for his piety, good sense, and mildness of
dread of punishment for the acts of violence character; and, proceeding with his troop of
alrea.dy committed deterred the insurgents recruits to a neighbouring village, repeated his
from submitting, the standard was no sooner eloquent exhortations, and instantly found
raised between the republican government on himself at the head of more than a hundred
the one hand and the discontented peasantry enthusiasts. Without stopping a moment, he
on the other, than the mass of that united and led this new army to the attack of a military
alarmed population declared itself for their post guarded by four score soldiers and a
associates; and a great tract of country was piece of cannon. The post was surprised, —thus arrayed in open rebellion, without con- the soldiers dispersed or made prisoners,cert, leader, or preparation. We have the and the gun brought off in triumph. From
testimony of Madame de L. therefore, in ad- this he advances, the same afternoon, to
dition to all other good testimony, that this another post of two hundred soldiers and three
great civil war originated almost accidentally, pieces of cannon; and succeeds, by the same
and certainly not from any plot or conspiracy surprise and intrepidity.  The morning after,
of the leading royalists in the country. The while preparing for other enterprises, he is




238                 HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
joined by another band of insurgents, who had determined, that no consideration of prudence
associated to protect one of their friends, for or of safety could induce men of honour to
whose arrest a military order had been issued. desert their dependants, or the party to which,
The unitea force, now amounting to a thou- in their hearts, they wished well;-and that,
sand men, tnen directed its attack on Chollet, when the alternative came, they would rather
a considerable town, occupied by at least five fight with the insurgents than against them.
hundred of the republican army; and again Henri de Larochejaquelein-of whom the fair
bears down all resistance by the suddenness writer gives so engaging a picture, and upon
and impetuosity of its onset. The rioters find whose acts of heroism she dwells throughout
here a considerable supply of arms, money, with so visible a delight, that it is quite a disand ammunition — and thus a country is lost appointment to find that it is not his name-she
and won, in which, but two days before, no- bears when she comes to chnge her own
body thought or spoke of insurrection!   -had been particularly inqui~ed after and
If there was something astonishing in the threatened; and upon an order being sent
sudden breaking out of this rebellion, its first to his peasantry to attend and ballot for the
apparent suppression was not less extraordi- militia, he takes horse in the middle of the
nary. These events took place just before night, and sets out to place himself at their
Lent; and, upon the approach of that holy head for resistance. The rest of the party
season, the religious rebels all dispersed to remained a few days longer in considerable
their homes. and betook themselves to their perplexity. —M. Thomasin having become
prayers and their rustic occupations, just as if suspected, on account of his frequent resort to
they had never quitted them. A column of them, had been put in prison; and they were
the republican army, which advanced from  almost entirely without intelligence as to what
Angers to bear down the insurrection, found was going on; when one morning, when they
no insurrection to quell. They marched from  were at breakfast, a party of horse gallops up
one end of the country to the other, and to the gate, and presents an order for the immet everywhere with the most satisfactory mediate arrest of the whole company. M. de
appearances of submission and tranquillity. L. takes this with perfect calmness —a teaml
These appearances, however, it will readily of oxen is yoked to the old coach; and the
be understood, were altogether deceitful; and prisoners are jolted along, under escort of the
as soon as Easter Sunday gas over, the peas- National dragoons, to the town of Bressuire.
ants began again to assemnble in arms,-and By the time they had reached this place, their
now, for the first time, to apply to the gentry mild and steady deportment had made so
to head them.                            favourable an impression. on their conductors,
All this time Madame Lescure and her that they were very near taking them back
family remained quietly at Clisson; and, in to their homes;-and the municipal officers,
that profound retreat, were ignorant of the before whom M. de L. was brought, had little
singular events to which we have alluded, for else to urge for the arrest, but that it did not
long after they occurred. The first intelli- seem advisable to leave him-at large, when it
gence they obtained was from the indefatiga- had been found necessary to secure all the
ble M. Thomasin, who passed his time partly other gentry of the district. They were not
at their chateau, and partly in scampering sent, however, to the common prison, but
about the country, and haranguing the con- lodged in the house of a worthy republican,
stituted authorities-always in his national who had formerly supplied the family with
uniform, and with the authority of a Parisian groceries, and now treated them with the
patriot. One day this intrepid person came greatest kindness and civility. Here they rehome, with a strange story of the neighbouring mained for several days, closely shut up in
town of Herbiers having been taken either by two little rooms; and were not a little startled,
a party of insurgents, or by an English army when they saw from their windows two or
suddenly landed on the coast; and, at seven three thousand of the National guard march
o'clock the next morning, the chateau was in- fiercely out to repulse a party of the insurvested by two hundred soldiers,-and a party gents, who were advancing, it was reported,
of dragoons rode into the court yard. Their under the command of Henri de Larochejabusiness was to demand all the horses, arms, quelein.  Next day, however, these valiant
and ammunition, and also the.0erson of an old warriors came flying back in great confusion.
cowardly chevalier, some of whose foolish They had met and been defeated by the inletters had been carried to the municipality. surgents; and the town was filled with terM. de L. received this deputation with his rors-and with the cruelties to which terror
characteristic composure-made the apology always gives birth. Some hundreds of Marof the poor chevalier, and a few jokes at his seillois arrived at this crisis to reinforce the
expense-gave up some bad horses-and sent republican army; and proposed, as a measure
away the party in great good humour. For a of intimidation and security, that they should
few days they were agitated with contradic- immediately massacre all the prisoners.-The
tory rumours: But at last it appeared that native leaders all expressed the greatest horthe government had determined on vigorous ror at this proposal-but it was nevertheless
measures; and it was announced, that all the carried into effect! The author saw hundreds
gentry would be required to arm themselves of those unfortunate creatures marched out of
and their retainers against the insurgents. the town, under a guard of their butchers.
This brought things to a crisis;-a council They were then drawn up in a neighbouring
was held in tne chateau, when it was speedily  field, and were cut down with the sa/ire —




MEMOIRS OF MADAME DE LAROCHEJAQUELEIN.                         239
most of them quietly kneeling and exclaim- some setting off for the army of Arnjou, and
ing, Vive le Roi! It was natural for Madame others meditating a return to their own homes.
de L. and her party to think that their turn His appearance; however, and the heartiness
was to come next: and the alarms of their of his adherence to their cause at once recompassionate jailor did not help to allay vived the sinking flame of their enthusiasm,
their apprehensions. Their fate hung indeed and spread it through all the adjoining region.
upon the slightest accident. One day they Before next evening, he found himself at the
received a letter from an emigrant, congratu- head of near ten thousand devoted followers
lating them on the progress of the counter- -without arms or discipline indeed, but with
revolution, and exhorting them not to remit hearts in the trim-and ready to follow whertheir efforts in the cause. The very day after, ever he would venture to lead. There were
their letters were all opened at the munici- only about two hundred firelocks in the whole
pality, and sent to them  unsealed! The array, and these were shabby fowlingpieces
patriots, however, it turned out, were too without bayonets: The rest were equipped
much occupied with apprehensions of their with scythes, or blades of knives stuck upon
own, to attend to any thing else. The Na- poles-with spits, or with good heavy cudgels
tional guards of the place were not much of knotty wood. In presenting himself to this
accustomed to war, and trembled at the re- romantic army, their youthful leader made
taliation which the excesses of their Mar- the following truly eloquent and characteristic
seillois auxiliaries might so well justify. A  speech-" My good friends, if my father were
sort of panic took possession even of their here to lead you, we should all proceed with
best corps; nor could the general prevail on greater confidence. For my part, I know I
his cavalry to reconnoitre beyond the walls am but a child-but I hope I have courage
of the town. A few horsemen, indeed, once enough not. to be quite unworthy of supplying
ventured half a mile farther; but speedily his place to you-Follow me when I advance
came galloping back in alarm, with a report against the enemy-kill me when I turn my
that a great troop of the enemy were at their back upon them-and revenge me, if they
heels. It turned out to be only a single bring me down!"  That very day he led
country-man at work in his field, with a team  them into action. A strong post of the repubof six oxen!                             licans were stationed at Aubiers:- Henri,
There was no waiting an assault with such with a dozen or t,:o of his best marksmen,
forces; and, in the beginning of May 1793, glided silently behind the hedge which surit was resolved to evacuate the place, and fall rounded the field in which they were, and
back on Thouars. The aristocratic captives immediately began to fire —some of the unwere fortunately forgotten in the hurry of armed peasants handing forward loaded musthis inglorious movement; and though they kets to them in quick succession. He himself
listened through their closed shutters with fired near two hundred shots that day; and a
no great tranquillity, to the parting clamours gamekeeper, who stood beside him, almost as
and imprecations of the Marseillois, they soon many. The soldiers, though at first astonished
received assurance of their deliverance, in the at this assault from an invisible enemy, soon
supplications of their keeper, and many ot hers collected themselves, and made a movement
of the municipality, to be allowed to.reTire to gain a small height that was near. Henri
with them to Clisson, and to seek shelter chose this moment to make a general assault;
there from the vengeance of the advancing and calling out to his men, that they were
royalists. M. de Lescure, with his usual running, burst through the hedge at their
good nature, granted all these requests; and head, and threw them instantly into flight and
they soon set off, with a grateful escort, for irretrievable confusion; got possession of their
their deserted chateau.                  guns and stores, and pursued them to within
The dangers he had already incurred by a few miles of the walls of Bressuire. Such,
his inaction-the successes of his less prudent almost universally, was the tactic of those
friends, and the apparent weakness and ir- formidable insurgents. Their whole art of
resolution of their opponents, now decided M. war consisted in creeping round the hedges
de Lescure to dissemble no longer with those which separated them from their enemies,
who seemed entitled to his protection; and and firing there till they began to waver or
he resolved instantly to cast in his lot with move-and then rushing forward with shouts
the insurgents, and support the efforts of his and impetuosity, but without any regard to
adventurous cousin. He accordingly sent order; possessing themselves first of the artilround without the delay of an instant, to inti- lery, and rushing into the heart of their op.
mate his purpose to all the parishes where he ponents with prodigiousfierceness and activity.
had influence; and busied himself and his In these assaults they seldom lost so much as
household in preparing horses and arms  one man for every five that fell of the reguwhile his wife and her women were engaged lars. They were scarcely ever discovered
n manufacturing white cockades. In the soon enough to suffer from the musketry —
midst of these preparations, Henri de Laroche- and seldom gave the artillery an opportunity
iaquelein arrived, flushed with victory and of firing more than once. When they saw
hope, and announced his seizure of Bressuire, the flash of the pieces, they instantly threw
and all the storyof his brief and busy campaign. themselves flat on the ground till the shot
Upon his first arrival in the revolted district flew over then started up, and rushed on the
of his own domains, he found the peasants gunners before they could reload. If they
rather disheartened for want of a leader-  were finally repulsed, they retreated and dis



240                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
persed with the same magical rapidity, dart- danger, and ignorant of the very name of f mai;
ing through the hedges, and scattering among h.s great faults as a leader were rashness iin
the defiles in a way that eluded all pursuit, attack, and undue exposure of his person.
and exposed those who attempted it to niur- He knew little, and cared less, for the scienderous ambuscades at every turning.      tific details of war; and could not always
As soon as it was known that M. de Les- maintain the gravity that was required in the
cure had declared for the white cockade, councils of the leaders. Sometimes after
forty parishes assumed that badge of hos- bluntly giving his opinion, he would quietly
tility; and he and his cousin found themselves lay himself to sleep till the end of the delibeat the head of near twenty thousand men! rations; and, when reproached with this
The day after, they brought eighty horsemen neglect of his higher duties, would answer,
to the chateau. These gallant knights, how- "What business had they to make me a Genever, were not very gorgeously caparisoned. eral?-I would much rather have been a
Their steeds were of all sizes and colours-  private light-horseman, and taken the sport
many of them with packs instead of saddles, as it came."  With all this light-heartedness,
and loops of rope for stirrups-pistols and however, he was full not only of kindness to
sabres of all shapes tied on with cords-  his soldiers, but of compassion for his prisonwhite or black cockades in their hats-and ers. He would sometimes offer, indeed, to
tricoloured ones-with bits of epaulettes taken fight them fairly hand to hand, before acceptfrom the vanquished republicans, dangling in ing their surrender; but never refused to give
ridicule at the tails of their horses! Such as quarter, nor ever treated them with insult or
they were, however,.they filled the chateau severity.
with tumult and exultation, and frightened   M. de Lescure was in many respects of an
the hearts out of some unhappy republicans opposite character. His courage, though of
who came to look after their wives who had the most heroic temper, was invariably united
taken refuge in that asylum. They did them  with perfect coolness and deliberation. He
no other harm, however, than compelling had a great theoretical knowledge of war,
them to spit on their tricoloured cockades, having diligently studied all that was written
and to call Vive le Roi!-which the poor on the subject; and was the only man in the
people, being "des gens honnetes et paisi- party who knew any thing of fortification.
blese' very readily performed.           His temper was unalterably sweet and placid;
In the afternoon, Madame de L., with a and his never-failing humanity, in the tre
troop of her triumphant attendants, paid a mendous scenes he had to pass through, had
visit to her late prison at Bressuire. The something in it of an angelical character
place was now occupied by near twenty thou- Though constantly engaged at the head of hi'
sand insurgents-all as remarkable, she as- troops, and often leading them on to the assures us, for their simple piety, and the sault, he never could persuade himself to take
innocence and purity of their morals, as for the life of a fellow-creature with his own
the valour and enthusiasm which had banded hand, or to show the smallest severity to his
them together. Even in a town so obnoxious captives. One day a soldier, who he thought
as this had become, from the massacre of the had surrendered, fired at him, almost at the
prisoners, there were no executions, and no muzzle of his piece. He put aside the muspillage. Some of the men were expressing a ket with his sword, and said, with perfect
great desire for some tobacco; and upon being composure, " Take that prisoner to the rear."
asked whether there was none in the place, His attendants, enraged at the perfidy of the
answered quite simply, that there was plenty, assault, cut him down behind his back. Ho
but they had no money to buy it!        turned round at the noise, and flew into the
In giving a short view of the whole insur- most violent passion in which he had ever
gent force, which she estimates at about been seen. This was the only time in his
eighty thousand men, Madame de L. here life in which he was known to utter an oath.
introduces a short account of its principal There was no spirit of vengeance in short in
leaders, whose characters are drawn with a his nature; and he frequently saved more
delicate, though probably too favourable hand. lives after a battle, than had been lost in tho
M. d'Elbe, M. de Bonchamp, and M. de course of it.
Marigny, were almost the only ones who had   The discipline of the army, thus commandformerly exercised the profession of arms, and ed, has been already spoken of. It was never
were therefore invested with the formal com- even divided into regiments or companies.mand. Stofflet, a native of Alsace, had form- When the chiefs had agreed on a plan of
erly served in a Swiss regiment, but had long operations, they announced to their followers;
been a gamekeeper in Poitou. Of Cathelineau -M. Lescure goes to take such a bridge,we have spoken already. Henri de Laroche- who will follow him? M. Marigny keeps the
jaquelein, and M. de Lescure, were undoubt- passes in such a valley-who will go with
edly the most popular and important members him?-and so on. They were never told to
of the association, and are painted with the march to the right or the left, but to that.tree
greatest liveliness and discrimination. The or to that steeple. They were generally very
former, tall, fair, and graceful-with a shy, ill supplied with ammunition, and were often
affectionate, and indolent manner in private obliged to attack a post of artillery with cudlife, had in the field, all the gaiety, anima- gels. On one occasion, while rushing on for
tion, and love of adventure, that he used to this purpose, they suddenly discovered a huge
display in the chase. Utterly indifferent to cracifix in a recess of the woods on their flank,




MEMOIRS OF MADAME DE LAROCHEJAQUELEIN.                         241
and immediately every man of them stopped the morning, that one more distrustfill than
short, and knelt quietly down, under the fire the rest had glided into the room, and laid
of the enemy. They then got up, ran right himself down across the feet of his comforward, and took the cannon. They had mander.
tolerable medical assistance; and found ad-   From Thouars they proceeded to Fontenay,
mirable nurses.or the wounded, in the nun- where they had a still more formidable resistneries and other religious establishments that ance to encounter. M. de Lescure was again
existed in all the considerable towns.   exposed alone to the fire of six pieces of canTheir first enterprise, after the capture of non charged with grape; and had hi;: hat
Bressuire, was against Thouars. To get at pierced, a spur shot off, and a boot torn by
this place, a considerable river was to be cross- the discharge; —but he only turned round to
ed.-M. de Lescure headed a party that was his men, who were hanging back, and said,
to force the passage of abridge; but when he'"You see these fellows carl take no aim;came within the heavy fire of its defenders, come on!"  They did come on, axid soor
all k1ia peasants fell back, and left him for carried all before them.
some minutes alone: —His clothes were torn   The republicans had retaken, in the course
by the bullets, but not a shot took effect on of these encounters, the first piece of cannon
his person: —He returned to the charge again which had fallen into the hands of the insurwith Henri de Larochejaquelein:-Their fol- gents, and to which the peasants had fondly
lowers, all but two, again left them at the given the name of Marie Jeanne. After their
moment of charging: But the enemy, scared success at Fontenay, a party was formed to
at their audacity, had already taken flight; recover it. One man. in his impatience, got
the bridge was carried by those four men; so far ahead of his comrades, that he was in
and the town was given up after a short strug- the heart of the enemy before he was aware.
gle, though not before Henri had climbed Fortunately, he had the horse and accoutrealone to the top of the wall by the help of a ments of a dragoon he had killed the day
friend's shoulders, and thrown several stones before, and was taken by the party for one of
at the flying inhabitants within. The repub- their own company.  They welcomed him
lican general Quetineau, who had defended accordingly; and told him that he was. just
himself with great valour, obtained honour- come in time to repulse the brigands, who
able terms in this capitulation, and was treated were advancing to retake their Marie Jeanne.
with the greatest kindness by the insurgent  1 Are they?'2 said he; —  follow me, and we
chiefs. He had commanded at Bressuire when shall soon give a good account of them: —
it was finally abandoned, and told M. Lescure, and then, heading the troop, he rode on till
when he was brought before him, that he saw  he came within reach of his own party, when
the closed window-shutters of his family well he suddenly cut down the two men on each
enough as he marched out; and that it was side of him, and welcomed his friends to the
not out of forgetfulness that he had left them  victory. At another time, four young officers,
unmolested. M. Lescure expressed his grati- in the wantonness of their valour, rode alone
tude for his generosity, and pressed him to to a large village in the heart of the country
remain with them. —" You do not agree in our occupied by the republicans, ordered all the
opinions, I know;-and I do not ask you to inhabitants to throw down their tricoloured
take any share in our proceedings. You shall cockades, and to prepare quarters for the royb, a prisoner at large among us: But if you alist army, which was to march in, in the
go back to the republicans, they will say you evening, one hundred thousand strong. The
gave up the place out of treachery, and you good people began their preparations accordwill be rewarded by the executioner for the ingly, and hewed down their tree of liberty —
gallant defence you have made." —The cap- when the young men laughed in their faces,
tive answered in terms equally firm and spir- and galloped unmolested away from upwards
ited.-" I must do my duty at all hazards.-  of a thousand enemies!-The whole book is
I should be dishonoured, if I remained vol- full of such feats and adventures. Their reuntarily among enemies; and I am ready to cent successes had encumbered them with
answer for all I have hitherto done." —It will near four thousand prisoners, of whom, as
surprise some violent royalists among our- they had no strong places or regular garrisons,
selves, we believe, to find that this frankness they were much at a loss how to dispose.and fidelity to his party secured for him the To dismiss such a mob of privates, on their
friendship and esteem  of all the Vendean parole not to serve any more against them,
leaders. The peasants, indeed, felt a little they knew would be of no avail; and after
more like the liberal persons just alluded to. much deliberation, they fell upon the ingeni-.
They were not a little scandalized to find a ous expedient of shaving their heads, at the
republican treated with respect and courtesy: same time that their parole was exacted; so
-and, above all, were in horror when they that if they again took the field against them
saw him admitted into the private society of within any moderate time, they might be
their chiefs, and discovered that M. de Bon- easily recognised, and dealt with accordingly,
champ actually trusted himself in the same Madame Lescure's father had the merit of
chamber with him at night!  For the first this happy invention.
two or three nights, indeed, several of them    The day after the capture of Fontenay, the
kept watch at the outside of the door, to de- greater part of the army thought it was time
fend him against the assassination they ap- to go home for a while to look after their catprehended; and once or twice he found in tle, and tell their exploits to their wives and
16




si2                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
canildren. In about a week, however, a con- among themselves. The expedition to Nantes
siderable number of them came back again, was disastrous. The soldiers did not like to
and proceeded to attack Saumur. Here M. go so far from home; and the army, as it ad
de Lescure received his first wound in the vanced, melted away by daily desertions.
arm; and Henri, throwing his hat over the There was also some want of concert in the
entrenchments of the place, called to his men, movements of the different corps; —and, after
"Let us see now, who will bring it back to a sanguinary conflict, the attack was abandonme!" — and rushed at their head across the ed, and the forces dispersed all over the
glacis. A vast multitude of the republicans country. The good Cathelineau was mortally
fell in this battle; and near twelve thousand wounded in this affair, at which neither M.
prisoners were made,-who were all shaved de Lescure nor Henri were present; the latter
and let go. The insurgents did not lose four being in garrison at Saumur, and the other
hundred in all. In the castle they found disabled by his wound. The news of this
Quetineau, the gallant but unsuccessful de- wound came rather suddenly upon his wife,
fender of Thouars, who, according to M. de who, though she had always before been in
Lescure's prediction, had been arrested and agonies of fear on horseback, instantly mount
ordered for trial in consequence of that dis- ed a ragged colt, and galloped off to rejoin
aster. He was again pressed to remain with him. She never afterwards had the least
them as a prisoner on parole; but continued alarm about riding. The army having sponfirm in his resolution to do his duty, and leave taneously disbanded after the check at Nantes,
the rest to fortune. He was sent, accordingly, it was found impossible to maintain the places
to Paris a short time after-where he was it had occupied. General Westermann arrived
tried, condemned, and executed!         from Paris, at the head of a large force; and,
The insurrection had now attained a mag- after retaking Saumur and Parthenay, began
nitude which seemed to make it necessary to the relentless and exterminating system of
have some one formally appointed to the chief burning and laying waste the districts from
command; and with a view of. at once flat- which he had succeeded in dislodging the intering and animating the peasants, in whose surgents. One of the first examples he made
spontaneous zeal it had originated, all voices was at M. de Lescure's chateau of Clisson.
were united in favour of Cathelineau, the It was burnt to the ground, with all its offices,
humble and venerable leader under whom its stores, and peasants' houses; as well as all the
first successes had been obtained. It is very pictures and furniture of its master. Having
remarkable, indeed, that in a party thus asso- long foreseen the probability of such a conciated avowedly in opposition to democratical summation, he had at one time given orders
innovations, the distinctions of rank were to remove some of the valuable articles it
utterly disregarded and forgotten. Not only contained; but apprehensive that such a prowas an humble peasant raised to the dignity ceeding might discourage or disgust his folof commander-in-chief, but Madame de L. lowers, he afterwards abandoned the design,
assures us, that she herself never knew or and submitted to the loss of all his family
enquired whether one half of the officers moveables. The event, Madame de L. aswere of noble or plebeian descent; and men- sures us, produced no degree either of irritations one, the son of a village shoemaker, who tion or discouragement. The chiefs, however,
was long at the head of all that was gallant now exerted all their influence to collect their
and distinguished in the body. We are afraid scattered forces before Chatillon; and Madame
that this is a trait of their royalism, which it de L. accompanied her husband in all the
is no longer thought prudent to bring forward rapid and adventurous marches he made for
in the courts of royalty.                that purpose, through this agitated and disThose brilliant successes speedily suggested tracted country. In one of these fatiguing
enterprises of still greater ambition and ex- movements with some broken corps of the
tent.  A communication was now opened army, they stopped to repose for the night in
with M. de Charrette, who had long headed the chateau of Madame de Concise, who was
the kindred insurrection in Anjou; and a still so much an alien to the Vendean manjoint attack on the city of Nantes was pro- ners, that they found her putting on rouge,
jected and executed by the two armies. That and talking of the agitation of her nerves!
of Poitou was now tolerably provided with   The attack on Westermann's position at
arms and ammunition, and decently clothed, Chatillon was completely successful; but the
though without any attention to uniformity. victory was stained by the vindictive massaThe dress of the officers was abundantly fierce cres which followed it. The burnings and
and fantastic. With pantaloons and jackets butcheries of the republican forces were
of gray cloth, they wore a variety of great bloodily avenged-in spite of the efforts of
red handkerchiefs all about their persons-  M. de Lescure, who repeatedly exposed his
one tied round their head, and two or three own life to save those of the vanquished. In
about their waist, and across their shoulders, the midst 6f the battle, one of his attendants
for holding their pistols and ammunition. seeing a rifleman about to fire at him, stepped
Henri de Larochejaquelein introduced this bravely before him, and received the shot in
fashion; and it speedily became universal his eye. The carriage of Westermann was
among his companions, giving them not a taken; and some young officers, to whom it
little the air of brigands, or banditti, the name was entrusted, having foolishly broken open
early bestowed on them by the republicans, the strong box, which was believed to be full
iand at last generally adopted and recognised of money, there was a talk of bringing them




MEMOIRS OF MADAME DE LAROCHEJAQUELEIN.                         243
to trial for the supposed embezzlement. M. vention issued the barbarous decree, that the
de L., however, having declared that one of whole country, which still continued its rethem had given him his word of. honour that sistance, should be desolated; that the whole
the box was empty when they opened it, the inhabitants should be exterminated, without
whole council declared themselves satisfied, distinction of age or sex; the habitations conand acquitted the young men by acclamation. sumed with fire, and the trees cut down with
In the course of the summerof 1793, various the axe. Six arrnies, amounting in all to near
sanguinary actions were fought with various two hundred thousand men, were charged
success; but the most remarkable event was with the execution of these atrocious orders;
the arrival of M. Tinteniac, with despatches and began, in September 1793, to obey them
from the English government, about the mid- with a detestable fidelity. A multitude of
dle of July. This intrepid messenger had sanguinary conflicts ensued; and the insurcome alone through all Brittany and Anjou, gents succeeded in repulsing this desolating
carrying his despatches in his pistols as wad- invasion at almost all the points of attack.
ding, and incessantly in danger from the re- Among the slain in one of these engagements,
publican armies and magistrates. The des- the republicans found the body of a young
patches, Madame de L. informs us, showed woman, which Madame de L. informs us gave
an incredible ignorance on the part of the occasion to a number of idle reports; many
English government of the actual posture of giving out that it was she herself, or a sister
affairs. They were ansivered, however, with of M. de L. (who had no sister), or a new
gratitude and clearness. A debarkation was Joan of Arc, who had kept up the spirit'of
strongly recommended near Sables or Paim- the peasantry by her enthusiastic predictions.
bceuf, but by no means at L'Orient, Rochefort, The truth was, that it was the body of an inor Rochelle; and it was particularly entreated, nocent peasant girl, who had always lived a
that the troops should consist chiefly of emi- remarkably quiet and pious life, till recently
grant Frenchmen, and that a Prince of the before this action, when she had been seized
House of Bourbon should, if possible, place with an irresistible desire to take a part in
himself at their head. Madame de L., who the conflict. She had discovered herself some
wrote a small and very neat hand, was em- time before to Madame de L.; and begged
ployed to write out these despatches, which from her a shift of a peculiar fabric. The
were placed in the pistols of M. Tinteniac, night before the battle, she also revealed her
who immediately proceeded on his adven- secret to M. de L.; —asked him to give her a
turous mission. He reached England, it seems, pair of shoes-and promised to behave herand was frequently employed thereafter in self in such a manner in the morrow's fight,
undertakings of the same nature. He headed that he should never think of parting with
a considerable party of Bretons, in endeavour- her. Accordingly, she kept near his person
ing to support the unfortunate descent at through the whole of the battle, and conductQuiberon; and, disdaining to submit, even ed herself with the most heroic bravery. Two
after the failure of that ill-concerted expedi- or three times, in the very heat of the fight,
tion, fell bravely with arms in his hands. she said to him, "No, mon, General, you shall
After his departure, the insurgents were re- not get before me —I shall always be closer
pulsed at Lucon, and obtained some advan- up to the enemy even than you:"  Early in
tages at Chantonnay. But finding the repub- the day, she was hurt pretty seriously in the
lican armies daily increasing in numbers, skill, hand, but held it up laughing to her general,
and discipline, they found it necessary to act and said, " It is nothing at all."  In the end
chiefly on the defensive  and, for this pur- of the battle she was surrounded in a charge,
pose, divided the countryinto several districts, and fell fighting like a desperado. There
in each of which they stationed that part of were about ten other women, who took up
the army which had been recruited within it, arms, Madame de L. says. in this cause; — --
and the general who was most beloved and two sisters, under fifteen —and a tall beauty,
confided in by the inhabitants. In this way, who wore the dress of an officer. The priests
M. Lescure came to be stationed in the heart attended the soldiers in the field, and rallied
of his own estates: and was not a little touched and exhorted them; but took no part in the
to find almost all his peasants, who had bled combat, nor ever excited them to any acts of
and suffered by his side for so long a time inhumanity. There were many boys of the
without pay, come to make offer of the rents most tender age among the combatants,that were due for the possessions to which some scarcely more than nine or ten years of
they were but just retWned. He told them, age.
it was not for his rents that he had taken up   M. Piron gained a decided victory over the
arms;-and that while they were exposed to most numerous army of the republic; but
the calamities of war, they were well entitled their ranks being recruited by the whole garto be freed of that burden. Various lads of rison of Mentz, which had been liberated on
thirteen, and several hale grandsires of sev- parole, presented again a most formidable
enty, came at this period, and insisted upon front to the insurgents. A great battle was
being allowed to share the dangers and glories fought in the middle of September at Chollet,
of their kinsmen.                        where the government army was completely
From this time, downwards, the picture of broken, and would have been finally routed,
the war is shaded with deeper horrors; and but for the skill and firmness of the celethe operations of the insurgents acquire a brated Kleber who commanded it, and suc-',character of greater desperation. The Con- cessfully maintained a position which covered




44                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
its retreat. In the middle of the battle one and tumultuary parties. with tidings of evil
of the peasants took a flageolet from  his omen. Nobody had the courage to tell this
pocket, and, in derision, began to play pa ira, unfortunate woman the calamity that had beas he advanced against the enemy. A can- fallen her, though the priest awakened a vague
non-ball struck off his horse's head, and alarm by solemn encomiums on the piety of
brought him to the ground; but he drew his M. de L., and the necessity of resignation to
leg from the dead animal, and marched for- the will of Heaven. Next night she found
ward on foot, without discontinuing his music. him at Cherdron, scarcely able to move or to
One other picture of detail will give an idea articulate,-but suffering more from the idea
of the extraordinary sort of warfare in which of her having fallen into the hands of the
the country was then engaged. Westermann enemy, than from his own disasters.
was beat out of Chatillon, and pursued to   The last great battle was fought near Cholsome distance; but finding that the insurgent let, when the insurgents, after a furious and
forces-were withdrawn, he bethought himself sanguinary resistance, were at last borne down
of recovering the place by a coup de main. by the multitude of their opponents, and
He mounted an hundred grenadiers behind driven down into the low country on the banks
an hundred picked hussars. and sent them at of the Loire. M. de Bonchamp, who had
midnight into the city. The peasants, as always held out the policy of crossing this
usual, had no outposts, and were scattered river, and the advantages to be derived from
about the streets, overcome with fatigue and uniting themselves to the royalists of Brittany,
brandy. However, they made a stout and was mortally wounded in this battle; but his
bloody resistance. One active fellow received counsels still influenced their proceedings in
twelve sabre wounds on the same spot; an- this emergency; and not only the whole deother, after killing a hussar, took up his bris and wreck of the army, but a great prowounded brother in his arms, placed him on portion of the men and women and children
the horse, and sent him out of the city;-  of the country, flying in consternation from
then returned to the combat; killed another the burnings and butchery of the government
hussar, and mounted himself on the prize. forces, flocked down in agony and despair to
The republicans, irritated at the resistance the banks of this great river. On gaining the
they experienced, butchered all that came heights of St. Florent, one of the most mournacross them in that night of confusion! All ful, and at the same time most magnificent
order or discipline was lost in the darkness; spectacles, burst upon the eye. Those heights
and they hacked and fired at each other, or form a vast semicircle; at the bottom of which
wrestled and fell, man to man, as they chanced a broad bare plain extends to the edge of the
to meet, and often without being able to dis- water. Near an hundred thousand unhappy
tinguish friend from foe.-An eminent leader souls now blackened over that dreary expanse,
of the insurrection was trampled under foot -old men, infants, and women mingled with
by a party of the republicans, who rushed past the half-armed soldiery, caravans, crowded
him to massacre the whole family where he baggage waggons and teams of oxen, all full
lodged, who were all zealous republicans.-  of despair, impatience, anxiety, and terror.The town was set on fire in fifty places,-and Behind, were the smokes of their burning
was at last evacuated by both parties, in mu- villages, and the thunder of the hostile artiltual fear and ignorance of the force to which lery; —before, the broad stream of the Loire,'
they were opposed. When the day dawned, divided by a long low island, also covered
however, it was finally reoccupied by the in- with the fugitives -twenty frail barks plying
svrgents.                               in the stream-and, on the far banks, the
After some more successes, the insurgent disorderly movements of those who had efochiefs found their armies sorely reduced, and fected the passage, and were waiting there to
their enemies perpetually increasing in force be rejoined by their companions. Such, Maand numbers. M. de la Charette, upon some dame de L. assures us, was the tumult and
misunderstanding, withdrew his corps; and terrror of the scene, and so awful the recolall who looked beyond the present moment, lections it inspired, that it can never be effaced
could not fail to perceive, that disasters of the from the memory of any of those who beheld
most fatal nature were almost inevitably ap- it; and that many of its awe-struck spectaproaching. A dreadful disaster, at all events) tors have concurred in stating that it brought
now fell on their fair historian. M. de L. in forcibly to their imaginations the unspeakable
rallying a party of his men near Tremblaye, terrors of the great day of Judgment! Through
was struck with a musket ball on the eye- this dismayed and bewildered multitude, the
brow, and instantly fell senseless to the ground. disconsolate family of their gallant general
He was not dead, however; and was with diffi- made their way silently to the shore;-M. de
culty borne through the rout which was the L. stretched, almost insensible, on a wretched
immediate consequence of his fall. His wife, litter,-his wife, three months gone with child,
entirely ignorant of what had happened, was walking by his side,-and, behind her, her
forced to move along with the retreating army; faithful nurse with her helpless and astonishand in a miserable little village was called, at ed infant in her arms. When they arrived
midnight, from her bed of straw, to hear mass on the beach, they with difficulty got a crazy
performed to the soldiers by whom she was boat to carry them to the island; but the aged
surrounded. The solemn ceremony was in- monk who steered it would not venture to
rerrupted by the approaching thunder of ar- cross the larger branch of the stream,-and
tillery, and the perpetual arrival of fugitive the poor wounded man was obliged to submit




MEMOIRS OF MADAME DE LAROCHEJAQUELEIN.                         245
tc the agony of another removal. At length, order to the detachment.-The alarm turned
they were landed on the opposite bank: where out to be a false one.
wretchedness and desolation appeared still   At Laval they halted for several days; and
more conspicuous.  Thousands of helpless he was so much recruited by the repose, that
wretches were lying on the grassy shore, or he was able to get for half an hour on horseroaming about in search of the friends from  back, and seemed to be fairly in the way
whom they had been divided. There was a of recovery; when his excessive zeal. and
general complaint of cold and hunger; and no- anxiety for the good behaviour of the troops,
body in a condition to give any directions, or tempted him to premature exertions, from the
administer any relief. M. de L. suffered excru- consequences of' which he never afterwards
ciating pain from the piercing air which blew  recovered.  The troops being all collected
upon his feverish frame; —the poor infant and refreshed at Laval, it was resolved to
screamed for food, and the helpless mother turn upon their pursuers, and give battle to
was left to minister to both; —while her at- the advancing army of the republic.  The
tendant went among the burnt and ruined conflict was sanguinary; but ended most
villages, to seek a drop of milk for the baby. decidedly in favour of the Vendeans. The
At length they got again in motion for the first encounter was in the night —and was
adjoining village of Varades, —M. de L., borne characterized with more than the usual conin a sort of chair upon the pikes of his soldiers, fusion of night attacks.  The two armies
with his wife and the maid-servant walking crossed each other in so extraordinary a
before him, and supporting his legs, wrapped manner, that the artillery of each was supup in their cloaks. With great difficulty they plied, for a part of the battle, from the caisprocured a little room, in a cottage swarming sons of the enemy; and one of tfie Venidean
with soldiers,-most of them famishing for leaders, after exposing himself to great hazard
want of food, and yet still so mindful of the in helping a brother officer, as he took him to
rights of their neighbours, that they would be, out of a ditch, discovered, by the next flash
not take a few potatoes from the garden of of the cannon, that he was an enemy-andl
the cottage, till Madame de L. had obtained immediately cut him down. After daybreak,
leave of the proprietor.                 the battle became more orderly, and ended in
M. de Bonchamp died as they were taking a complete victory. This was the last grand
him out of the boat; and it became necessary crisis of the insurrection.  The way to La
to elect another commander. M. de L. roused Vendee was once more open; and the fugihimself to recommend Henri de Larocheja- tives had it in their power to return triumphant
quelein; and he was immediately appointed. to their fastnesses and their homes after rousWhen the election was announced to him M. ing Brittany by the example of their valour
die L. desired to see and congratulate his and success. M. de L. and Henri both inclined
valiant cousin.  He was already weeping to this course; bat other counsels prevailed.
over him in a dark corner of the room; and Some were for marching on to Nantes-others
now came to express his hopes that he should for proceeding to Rennes-and some, more
soon be superseded by his recovery. "No," sanguine than the rest, for pushing directly
said MI. de L., " that I believe is out of the for Paris. Time was irretrievably lost in these
question: But even if I were to recover, deliberations; and the republicanshad leisure
I should never take the place you have to rally, and bring up their reinforcements,
now obtained, and should be prou(l to serve before any thing was definitively settled.
as your aid-de-camp."- The  day after,  In the meantime, M. de L. became visibly
they advanced towards Rennes. M. de L. worse; and one morning, when his wife alone
could find no other conveyance than a bag- was in the room, he called her to him, and
gage-waggon; at every jolt of which he told her that he felt his death was at hand;
suffere'd such anguish, as to draw forth the -that his only regret was for leaving her
most piercing shrieks even from his manly in the midst of such a war, with a helpless
bosom. After some time, an old chaise was child, and in a state of pregnancy. For himdiscovered: a piece of artillery was thrown self, he added, he died happy, and with
away to supply it with horses, and the humble reliance on the Divine mercy; —but
wounded general was laid in it,-his head her sorrow he could not bear to think of; —
being supported in the lap of Agatha, his and he entreated her pardon for any neglect
mother's faithful waiting-woman, and now  or unkindness he might ever have shown her.
the only attendant of his wife and infant. He added many other expressions of tender.
In three painful days they reached Laval;-  ness and consolation; and seeing her ove:.
Madame de L. frequently suffering from  whelmed with anguish at the despairing tone
absolute want, and sometimes getting noth- in which he spoke, concluded by saying, that
ing to eat the whole day, but one or two sour he might perhaps be mistaken in his progapples. M. de L. was nearly insensible du- nosis; —and hoped still to live for her. Next
ring the whole journey. He was roused but day they were under the necessity of moving
once, when there was a report that a party forward;  and, on the journey, he learned
of the enemy were in sight. He then called accidentally from  one of the officers, the
for his musket, and attempted to get out of dreadful details of the Queen's execution,
the carriage;-addressed exhortations and re- which his wife had been at great pains to
proaches to the troops that were flying around keep from his knowledge. This intelligence
him, and would not rest till an officer in whom  seemed to bring back his fever-though he
he had confidence came up and restored some still spoke of living to avenge her — If I dc




246                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
live," he said, " it shall now be for vengeance march had carried her ahead; but the fSith.
only-no  more mercy from  me!"-That ful Agatha, fearful lest her appearance mighV
evening, Madame de L., entirely overcome alarm her mistress in the midst of the jour
with anxiety and fatigue, had fallen into a ney, had remained alone with the dead body
deep sleep on a mat before his bed:-And for all the rest of the day! Fatigue, grief,
soon after, his condition became altogether and anguish of mind, now threatened Madame
desperate.  He was now  speechless, and de L. with consequences which it seems alnearly insensible; —the sacraments were ad- together miraculous that she should have
ministered, and various applications made escaped. She was seized with violent pains,
without awaking the unhappy sleeper by his and was threatened with a miscarriage in a
side.  Soon after midnight, however, she room which served as a common passage to
started up, and instantly became aware of the crowded and miserable lodging she had
the full extent of her misery.  To fill up procured. It was thought necessary to bleed
its measure, it was announced in the course her —and, after some difficulty, a surgeon
of the morning, that they must immediately was procured.  She can never forget, she
resume their march with the lastsdivision of says, the formidable apparition Of this warlike
the army.  The thing appeared altogether phlebotomist.  A figure six feet high, with
impossible; Madame de L. declared she ferocious whiskers, a great sabre at his side,
would rather die by the hands of the re- and four huge pistols in his belt, stalked up
publicans, than permit her husband to be with a fierce and careless air to her bed-side;
moved in the condition in which he then and when she said she was timid about the
was. When she recollected, however, that operation, answered harshly, "So am not Ithese barbarous enemies had of late not only I have killed three hundred men and upwards
butchered the wounded that fell into their in the field in mytime-one of them only this
power, but mutilated and insulted their re- morning-I think then I may venture to
mains, she submitted to the alternative, and bleed a woman-Come, come, let us see your
prepared for this miserable journey with a arm."  She was bled accordingly-and, conheart bursting with anguish. The dying man trary to all expectation, was pretty well again
was roused only to heavy meanings by the in the morning. She insisted for a long time
pain of lifting him into the carriage,-where in carrying the body of her husband in the
his faithful Agatha again supported his head, carriage along with her; —but her father.
and a surgeon watched all the changes in after indulging her for a few days, contrived
his condition. Madame de L. was placed to fall behind with this precious deposit, and
on horseback; and, surrounded by her father informed her when he came up again, that it
and mother, and a number of officers, went had been found necessary to bury it privately
forward, scarcely conscious of any thing that in a spot which he would not specify.
was passing —only that sometimes, in the   This abstract has grown to such a bulk that
bitterness of her heart, when she saw the we find we cannot afford to continue it on the
dead bodies of the republican soldiers on same scale. Nor is this very necessary; for
the road, she made her horse trample upon though there is more than a third part of the
them, as if in vengeance for the slaughter of book, of which we have given no accounther husband. In the course of little more and that, to those who have a taste for tales
than an hour, she thought she heard some of sorrow, the most interesting portion of itlittle stir in the carriage, and insisted on stop- we believe that most readers will think they
ping to inquire into the cause. The officers, have had enough of La Vend6e; and that all
however, crowded around her; and then her will now be in a condition to judge of the
father came up and said that M. de L. was degree of interest or amusement which the
in the same state as before, but that he suf- work is likely to afford them. We shall add,
fered dreadfully from the cold, and would however, a brief sketch of the rest of its conbe very much distressed if the door was again tents.-After a series of murderous battles, to
to be opened. Obliged to be satisfied with this which the mutual refusal of quarter gave an
answer, she went on in sullen and gloomy exasperation unknown in any other history,
silence for some hours longer in a dark and and which left the field so cumbered with
rainy day of November. It was night when dead bodies that Madame de L. assures us
they reached the town of Fougeres; and, that it was dreadful to feel the lifting of the
when lifted from her horse at the gate, she wheels, and the cracking of the bones, as her
was unable either to stand or walk: —she heavy carriage passed over them,-the wreck
was carried into a wretched house. crowded of the Vendeans succeeded in reaching Anwith troops of all descriptions, where she gers upon the Loire, and trusted to a furious
waited two hours in agony till she heard that assault upon that place for the means of rethe carriage with M. de L. was come up. passing the river, and regaining their beloved
She was left alone for a dreadful moment country.  The garrison, however, proved
with her mother; and then M. de Beauvol- stronger and more resolute than they had
liers came in, bathed in tears, —and taking expected. Their own gay and enthusiastic
both her hands, told her she must now think courage had sunk under a long course of
only of saving the child she carried within suffering and disaster; and, after losing a
her! Her husband had expired when she great number of men before the walls, they
ieard the noise in the carriage, soon after Nvere obliged to turn back in confusion, the
their setting out-and the surgeon had ac- did not'well know whither, but farther and
eorfingly left it as soon as the order of the farther from the land to which all their hopes




MEMOIRS OF MADAME DE LAROCHEJAQUELEIN.                         24'
and-wishes were directed. In the tumult of herd the sheep or cattle of her faithful ani
this retreat, Madame de L. lost sight of her compassionate host, along with his rawboned
venerable aunt, who had hitherto been the daughter.
mild and patient companion of their wander-  In this situation they remained till late in
ings: and learned afterwards that she had the following spring; —and it would be end.
fallen into the hands of the enemy, and, at less to enumerate the hairbreadth Iscapes and
the age of eighty, been publicly executed at unparalleled sufferings to which they were
Rennes, for the crime of rebellion! At Fou- every day exposed-reduced frequently to
geres, at Laval, at Dol, and Savenay, the live upon alms, and forced every two or three
dwindled force of the insurgents had to sus- days to shift their quarters, in the middle of
ta;n new attacks from their indefatigable pur- the night, from one royalist cabin to another.
suers, in which the officers and most of the Such was the long-continued and vindictive
soldiery gave still more extraordinary proofs, rigour of the republican party, that the most
than any we have yet recorded, of undaunted eager and unrelaxing search was made for
valour, and constancy worthy of better for- fugitives of all descriptions; and every adtune. The weather was now, in the latter herent of the insurgent faction who fell into
end of November, extremely cold and rainy; their hands was barbarously murdered, withthe roads almost impassable; and provisions out the least regard to age, sex, or individual
very scarce.  Often, after a march of ten innocence!  While skulking about in this
hours, Madame de L. has been obliged to state of peril anddesolation, they hadglimpses
fish for a few cold potatoes in the bottom of and occasional rencounters with some of their
a dirty cauldron, filled with greasy water, and former companions, whom similar misfortunes
polluted by the hands of half the army. Her had driven upon similar schemes of concealchild sickened from its teething, and insuffi- ment.  In particular, they twice saw the
cient nourishment; and every day she wit- daring and unsubduable M. de Marigny, who
nessed the death of some of those gallant had wandered over the whole country from
leaders whom the spring had seen assembled Angers to Nantes; and notwithstanding his
in her halls in all the flush of youthful confi- gigantic form and remarkable features, had
dence and glory. After many a weary march, contrived so to disguise himself as to elude
and desperate struggle, about ten thousand all detection or pursuit. He could counterfeit
sad survivors got again to the banks of that all ages and dialects, and speak in perfection
fatal Loire, which now seemed to divide them  the patois of every village. He now appeared
from hope an; protection. Henri, who had before them in the character of an itinerant
arranged the whole operation with consum- dealer in poultry; and retired unsuspected by
mate judgment, found the shores on both sides all but themselves. In this wretched condifree of the enemy:-But all the boats had tion, the term of MRadame de L.'s confinement
been removed; and, after leaving orders to drew on; and, after a thousand frights and
construct rafts with all possible despatch, he disasters, she was delivered of two daughters,
himself, with a few attendants, ventured over without any other assistance than that of hel
in a little wherry, which he had brought with mother. One of the infants had its wrist dishim  on a cart, to make arrangements for located; and so subdued wasthe poor mother's
covering their landing. But they never saw  mind to the level of her fallen fortunes, that
the daring Henri again! The vigilant enemy she had now no other anxiety, than that-she
came down upon them at this critical moment might reqover strength enough to carry it
- -intercepted his return-and, stationing seve- herself to the waters of Bareges, which she
ral armed vessels in the stream, rendered the fancied might be of service to it;-but the
passage of the army altogether impossible. poor baby died within a fortnight after it was
They fell back in despair upon Savenay; and born.
there the brave and indefatigable Marigny   Towards the end of 1794, their lot was
told Madame de L. that all was now over-  somewhat softened by the compassionate
that it was altogether impossible to resist the kindness of a Madame Dumoutiers, who offerattack that would be made next day-and ed them an asylum in her house; in which,
advised her to seek her safety in flight and though still liable to the searches of the blooddisguise, without the loss of an instant. She hounds of the municipality, they had more
set out accordingly, with her mother, in a assistance in eluding them, and less misery
gloomy day of December, under the conduct to endure in the intervals. The whole hisof a drunken peasant; and, after being out tory of their escapes would make the advenmosl of the night, at length obtained shelter tures of Caleb Williams appear a cold and
in a dirty farm house,-from which, in the barren chronicle; but we have room only to
course of the day, she had the misery of see- mention, that after the death of Robespierre,
ing her unfortunate countrymen scattered over there was a great abatement in the rigour of
the whole open country, chased and butchered pursuit; and that a general amnesty was
without mercy by the republicans, who now  speedily proclaimed, for all who had been
took a final vengeance for all the losses they concerned in the insurrection. After several
had sustained. She had long been clothed inward struggles with pride and principle,
in shreds and patches, and needed no disguise Madame de L. was prevailed on to repair to
to conceal her quality. She was sometimes Nantes, to avail herself of this amnesty;-but,
hidden in the mill, when the troopers came first of all, she rode in to reconnoitre, and conto search for fugitives in her lonely retreat; sult with some friends of her hostess; and
— and oftener sent, in the midst of winter, to proceeded boldly through the hostile city, in




248                      HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
the dress of a peasant, with a sack at her back, aucun soin.  A  peine les connaissait-on.  Les
and a pair of foswls in her hands.  She found  cadavres restaicnt quelquefois plls d'un jour sans
that the tone was now to flatter and conciliate  qu'on vint les emporter.
the insurgents by all sorts of civilities and    " Agathe ne doutant plus d'une mort prochaine,
some timgen a  shte and.envoya chercher Lamberty. Il la conduisit dans un
comp.lments; and after some time% she and  petit batiment a soupape, dans lequel on avait noye
her mother applied for, and obtained, a full les pretres, et que Carrier lui avait donne. Il etait
pardon for all their offences against the Re- seul avec elle, et voulut en profiter: elle r6sista.
publican goverlnment.                  Lamberty la menaga de la noyer: elle courut pour
pubThis amnesty  rew  back to light many  se jeter elle-menme a l'eau.  Alors cet homme lui
This amnesty drew  back to light many  dit: Allons! tu es unte brave fille, je te sauverai.
of her former friends, who had been univer- 11 la laissa huit jours seule dans le bftiment, oi elle
sally supposed to be dead; and proved, by  entendait les noyades qui se faisaient la nuit; ensuite
the prodigious numbers whom it brought from  il la cacha chez un nomm6 S * * *, qui etait, comrn.
their hiding-places in the neighbourhood, how  me lui, ull fidele ex6cuteur des ordres de Carrier.
generally the lower orders were attached to    " Quelque tenips aprs, la discorde divisa les re'
their cause, or how universal the virtues of publicains de Nantes. On prit le pr6texte d'accuser
Lamberty d'avoir derob6 des femmes aux noyades,
compassion and fidelity to confiding misery  et d'en avoir noye qui ne devaient pas l'etre. Un
are in the national character. It also brought jeune homme, nomm6 Robin, qui etait fort devoue
to the writer's knowledge many  shocking  a Lamberty, vint saisir Agathe chez Madame S***,
particulars of the cruel executions which so  la tralna dans le bateau, et voulut la poignarder,
long polluted that devoted city. We may give  pour faire  isparaitre  ne preue d  crime qu'on
a fe+w of the instances in her own words, as a  reprochait a son patron. Agathe se jeta a ses pieds;
a few of the instances in her own words: as a  parvint a i'attendrir,'et il la cacha chez un de ses
specimen of her manner of writing; to which, amis, nomme Lavaux, qui etait honnete homme, et
in our anxiety to condense the information she  qui avait deja recueilli Madame de i'Epinay: mais
affords us,' we have paid perhaps too little  on sut des le lendemain l'asile d'Agathe, et on vint
attention.                                       l'arreter.
"Cependant le parti ennemi de Lamberty con.
"Madame de Jourdain fut menee sur la Loire, tinuait a vuloir le detruire.  I1 resulta de cette
pour 8tre noyee avec ses trois filles. Un soldat circonstance, qu'on jeta de l'interet sur Agathe.
voulut sauver la plus jeune, qui 6tait fort belle. Ott houa S** et Lavaux de leur humanite, et l'on
Elle sejeta a l'eau pour partager le sort de sa mere. parytnt a faire perir Lainberty  Pen apres arriva la
La malheureuse enfant tomba sur des cadavres, et mort de Robespierre. Agathe resta encore quelques
n'enfonpa point. Elle criait: Poussez-moi, je n'ai mois en prison, puis obtint sa liberte." —Vol. ii. pp.
pas assez d'eau! et elle perint.                171-175.
" Mademoiselle de Coissard, agee de seize ans,    When the means of hearing of her friends
qui etait plus belle encore, s'attira aussi le meme                             there was
inter8t d'unofficierqui passa trois heures a ses pieds,    t o h ear but what was mournful.  Her father
la suppliant de se laisser sauver. Elle 6tait avecbut what was mournful.  Her father
une vielle parente que cet homme ne voulait pas se had taken refuge in a wood with a small party
risquer a derober au supplice. Mademoiselle de of horsemen: after the rout of Savenay, and
Cuissard se precipita dans la Loire avec elle.   afterwards collected a little force, with which
" Une mort afireuse fut celle de Mademoiselle de they seized on the town of Ancenis, and had
la Roche St. Andre. E!le 6tait grosse: on'i'pargna.
On lui laissa nourrir son enfant; mais il inourut, nearly forced the passage of the Loire; but
et on la fit perir le lendemain! Aun reste, il ne faut they were surrounded, and made prisoners,
pas croire que toutes les femmes enceintes fussent and all shot in the market-place! The brave
respectees.  Cela itait meme fort rare; plus com- Henri de Larochejaquelein had gained the
munement les soldats massacraient femmes et en- north bank with about twenty followers, and
fants. I n'yavait que devant les tribunaux, ou l'on  wandered  many  days over the burnt and
observait ces exceptions; et on y laissait aux femmeswadrd aydy oerteb tnd
le temps de nourrir leurs enfants, comme ietant une bloody solitudes of the once happy La Vend6e.
obligation republicaine.  C'est en quoi consistait Overcome with fatigue and hunger, they at
l'humanite des gens d'alors.                     last reached an inhabited farm-house, and fell
"Ma pauvre Agathe avait couru de bien grands fast asleep  in the barn.  They were soon
dangers. Elle m'avait quitte a6 Nort, pour profiter roused however, by the news that a party of
de cette amnistie pretendue, dont on avait parle dans
ce moment. Elle vint h Nantes, et fut conduite the republocans were approaching the same
devant le geniral Lamberty, le plus f6roce des amis house; but were so worn out, that they would
de Carrier. La figure d'Agathe lui plait:'As-tu  not rise, even to provide against that extreme
peur, brigande?' lui dit-il.'Non, general,' repondit- hazard.  The party accordingly entered; and
elle.' He bien! quand tu auras peur, souviens-toi being almost as much exhausted as the others,
de Lamberty,' ajouta-t-il.  Elle fut conduite a threw themselves down without asking any
l'entrepot. C'est la trop fameuse prison ou l'on.,
entassoit les victimes destin6es a etre novees.
Chaque nuit on venait en prendre par centaines, slept quietly beside them.  Henri afterwards
pour les mettre sur les bateaux. La, on liait les found out M. de la Charrette, by whom  he
malheureux deux 6 deux, et on les poussait danr.s was coldly, and even rudely received; but he
l'eau, 6 coups de baionnette.  On saisissait indis. soon raised a little army of his own, and be
tinctement tout ce qui se trouvait    li'entrept; came ain formidable in the scenes of his
tellement qu'on noya un jour l'itat major d'une
corvette Anglaise, qui etait prisonnier de guerre. first successes:-till one day, riding a little in
Unq autre fois, Carrier, voulant donner un exemple front of his party, he fell in with two repubde l'austerite des mceursrepublicaines, fit enfermer lican soldiers, upon whom his followers were
trois cents filles publiques de la ville, et les mal- about to fire, when he said, I No, no, they,heureuses creatures furent noy6es!  Enfin, I'on  shall have quarter;;" and pushingup to them,!estime qu'il a peri a l'entrepot quinze mille per- called
sonnes en un mois. II est vrai qu'outre les supplices,    a   upon  them   rrender. Wthout say
Ia misere et la maladie ravageaient les prisonniers, ing a word. one of them raised his piece, and
qui etaient presses sur la paille, et qui ne recevaient shot him right through the forehead. He fell




MEMOIRS OF MARGRA'VINE OF BAREITH.                           249
at once dead before them, and was buried tle in the same cause which proved fatal t(;
where he fell.                            the first, during the short period of Bonaparte's
"Ainsi perit, a vingt et un ans, Henri de la last reign, and but a few days before the deRochejaquelein. Encore a prisent, quand les pay- i csive battle of Waterloo.
sans se rappellent l'ardeur et l'Nclat de son courage,   We have not left room now for any general
sa modestie, sa facilit6, et ce caractnre de guerrier, observations-and there is no need of them.
et de bon erifant, ils parlent de lui avec fiert6 et avec The book is, beyond all question extremely
amour. It n'est pas un Vendien dont on ne voie curiousa   interesting-and we re    have
le regard s'animer, quand il raconte comment il aand we really have
servi sous NI. Henri. -Vol. ii. pp. 187, 188.  no idea that any reflections of ours could appear half so much so as the abstract we have
The fate of the gallant Marigny was still now given in their stead. One remark, howmore deplorable. He joined Charrette and ever, we shall venture to make, now that our
Stofflet; but some misunderstanding having abstract is done. If all France were like La
arisen among them upon a point of discipline, Vendie in 1793, we should anticipate nothing
they took the rash and violent step of bring- but happiness from  the restoration of the
ing him to a court-martial, and sentencing him  Bourbons and of the old government. But the
to death for disobedience. To the horror of very fact that the Vendeans were crushed by
all the Vendeans, and the great joy of the re- the rest of the country, proves that this is not
publicans, this unjust and imprudent sentence the case: And indeed it requires but a mowas carried into execution; and the cause de- ment's reflection to perceive, that the rest of
prived of the ablest of its surviving champions. France could not well resemble La Vend6e in
When they had gratified their curiosity with its royalism, unless it' had resembled it in
these melancholy details, Madame de L. and the other peculiarities upon which that royalher mother set out for Bourdeaux, and from  ism was founded-unless it had all its nothence to Spain, where they remained for blesse resident on their estates; and living in
nearly two years-but were at last permitted their old feudal relations with a simple and
to return; —and, upon Bonaparte's accession agricultural vassalage.  The book indeed
to the sovereignty, were even restored to a shows two things very plainly,-and both of
great part of their possessions. On the earnest them well worth remembering. In the first
entreaty of her mother, she was induced at place, that there may be a great deal of kindlast to give her hand to Louis de Larochejaque- ness and good affection among a people of
lein, brother to the gallant Henri-and the in- insurgents against an established government;
heritor of his principles and character. This — and, secondly, that where there is such an
match took place in 1802, and they lived in aversion to a government, as to break out in
peaceful retirement till the late movements spontaneous insurrection, it is impossible enfor the restoration of the house of Bourbon. tirely to subdue that aversion, either by
The notice of this new alliance terminates the severity or forbearance-although the differoriginal Memoirs; but there is a supplement, ence of the two courses of policy is, that
containing rather a curious account of the in- severity, even when carried to the savage extrigues and communications of the royalist tremity of devastation and indiscriminate
party in Bourdeaux and the South, through slaughter, leads only to the adoption of similar
the whole course of the Revolution,-and of atrocities in return-while forbearance is at
the proceedings by which they conceive that least rewarded by the acquiescence of those
they accelerated the restoration of the King in who are conscious of weakness, and gives
1814. It may not be uninteresting to add, time and opportunity for those mutual concesthat since the book was published. the second sions by which alone contending factions or
husband of the unfortunate writer fell in bat- principles can ever be permanently reconciled.
(aovcmber, 1812.)
AiMmoires de FREDERIQUE SOPHIE WILHELMINE DE PRUSSE, Margrave de Bareith, Seur de Frederic le Grand. Ecrits de sa Main. 8vo. 2 tomes. Brunswick, Paris, et Londres: 1812.
PHILOSOPHERS have long considered it as intermediate classes are subjected, by their
probable, that the private manners of absolute mutual dependence, and the need they have
sovereigns are vulgar, their pleasures low, and  for the good will and esteem of their fellows.
their dispositions selfish;-that the two ex- Those who are at the very bottom of the scale
tremes of life, in short, approach pretty closely  are below the sphere of this influence; and
to each other; and that the Masters of man- those at the very top are above it. The one
kind, when stripped of the artificial pomp and have no chance of distinction by any effort
magnificence which invests them in public, they are capable of making; and the other
resemble nothing so nearly as the meanest of are secure of the highest degree of it, without
the multitude. The ground of this opinion  any. Both therefore are indifferent, or very
is, that the very highest and the very lowest nearly so, to the opinion of mankind: the forofi mankind are equally beyond the influence mer, because the naked subsistence which
ei that wholesome control, to which all the they earn by their labour will not be affected




250                   HISTORY AND HISTORICAL ME:iOIRS.
by that opinion I and the latter, because their the testimony of any competent observer
legal power and preeminence are equally in- when the volumes before us made their ap.
dependent of it. Those who have nothing to pearance, to set theory and conjecture at rest,
lose, in short, are not very far from the condi- and make the private character of such sovetion of those who have nothing more to gain; reigns a matter of historical record.
and the maxim of reckoning one's-self last,   They bear to be Memoirs of a Princess of
which is the basis of all politeness. and leads, Prussia, written by herself; and are in fact
insensibly, from the mere practice of dissimu- memoirs of the private life of most of the
lation, to habits of kindness and sentiments of princes of Germany, written by one of their
generous independence, is equally inapplica- own number-with great freedom indeedble to the case of those who are obviously and but with an evident partiality to the fraterniin reality the last of their kind, and those who ty; and unmasking more of the domestic
are quite indisputably the first. Both there- manners and individual habits of persons in
fore are deprived of the checks and of the that lofty station, than any other work with
training, which restrain the selfishness, and which we are acquainted. It is ushered into
call out the sensibilities of other men: And, the world without any voucher for its authenremote and contrasted as their actual situa- ticity, or even any satisfactory account of the
tion must be allowed to be, are alike liable manner in which the manuscript was obtainto exhibit that disregard for the feelings of ed: But its genuineness, we understand, is
others, and that undisguised preference for admitted even by those whose inclinations
their own gratification, which it is the boast of would lead them to deny it, and appears to us
modern refinement to have subdued, or at least indeed to be irresistibly established by intereffectually concealed, among the happier or- nal evidence.*  It is written in the vulgar
ders of society. In a free country, indeed, the gossiping style of a chambermaid; but at the
monarch, if he share at all in the spirit of same time with very considerable cleverness
liberty, may escape this degradation; because and sagacity, as to the conception and delineahe will then feel for how much he is depend- tion of character. It is full of events and porent on the good opinion of his countrymen; traits-and also of egotism, detraction, and
and, in general, where there is a great ambi- inconsistency: but all delivered with an air of
tion for popularity, this pernicious effect of good faith that leaves us little room to doubt
high fortune will be in a great degree avoided. of the facts that are reported on the writer's
But the ordinary class of arbitrary rulers, who own authority, or, in any case, of her own befound their whole claim to distinction upon lief in the justness of her opinions. Indeed,
the accident of their birth and station, may be half the edification of the book consists in the
expected to realize all that we have intimated lights it affords as to the character of the
as to the peculiar manners and dispositions of writer, and consequently as to the effects of
the Caste; to sink, like their brethren of the the circumstances in which she was placed:
theatre, when their hour of representation is nor is there any thing, in the very curious
over, into gross sensuality, paltry intrigues, picture it presents, more striking than the part
and dishonourable squabbles; and, in short, she unintentionally contributes, in the pecuto be fully more likely to beat their wives and liarity of her own taste in the colouring and
cheat their benefactors, than any other set of delineation. The heartfelt ennui, and the
persons-out of the condition of tinkers.    affected contempt of greatness, so strangely
But though these opinions have long seem- combined with her tenacity of all its privied pretty reasonable to those who presumed leges, and her perpetual intrigues and quarrels
to reason at all on such subjects, and even about precedence-the splendid encomiums
appeared to be tolerably well confirmed by on her own inflexible integrity, intermixed
the few indications that could be obtained as with the complacent narrative of perpetual
to the state of the fact, there was but little trick and duplicity —her bitter complaints of
prospect of the world at large getting at the the waift of zeal and devotedness in her
exact truth, either by actual observation or by friends, and the desolating display of her own
credible report. The tone of adulation and utter heartlessness in every page of the hisoutrageous compliment is so firmly establish- tory-and,-finally, her outrageous abuse of
ed, and as it were positively prescribed, for almost every one with whom she is connectall authorized communications from the inte- ed, alternating with professions of the greatest
rior of a palace, that it would be ridiculous regard, and occasional apologies for the most
even to form a guess, as to its actual condi- atrocious among them, when they happen to
tion, from such materials: And, with regard conduct themselves in conformity to her own
to the casual observers who might furnish little views at the moment-are all, we think,
less suspected information, a great part are not only irrefragable proofs of the authentoo vain, and too grateful for the opportunities ticity of the singular work before us, but,
they have enjoyed, to do any thing which            
might prevent their recurrence  while others   * I have not recently made any enquiries on this
might prevent    their recurrence; w hile others subject: and it is possible that the authenticity of
are kept silent by a virtuous shame    and the this strange book may have been discredited, since
remainder are discredited, and perhaps not the now remote period when I last heard it discuss.
always without reason, as the instruments of ed. It is obvious at first sight that it is full of ex.
faction or envy. There seemed great reason aggerations: But.hat is too common a characteristic
to fear, therefore, that this curious branch of of genuine memoilr written in the tranchant style
to which it belongs, to detract much from the credit
to which the minuteness and confidence of its de
and conjecture, and never be elucidated by tails may otherwise be thought to entitle it.




MEMOIRS OF MARGRAVINE OF BAREITH.                            25,
together with the lowness of its style and dic- beatings with which it was frequently accom.
tion: are features-and pretty prominent ones panied!-feigned sicknesses-midnight con-in tnat portraiture of royal manners and dis- sultations —hidings behind screens and undei
positions which we conceive it to be its chief beds-spies at her husband's drunken orgies
office and chief merit to display. In this -burning of letters, pocketing of inkstands,
point of view, we conceive the publication to and all the paltry apparatus of boarding-school
be equally curious and instructive; and there imposture;-together with the more revolting
is a vivacity in the style, and a rapidity in the criminality of lies told in the midst of caresses,
narrative, which renders it at all events very and lessons of falsehood anxiously inculcated
entertaining, though little adapted for abstract on the minds of her children.-It is edifying
or ab7idgment.-We must endeavour, how- to know, that, with all this low cunning, and
ever, to give our readers some notion of its practice in deceiving, this poor lady was her.
contents.                                 self the dupe of a preposterous and unworthy
What is now before us is but a fragment, confidence. She told every thing to a favour
extending from  the birth of the author in ite chambermaid —who told it over again to
1707 to the year 1742, and is chiefly occupied one of the ministers-who told it to the King:
with the court of Berlin, down till her mar- And though the treachery of her confidante
riage with the Prince of Bareith in 1731. She was perfectly notorious, and she herself was
sets off with a portrait of her father Frederic reduced privately to borrow money from the
William, whose peculiarities are already pret- King of England in order to bribe her to sety well known by the dutiful commentaries crecy, she never could keep from her any one
of his son, and Voltaire. His daughter begins thing that it was of importance to conceal.
with him a little more handsomely; and as-   The ingenious Princess before us had for
sures us, that he had " talents of the first or- many years no other brother than the Great
der" —'an excellent heart"-and, in short, Frederic, who afterwards succeeded to the
" all the qualities which go to the constitution. throne, but whose extreme ill health in his
of great men." Such is the flattering outline: childhood seemed to render her accession a
But candour required some shading; and we matter of considerable probability. Her almust confess that it is laid on freely, and with liance consequently became an early object
good effect. His temper she admits, was un- of ambition to most of the Protestant princes
governable, and often hurried him into ex- of her time; and before she was fully eight
cesses altogether unworthy of his rank and years old, her father and mother had had fifty
situation. Then it must also be allowed that quarrels about her marriage. About the same
he was somewhat hard-hearted; and through- time, she assures us that a Swedish officer,
out his whole life gave a decided preference who was a great conjurer, informed her, after
to the cardinal virtue of Justice over the inspecting her hand, "that she would be
weaker attribute of Mercy. Moreover, "his sought in marriage by the Kings of Sweden,
excessive love of money exposed him" (her England, Russia. and Poland, but would not
RKyal HEighness seems to think very unjustly) be united to any of them:"-a prediction, the
" to the imputation of avarice." And, finally, good Princess declares, that was afterwards
she informs us, Wxithout any circumlocution, verified in a very remarkable manner. The
that he was a crazy bigot in religion-suspi- Swedish proposition indeed follows hard upon
cious, jealous, and deceitful-and entertained the prophecy; for the very next year engagea profound contempt for the whole sex to ments are taken for that match, which are
which his dutiful biographer belongs.     afterwards abandoned on account of the tenThis "great and amiable" prince was mar- der age of the parties.-The Princess here
iied, as every body knows, to a princess of regales us with an account of her own viacHanover, a daughter of our George the First; ity and angelic memory at this period, and
of whom he was outrageously jealous, and with a copious interlude of all the court scanwho;m he treated with a degree of +brutality dal during the first days of her existence.
that Tould almost have justified any form of But as we scarcely imagine that the scandalreve ige. The princess, however, seems to ous chronicle of Berlin for the year 1712,
have been irreproachably chaste: But had, would excite much interest in this country in
notwitnstanding, some of the usual vices of the year 1812, we shall take the liberty to
slaves; and tormented her tyrant to very good pass over the gallantries of Madame de Blaspurpose by an interminable system of the pil and the treasons of M. Clement; merely
most crooked and provoking intrigues, chiefly noticing, that after the execution of the latter,
about the marriages of her family, but occa- the King ordered every letter that came to
sionally upon other subjects, carried on by his capital to be opened, and never slept withthe basest tools and instruments, and for a out drawn swords and cocked pistols at his
long time in confederacy with the daughter side. But while he was thus trembling at
who has here recorded their history. But imaginary dangers, he was, if we can believe
though she had thus the satisfaction of fre- his infant daughter, upon the very brink of
quently enraging her husband, we cannot help others sufficiently serious. His chief favourthinking that she had herself by far the worst ites were the Prince of Anhalt, who is briefly
of the game; and indeed it is impossible to characterized in these Memoirs as brutal,
read, without a mixed feeling of pity and con- cruel and deceitful, and the minister Grumtempt, the catalogue of miserable shifts which kow, who is represented, on the same authorthis poor creature was perpetually forced to ity, as a mere concentration of all the vices.
employ to avoid detection, and escape the These worthy persons had set their hearts




252                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
upon our author's marriage with the nephew  times to convulsive starts and spasms, and
of the former, an i her ultimate elevation to being seized with one of them when at table,
the throne by the death of her sickly brother. with his knife in his hand, put his hosts into
But when that brother begins to improve in no little bodily terror. He told the Queen,
health, and the old King not only makes his however, that he would do her no harm, and
will without consulting them, but threatens took her hand in token of his good humour;
to live to an unreasonable age, they naturally but squeezed it so unmercifully that she was
become impatient for the accomplishment of forced to cry out —at which he laughed again
their wishes, and resolve to cut off both father with great violence, and said, " her bones
and son, the first time they can catch them  were not so well knit as his Catherine's."
together at an exhibition of ropedancing,-  There was to be a grand ball in the evening;
with which elegant entertainment it seems but as soon as he had done eating, he got up,
the worthy monarch was in the habit of re- and trudged home by himself to his lodgings
creating himself almost every evening. The in the suburbs. Next day they went to see
whole of this dreadful plot, we are assured, the curiosities of the place.-What pleased
was revealed to the King, with all its particu- him most was a piece of antique sculpture,
laritis, by a lady in the confidence of the con- most grossly indecent. Nothing, however,
spirators: but they contrive, somehow or other, would serve him but that his wife should kiss
to play their parts so adroitly, that, after a long this figure; and when she hesitated. he told
investigation, they are reinstated in favour, her he would cut off her head if she refused.
and their fair accuser sent to pine, on bread He then asked this piece and several other
and water, in a damp dungeon at Spandau.   things of value from the King, and packed
In the year 1717, Peter the Great came them off for Petersburgh, without ceremony.
with his Empress and court to pay a visit at In a few days after he took his departure;
Berlin; —and as the whole scene is described leaving the palace in which he had been
with great vivacity in the work before us, and lodged in such a state of filth and dilapidation
serves to illustrate its great theme of the pri- as to remind one, says the princess, of the
vate manners of sovereigns, we shall make desolation of Jerusalem.
rather a fuller abstract of it than we can afford   We now come to a long chapter of the aufor most parts of the narrative. The degrees thor's personal sufferings, from a sort of half
of grossness and pretension are infinite-and governess, half chambermaid, of the name of
the court of Prussia, where the Sovereign got Letti, who employed herself all day in beatdrunk and kicked his counsellors, and beat ing and scratching her, for refusing to repeat
the ladies of his family, thought itself en- all that the King and the Queen said in her
titled to treat Peter and his train as a set of hearing, and kept her awake all night by
Barbarians! —On his first presentation, the snoring like fiftytroopers. This accomplished
Czar took Frederic firmly by the hand, and person also invented ingenious nicknames,
said, he was glad to see him: he then offered which seem to have had much currency, for
to kiss the Queen-but she declined the hon- all the leading persons about the court. The
our. He next presented his son and daughter, Queen she always called La grande dnesse,
and four hundred ladies in waiting-the andher two favourites respectively La grosse
greater part of whom, our Princess assures vache, and La sotte bete. Sometimes she only
us, were washerwomen and scullions pro- kicked the Princess' shins —at other times
-noted to that nominal dignity. Almost every she pummelled her on the nose till " she bled
one of them, however, she adds, had a baby like a calf;" and occasionally excoriated her
richly dressed in her arms-and when any face by rubbing it with acrid substances.
one asked whose it was, answered with great Such, however, was the magnanimity of her
coolness and complacency, that " the Czar had royal pupil, that she never made the least
done her the honour to make her the mother complaint of this dreadful usage; but an old
of it."-The Czarine was very short, tawny, lady found it out, and told the Queen. that
and ungraceful-dressed like a provincial "her daughter was beaten every day like
German player, in an old fashioned robe, plaster," and that she would be brought to
covered with dirt and silver, and with some her one morning with her bones broken, if she
dozens of medals and pictures of saints strung did not get another attendant. So La Letti is
down the front, which clattered every time dismissed, though with infinite difficulty, and
she moved, like the bells of a packhorse. after a world of intrigue; because she had
Sle spoke little German, and no French; and been recommended by my Lady Arlington
finding that she got on but ill with the Queen who had a great deal to say with the court of
and her party, she called her fool into a corner England, with which it was. at that time, a
to come and entertain her in Russian-which main object to keep well! But she is got rid
she did with such effect, that she kept her in of at last, and decamps with all the Princess'
a continual roar of laughter before all the wardrobe, who is left without a rag to cover
court. The Czar himself is described as tall her nakedness. Soon after this, the King is
and rather handsome, though with something taken with a colic one very hot June, and is
intolerably harsh in his physiognomy. On judiciously shut up in a close room with a
first seeing our royal author he took her up in large comfortable fire; by the side of which
his arms, and rubbed the skin off her face in he commands his daughter to sit, and watch
kissing her with his rough beard; laughing like a vestal, till her eyes are ready to start
very heartily at the airs with which she re- from her head; and she falls into a dysentery,
sented this familiarity. He was liable at of which she gives a long history.




MEMOIRS OF MARGRAVINE O0  BAREITH.                          253
Being now at the ripe age of twelve, her history, we suppose, comes nears the profli.
mother taKes her into ner confidence, and be- gacy of the Court -of Dresden at that period.
gins with telling her, that there are certain Augustus, who never closed a day in sobriety,
people who are her enemies, to whom she openly kept a large seraglio in his palace,
commands her never to show any kindness or and had about three hundred and fifty chilcivility..She then proceeds to name "three dren by its inhabitants. One of those who
fourths of all Berlin.">  But her great object had all along been recognized as his daughis to train her daughter to be a spy on her ter, was at this time his favourite mistress;
father, and at the same time to keep every while she, disdaining to be faithful to this inthing secret from him  and his counsellors; cestuous connection, lavished all her favour
and'to arrange measures for a match between. on a brother, who was her avowed lover, and
her anwl aer nephew the Duke of Gloucester the- rival of their common parent!-Frederic,
-afte-?r rds Prince of Wales, on the acces- however, was so much pleased with these
sion c:.'is father George II. In 1723, George doings, that he entered into a treaty for marI. comes to visit his daughter at Berlin, and is rying his daughter to this virtuous elector,
characterised, we cannot say very favourably, who was then fifty years of age; and the year
by his grandchild. He was very stupid, she after, Augustus came to Berlin, to follow out
says, with great airs of wisdom-had no gen- his suit, where he was received in great state,
erosity but for his favourites, and the mis- and the daughter-mistress caressed by the
tresses by whom he let himself be governed  chaste queen and her daughter. There is a
-spoke little, and took no pleasure in hearing good description of a grand court dinner given
any thing but niaiseries:-since his accession on this occasion; in which, after a long acto the English throne he had also become in- count of the marshalling of princes and prinsupportably haughty and imperious. When cesses  the business of the day is summed up
the fair author was presented to him. he took in the following emphatic words-On but
up a candle, held it close to her face, and ex- force sants —on parla peu —et on s'cnnuya
amined her all over without saying a word: beaucoup! The two kings, however, had vaat table he preserved the same magnificent rious tfte-a-tMte parties that were more jolly;
silence;judging wisely, the Princess observes, and in which they continued at table from
that it was better to say nothing than to ex- one o'clock, which was their hour of dinner,
pose himself by talking. Before the end of till near midnight. In spite of all this corthe repast he was taken ill; and tumbled down diality, however, the treaty of marriage was
on the floor, his hat falling off on one side, broken off: the heir-apparent of Augustus
and his wig on the other. It was a full hour having obstinately refused to rat fy those artibefore he came to himself; and it was whis- cles in it which required his concurrence.
pered that it was a sort of apoplexy: How-   The King now resolved to match his daughever, he was well enough next day; and ter with a poor German prince, called the
arranged every thing for the marriage of the Duke of Weissenfield; at which his wife, who
author with his grandson, and of her brother had been all this time intriguing busily to
with the Princess Amelia. Obstacles arose, bring about the union originally preojected
however, to the consummation of this double with the Prince of Wales, is in despair, and
alliance; and although the two Sovereigns had persuades him to let her make one effort more
another meeting on the subject the year after, to bring her brother of England to a determistill the necessity of obtaining the consent of nation. And here we have a very curious
parliament occasioned an obstruction; and in piece of secret history, which, though ittouches
the mean time Frederic having thought fit to the policy of the Court of.England, has hitherto
seize several tall Hanoverians, and enrol them  been unknown, we believe, in this country.
by force in his regiment of giants, the English A confidential agent arrives from Hanover,
monarch resented this outrage. and died of who informs the Queen, that the Prince of
another attack of apoplexy before matters Wales has made up his mind to come imme.
could be restored to a right footing.     diately to Berlin, and to marry her daughter,
Soon after this catastrophe, Frederic takes without waiting for the formal consent of his
to drinking with the Imperial ambassador; father, or the English Parliament, who, howand, when his stomach gets into disorder, ever, he has no doubt. will neither of them
becomes outrageously pious; orders his valet hesitate to ratify the act when it is once
to sing psalms before him, and preaches him- over.  The Queen is transported with this
self to his family every afternoon. The news; and is so much intoxicated with joy
Princess and her brother are ready to suffo- on the occasion, that she bethinks herself of
cate with laughter at these discourses; but confiding the whole story in the evening to
the hypochondria gains ground; and at last the English ambassador —who instantly writes
the King talks seriously of resigning his home to his Court: and, his letter being adcrown, and retiring with his family to a small dressed to the Secretary of State, produces an
house in the country; where his daughter immediate mandate to the Prince, to set out
should take care of the linen, his son of the for England without the delay of a moment.
provisions, and his wife of the kitchen. To This mandate arrives just as his Royal High.
divert these melancholy thoughts, he is per- ness is taking post with bridal impatience for
suaded to pay a visit to the Elector of Saxony, Berlin: and, as it is addressed to him through
Augustus King of Poland; and there, large the public offices, requires his implicit obe.
potations of Hungarian wine speedily dissipate dience. The truth of the matter is, the Prin.
all his dreams of devotion. Nothing in modern ces' assures us, that George II. was himself
W




254                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
desirous that the match should be concluded pitched on a terrace, with scarcely any thing
without waiting for the uncertain sanction of to eat. and their feet up to the ancles in mud,
his Parliament, and had suggested this device if the  weather happened to be rainy. After
of a seeming etourderie on the part of his son; dinner, which was served exactly at noon,
but the indiscretion of her mother, in blabbing the good king set himself down to sleep for
the matter to the ambassador, and his cornm- two hours, in a great chair placed in the full
munication to the ministry, left the monarch glare of the sun, and compelled all his family
no choice, but to dissemble his mortification, to lie on the ground around him; exposed to
and lend his authority to prevent the execu- the same intolerable scorching.
tion of a project which had originated with   After some little time, England sends an.
himself.                                 other ambassador, who renews in due form the
But, whatever may be the true theory of proposal of the double marriage, and offers
this disaster, it seems to be certain, that the such baits to the avarice or the King that mat
disappointment put the King of Prussia into ters appear once more to be finally adjusted
exceeding bad humour, and, concurring with and the princess is saluted by her household
an untimely fit of the gout, made the lives of with the title of Princess of Wales. This,
his family still more uncomfortable than he however, was not her destiny.  Grumkow
took care at all times to render them. The intrigues with the Imperial ambassador to
account indeed which is here given of the break off the match-and between them they
domestic habits of this worthy sovereign) contrive to persuade the King that he is made
though humiliating in some degree to human a tool of by the Queen and her brother of
nature, has yet something in it so extrava- England: and inflame him to such a rage by
gant, as to be actually ludicrous and farcical. producing specimens of their secret correHe ordered his children to come to his apart- spondence, that when the English ambassador
ment at nine o'clock every morning, and kept appears next day with decisive proofs of
them close prisoners there the whole day, Grumkow's treachery and insolence, the King
not letting them once out of his sight, "pour throws the papers in his face, and actually
quelque raison qjue ce fut."  His' employment lifts his foot, as if to give him thefamily salute
was to curse and abuse them with every of a kick. The blood of the Englishman
coarse term of reproach,-his daughter getting rouses at this insult; and he puts himself in a
no other name than la Canaille Anglaise, and posture to return the compliment with interhis son, le Coquin de Fritz. He had always est, when the King makes a rapid retreatbeen in the practice of famishing them; partly and the ambassador, in spite of the entreaties
out of avarice, and partly from the, love of of the Queen and her children, and various
tormenting; but now even the soup made of overtures of apology from the King himself,
bare bones and salt was retrenched. He often shakes the dust of Berlin from his feet, and
refused to let them have any thing whatso- sets off in high dudgeon for London. The
ever; and spit into the dishes out of which he King then swears that his daughter shall have
had helped himself, in order to prevent their no husband at all, but that he will make her
touching them!  At other times he would abbess in the monastery of Herford — and
insist upon their eating all sorts of unwhole- her brother Frederic, to her great mortificasome and disgusting compositions-" ce qui tion, tells her it is the best thing she can do,
nous obligeait quelquefois de rendre, en sa and that he sees no other way to restore peace
presence, tout ce que nous avions dans le in the family.
corps!"  Even this, however, was not the   We now proceed to the adventures of this
worst of it. He very frequently threw the brother, which, as their outline is already
plates at their heads; and scarcely ever let generally known, need not be fully narrated
his daughter go out of the room, without aim- in this place. Tired of being beaten and
ing a sly blow at her with the end of his kicked and reviled all day long, he resolves
crutch. The unhappy Frederic he employed to withdraw from his country, and makes
himself almost every morning in caning and some movements to that effect in confederacy
kicking for a long time together; and was with an officer of the name of Katt, who was
actually, upon one occasion, in the act of to have been the companion of his flight.
strangling him with the cord of.a window  Both, however, are arrested by the King's
curtain, when he was interrupted by one of order, who makes several attempts upon the
his domestics. To make amends, however, life of his son, when he is brought as a prisoner
he once hung up himself; when the Queen, before him-and comes home foaming and
by a rare act of folly, was induced to cut him  black with passion, crying out to the Queen
down. When free from gout, he was still that her accursed son was dead at last; and
more dangerous; for then he could pursue his felling his daughter to the earth with his fist,
daughters with considerable agility when they as he tells her to go and bear her brother comran away from his blows; and once caught pany. He then gets hold of a box of his son's
the author, after a chase of this kind, when papers, which had been surprised at Katt's
he clutched her by the hair, and pushed her lodgings, and goes out with it in great spirits
into the fireplace, till her clothes began to exclaiming that he was sure he should find
burn. During the heats of summer, he fre- in it enough to justify him in cutting off the
quently carried his family to a country-house, heads both of le Coquin de Fritz, and la Ca.
called Vousterhausen, which was an old ruin- naille de Wilhelmine. Wilhelmine) however
ous mansion, surrounded with a putrid ditch; and her politic mother had been beforehand
wnd there they dined every day, in a tent with him-for they had got hold of this same




MEMOIRS OF MARGRAVINE OF BAREITH.                           255
box the day preceding, and by false keys and destiny pursues her. The fatal evening arseals had taken all the papers out of it, and rives; and the Princess, with a train forty-fiver
replaced them by harmless and insignificant feet in length, and the spousal crown placed
letters, which they had fabricated in the on twenty-four twisted locks of false hair
course of one day, to the amount of near each thicker than her arm, enters the grand
seven hundred. The King, therefore, found saloon, and takes the irrevocable vow — and
nothing to justify immediate execution; but her mother has just put her to bed, when she
kept the Prince a close prisoner at Custrin, hears that her courier has arrived, and leaves
and shut the Princess up in her own chamber. her in rage and anguish.
His son and Katt were afterwards tried for   The humours of the rest of the family apdesertion. before a court-martial composed of pear to no great advantage during the bridal
twelve officers: Two were for sparing the festivities. In the first place, the Princess'
life of the Prince, but all the rest were base sister, Charlotte. falls in love with the brideenough to gratify the sanguinary insanity of groom, and does her possible to seduce him.
their master by condemning them  both to Then old Frederic cheats the bride in her
death. All Germany, however, exclaimed settlements, which amount to a gross sum of
loudly against this sentence; and made such near 5001. a year;-and, finally, her brotherrepresentations to the King, that he was at in-law, the Margrave of Anspach, rallies her
last constrained to spare his son. But the husband so rudely upon his mother's gallanunhappy Katt was sacrificed. His scaffold tries, that the latter gives him a brave defiwas erected immediately before the window  ance in the face of the whole court; at which
of his unhappy master. who was dressed by the poor Margrave is so dreadfully frightened,
force in the same funeral garment with his that he bursts out into screams and tears, and
friend, and was held up at the window by runs for refuge into the Queen's apartment,
two soldiers, while the executioner struck off where he hides himself behind the arras, from
the head of his companion.  There is no which he is taken in a filthy condition, and:ecord of such brutal barbarity in the history carried to his apartments, " oi il exhala sa
of Nero or Domitian.                      coldre par des vomissemens et un diarrhbe
After this, the family feuds about his daugh- qui pensa 1Fenvoyer a l'autre monde." —Yet
ter's marriage revive with double fury. The the good Princess assures us, that this reptile
Queen, whose whole heart is set on the Eng- had " a good heart and a good understanding,s
lish alliance, continues her petty intrigues to -with no fault but being a little passionate;
effect that object; while the King, rendered and then, in the very next page, she records a
furious by the haughty language adopted by malignant and detected falsehood which he
the English ministry on the subject of the in- had vented against her husband, and which
suit offered to their ambassador, determines rendered him ocious in the eyes of the whole
to have her married without a moment's court.  Being dissatisfied with her settledelay; and after threatening the Queen with ments, she puts the King in a good humouf by
his cane, sends to offer her the hand of the giving a grand dinner to him and his officers,
Prince of Bareith; which she dutifully ac- at which they are all " ivres morts;" but
cepts, in spite of the bitter lamentations and having mentioned her distresses through the
outrageous fury of the Queen.  That in- Queen, he is so much moved with them, that
triguing princess, however, does not cease to he calls for the settlements, and strikes off
intrigue, though deserted by her daughter-  about one fourth of her allowance.
but sends again in greater urgency than ever   All this happened in autumn 1731; and in
to England; —and that court, if we are to be- January 1732, the Princess being far advanced
lieve the statement before us, at last seriously in pregnancy, and the roads almost impassaafraid of losing a match every way desir- ble, it was thought advisable for her to set out
able, sends off despatches, containing an en- for her husband's court at Bareith. She is
tire  and unqualified acquiescence in all overturnedof course several times, and obliged
Frederic's stipulations as to the marriage-  to walk half the way: —But we pass over the
which arrive at Berlin the very morning of disasters of the journey, to commemorate her
the day on which the Princess was to be so- arrival in this ancient principality. The first
lemnly betrothed to M. de Bareith, but are village she reached was Hoff, which is on the
wickedly kept back by Grumkow and the frontier-and has also the convenience of
Imperial Envoy, till after the ceremony had being within three miles of the centre of the
been publicly and irrevocably completed. territory: and here the grand marshal, and all
Their disclosure then throws all parties into the nobility of the province are mustered to
rage and despair; and the intriguers are made receive her at the bottom of the staircase, or,
the ridiculous victims of their own baseness in other words, of the wooden ladder which
and duplicity. The indefatigable Queen, how- led to her apartments.  However, various
ever does not despair even yet; but sends off' guns were fired off very successfully, and the
another courier to England, and sets all her chief nobility were invited to dinner. The
emissaries to prepare the King to break off Princess' description of these personages is
the match in the event of the answer being really very edif ing. They had all faces, she
favourable; -nay, the very night before the says, which a child could not look on without
marriage, she takes her daughter apart, and screaming; —huge masses of hair on their
begs her to live with her husband as a sister heads, filled with a race of vermin as ancient
with her brother, for a few days, till the result as their pedigrees;-clothed in old laced suits
the embassage is known. But her usual that had descended through many generations




256                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIR;S.
the most part in rags, and no way fitting their damask all in tatters. Her bedchamber was
present wearers; —the greater part of them  also furnished with the same stuff-but in
covered with itch — and their conversation, of such a condition, that the curtains fell in
oxen. Immediately after dinner they began pieces whenever they were touched. Half
with the Princess' health in a huge bumper, of the windows were broken, and there was
and proceeded regularly in the same gallant no fire; though it was midwinter. The dinmanner through the whole of her genealogy; ners were not eatable j and lasted three hours,
-so that in less than half an hour she found witL thirty flourishes of the old trumpets for
herself in the middle of thirty-four monsters, the bumper toasts with which they were enso drunk that none of them could articulate, livened: Add to all this, that the poor Printet rendant les boyaux a tous ces desastreux cess was very much indisposed-that the
visages.';  Next day being Sunday, there was Margrave came and talked to her out of Telea sermon in honour of the occasion, in which maque and Amelot, five or six hours every day
the preacher gave an exact account of all the -and that she could not muster cash enough
marriages that had happened in the world, to buy herself a gown: and it will not appear
from the days of Adam down to the last of wonderful, that in the very midst of the wedthe patriarchs-illustrated with so many cir- cing revelries, she spent half her time in bed,
cumstantial details as to the antecedents and weeping over the vanity of human grandeur.
con.sequents in each, that the male part of the   By and by, however, she found occupaaudience laughed outright, and the female tion in quarrelling with her sisters-in-law, and
pretended to blush throughout the whole dis- in making and appeasing disputes between
course. The dinner scene was the same as her husband and his father.  She agrees
on the day preceding; with the addition of so ill, indeed, with all the family, that her
the female nobility who came in the evening, proposal of returning to lie-in at Berlin is rewith their heads enveloped in greasy wigs ceived with great joy: —but while they are
like swallows' nests, and ancient embroidered deliberating about raising money for this
dresses, stuck all over with knots of faded journey of two hundred miles, she becomes
ribands.                                  too ill to move. Her sister of Anspach. and
The day following, the Margrave, her father- her husband, come, and quarrel with her
in-law, came himself to meet her.  This upon points of etiquette; the Margrave falls
worthy prince was nearly as amiable, and not in love with one of her attendants; and in
quite so wise, as the royal parent she had left. the midst of all manner of perplexities she
He had read but two books in the world, is delivered of a daughter. The Margrave,
Telemaque, and Amelot's Roman history, and who was in the country, not happening to
discoursed out of them so very tediously, that hear the cannon which proclaimed this great
the poor Princess fainted from mere ennui at event, conceives that he is treated with great
the very first interviewv;-Then he drank night disrespect, and gives orders for having his
and day-and occasionally took his cane to son imprisoned in one of his fortresses. He
the prince his son, and his other favourites. relents, however, at the christening; and is
Though living in poverty and absolute dis- put in good humour by a visit from another
comfort, he gave himself airs of the utmost son and a brother-the first of whom is desmagnificence — went to dinner with three cribed as a kind of dwarf and natural fool,
flourishes of cracked trumpets-received his who could never take seriously to any emcourt, leaning with one hand on a table, in ployment but catching flies; and the other as
imitation of the Emperor-and conferred his a furious madman, in whose company no one
little dignities in harangues so pompous, and was sure of his life. This amiable family
so awkwardly delivered, that his daughter-in- party is broken up, by an order on the Prinlaw at once laughed and was ashamed of cess' husband to join his regiment at Berlin,
him. He was awkward, too, and embarrassed and another order from her father for her to
in the society of strangers of good breeding-  pay a visit to her sister at Anspach. On her
but made amends by chattering without end, way she visits an ancient beauty, with a nose
about himself and his two books, to those like a beetroot, and two maids of honour so
who were bound to bear with him. Under excessively fat that they could not sit down;
the escort of this great potentate the Princess and, in stooping to kiss the Princess' hand.
made her triumphal entry into the city of Ba- fell over, and rolled like balls of flesh on the
reith the next morning: the whole procession carpet. At Anspach, she finds the Margrave
consisting of one coach, containing the con- deep in an intrigue with the housemaid; and
stituted authorities who had come out to meet consoles her sister under this affliction. She
her, her own carriage drawn by six carrion then makes a great effort, and raises money
post-h6rses, that containing her attendants, enough to carry her to Berlin; where she is
and six or seven wagons loaded with furni- received with coldness and ridicule by the
ture. The Margrave then conducted her from  Queen, and neglect and insult by all her
the palace gate in great state to her apart- sisters.  Her brother's marriage with the
ments, through a long passage, hung with Princess of Brunswick was just about to
cobwebs, and so abominably filthy as to turn take place, and we choose to give in her own
her stomach in hurrying through it.  This words her account of the manner in which
opened into an antechamber, adorned with she was talked over in this royal circle.
oli tapestry, so torn and faded that the figures   "La reine, a table, fit tomber la conversation
or. it looked like so many ghosts; and titrough sur la princesse royale future.' Votre fre're,' me
that into a cabinet furnished with green dit elle en le regardant,' estau desespoir de l'6pou.




MEMOIRS OF MARGRAVINE OF BAREITH.
mr, et rn'a pas tort: c'est une vraibete; elle r6pond mother, and the slights of her whole generaa tout ce qu'on lut dit par un oui et un non, ac- tion.  Their domestic life when these galas
compagne d'un rire niais qui fait mal au cceur.'' Oh!' dit ma sceur Charlotte,'votre Majestd ne ere over, was  nearly as fagung, and stll
connoit pas encore tout son me'rite. J'ai e6t6 un more lugubrious.  The good old custom  of
matin a sa toilette; j'ai cru y suffoquer; elle exha- famishing was kept up at table; and immeloit une odeur insupportable! Je crois qu'elle a diately after dinner the King had his great
pour le moins dix ou douze fistules-car cela n'est chair placed right before the fire, and snored
pas naturel. J'ai remarque aussi qu'elle est con- in it for three hours during all which they
trefaite; son corps de jupe est rembourr6 d'un were obliged to keep silence, for fear of discot6, et elle a une hanche plus haute que l'au- wrh en h                    e a    roke   he   set to
tre.' Je fus fort 6tonn6e de ces propos, qui se te- turbing him.  When he awoke, he set to
noient en presence des domestiques-et surtout de smoking tobacco; —and then sate four hours
mon frere!  Je m'apernus qu'ils lui faisoient de at supper, listening to long stories of his
la peine et qu'il changeoit de couleur.  II se ancestors, in  the  taste  of those sermons
retira aussitot apres souper. J'en fis autant. I1 which  are prescribed to persons afflicted
vint me voir un moment apres. Je lui demandai with insomnolency.   Then the troops began
s'il 6toit satisfait du roi? II me r6pondit que sawth   nsomnolency. Then the     troops began
situation changeoit a tout moment; que tantt il their exercise under the windows before four
/toit en faveur et tantot en disgrace; que son plus o'clock every morning,-and not only kept
grand bonheur consistoit dans l'absence; qu'il me- the whole household awake from that hour
noit une vie douce et tranquille a son regiment; by their firing, but sometimes sent a ramque l'6tude et la musique y tfisoient ses principales
occupations; qu'il avoit fait baltir une maison et fait  od through the glass to assist at thePrincess' toilette. One afternoon the King was
faire un jardin charmant ou il pouvoit lire et se cess' toilette.  One afternoon the King was
promener. Je le pria de me dire si le portrait que seized with a sort of apoplexy in his sleep,
la reine et ma sceur m'avoient fait de la Princesse which, as he always snored extremely loud,
de Brunswick'toit veritable?'Nous sommes might have carried him  off without much
seuls,' repartit-il,' et je n'ai rien de cach6 pour observation, had not his daughter observed
vous. Je vous parlerai avec sinceritE.  La reine. him grow black in the face, and restored him
par ses miserables intrigues, est la seule source
e nos malheurs.  A peine avez-vous ete partie by timely applications.  She is equally unqu'elle a renoue' avec l'Angleterre; elle a voulu fortunate about the same time in her fathervous substituer ma scour Charlotte, et lui faire epou- in-law  the Margrave, who is mischievous
ser le Prince de Galles.  Vois jugez bien qu'elle enough to recover) after breaking a blooda employe tous ses efforts pour faire reussir son plan vessel by falling down stairs in a fit of
et pour me marier avec la Princesse Am6lie.'"    drunkenness.  At last she gets away with
drunkenness. At last she gets away with
The poor Prince, however, confesses that great difficulty, and takes her second leave
ae cannot say much for the intellect of his of the parental roof, with even less regard
intended bride; —and really does not use a for its inhabitants than she had felt on first
much nobler language than the rest of the quitting its shelter.
family, even when speaking in her presence;   On her return to Bareith, she finds the old
for on her first presentation to his sister, find- Margrave quite broken in health, but extravaing that she made no answer to the compli- gantly and honourably in love with a lame,
ments that were addressed to her, the enam- dwarfish, middle-aged lady, the sister of her
oured youth encourages her bridal timidity  ancient governess, whom  he  proposes to
by this polite exclamation,   Peste soit de la marry, to the great discomfiture of the Prinbete!-remercie done ma scour!   The ac- cess and his son. They remonstrate with the
count of the festivities which accompanied  lady, however, on the absurdity of such an
this marriage really excites our compassion; union; and she promises to be cruel, and live
and is well calculated to disabuse any inex- single.  In the mean time, one of the Marperienced person of the mistake of suppo- grave's daughters is taken with a kind of
sing, that there can be either comfort or en- madness of a very indecorous character;
joyment in the cumbrous splendours of a which  indicates itself by frequent impro-.
court.  Scanty and crowded dinners at mid- prieties of speech, and a habit of giving inviday-and formal balls and minuets imme- tations, of no equivocal sort, to every man
diately after, in June, followed up with dull that comes near her. The worthy Margrave,
gaming in the evening;-the necessity of at first undertakes to cure this very troublebeing up in full dress by three o'clock in the some complaint by a brisk course of beating;
morning to see a review-and the pleasure but this not being found to answer, it is
of being stifled in a crowded tent without thought expedient to try the effect of marseeing any thing, or getting any refreshment riage; and, that there may he no harm done
for seven or eight hours, and then to return  to any body, they look out a certain Duke of
famishing to a dinner of eighty covers;-  Weimar. who is as mad as the lady —though
at other times to travel ten miles at a foot- somewhat in a different way.  This prince's
pace in an open carriage during a heavy rain, malady consisted chiefly in great unsteadiand afterwards to stand shivering on the wet ness of purpose, and a trick of outrageous
grass to see fireworks —to pay twenty visits and inventive boasting.  Both the Princess
of ceremony every morning, and to present and her husband, however, take great pains
and be presented in stately silence to persons to bring about this well-assorted match; and-.
whom you hate and despise.  Such were the by dint of flattery and intimidation, it. is
general delights of the whole court; —and  actually carried through-though the brideour Princess had the additional gratification groom sends a piteous message on the mornof being forced from  a sick-bed to enjoy ing of his wedding day, begging to be let oft;
them, and of undergoing the sneers of her and keeps them  from twelve till four o'clock
17




*5S8                   HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
in the morning before he can be persuaded  seems to have given her the worst opinion of
to go to bed.  In the mean time, the Princess him, was his impolite habit of making jokes
gives great offence to the populace and the about the small domains and scanty revenues
preachers of Bareith, by giving a sort of of her husband.  For the two following years
masked  ball, and  riding  occasionally  on she travels all over Germany, abusing all the
horseback.  Her husband goes to the wars; principautis she meets with. In 1742, she
and returns very much out of humour with goes to see the coronation of the new Emperor
her brother Frederic, who talks contemptu- at Francfort, and has a long negotiation about
ously of little courts and little princes.  The the ceremony of her introduction to the Emold Margrave falls into a confirmed hectic, press. After various projets had been offered
and writes billets-doux to his little lady, so and rejected, she made these three conditions:
tender as to turn one's stomach; but at last — 1st, That the whole cortige of the Empress
dies in an edifying manner, to the great satis- should receive her at the bottom of the stairfaction of all his friends and acquaintances. case.  2dly, That the Empress herself should
Old Frederic promises fair, at the same time, come to meet her at the outside of the door
to follow his example; for he is seized with of her bed-chamber.  And, 3dly, That she
a confirmed dropsy.  His legs swell, and  should be allowed an arm-chair during the
burst; and give out so much water, that he interview.  Whole days were spent in the
is obliged for several days to sit with them  discussion of this proposition; and at last the
in buckets.  By a kind of miracle, however, two first articles were agreed to; but all
he recovers, and goes a campaigning  for that she could make of the last was, that she
several years after.                          should have a very large chair, without arms,
The Memoirs are rather dull for four or and the Empress a very small one, with them
five years after the author's accession to the -Her account of the interview we add in her
throne of Bareith. She makes various jour- own words.
neys, and suffers from various distempers-      "Je vis cette Princesse le jour suivant. J'avoue
has innumerable quarrels with all the neigh- qu'a sa place j'aurois imagine toutes les 6tiquettes
bouring potentates about her own precedence et les ceremonies du monde pour m'empecher de
and that of her attendants; fits up several paroltre. L'Imperatrice estd'une taille au-dessous
villas, gives balls- and sometimes quarrels de la petite, et si puissante qu'elle semble une
villa, gives balls; and sometimes quarrels boule; elle est laide au possible, sans air et sans
with her husband, and sometimes nurses him  grace. Son esprit r6pond a sa figure; elle est
in his illness.  In 1740, the King, her father, bigotte a l'exces, et passe les nuits et les jours dans
dies in good earnest; and makes, it must be son oratoire: les vieilles et les laides sont ordinaireacknowledged, a truly heroic, though some- ment le partage du bon Dieu! Elle me rebut en
what whimsical, ending.  Finding himself tremblant et d'un air si d6contenance qu'elle ne
fast going, he had himself placed early in the put me dire un mot. Nous nous asslmes. Apres
ast going he had himself placed early in   avoir gard6 quelque temps le silence, je comrnmenva
morning in his wheel-chair, and goes himself la conversation en frangais. Elle me repondit, dans
to tell the Queen that she must rise and see son jargon autrichien, qu'elle n'entendoit pas bien
him die.  He then takes farewell of his chil- cette langue, et qu'elle me prioit de lui parler en
dren; and gives some sensible advice to his allemand. Cet entretien ne fut pas long. Le dia
sion, and the ministers and generals whom he lecte autrichien et le bas-saxon sont si diffrens,,on;  and the ministers and general*s  whom he qu'a moins d'y etre accoutume on ne se comprend
had assembled.  Afterwards he has his best point. C'est aussi ce qui nous arriva. Nous aurions
horse brought, and presents it with a good pr6pare it rire a un tiers par les coq-h-l'ane que
grace to the oldest of his generals.  He next nous faisions, n'entendant que par-ci par-la un mot,
ordered all the servants to put on their best qui nous faisoit deviner le reste. Cette princesse
i liv~eries; and, when this was done, he looked  etoit si fort esclave de son etiquette qu'elle auroit
on  them  with an air of derision  and saidcru faire un crime de 1ese-grandeur en m'entreteon fherm  with an air of derision, and said, nant dans une langue 6trangere; car elle savoit le
~"Vznity of ianities!"  He then commanded  franpais! L'Empereur devoit se trouver a cette.his jhysician to tell him exactly how long he visite; mais il 6toit tombe si malade qu'on craignoit
had cto live; and when he was answered, meme pour ses jours."-pp. 345, 346.
f"about half an hourf he asked for a looking-   After this she comes home in a very bad
glass, and said with a smile, that he certainly humour; and the Memoirs break off abruptly
did look ill enough, and saw  ":qutil ferait with her detection of an intrigue between her
une vikzine grimace en mourant!   When the husband anti her favourite attendant and her
clergymen proposed to come and pray with dissatisfaction with the dull formality of the
him, le said, "he knew already all they had court of Stutgard.  We hope the sequel will
to say,,and that they might go about their soon find its way to the public.
business."  In a short time after he expired,   Some readers may think we have dwelt too
in great tranquillity.                       long on such a tissue of impertinencies; and
Though the new  ing came to visit his sister others may think an apology requisite for the
soon after his accession, and she went to re- tone of levity in which we have spoken of so
* turn the compliment at Berlin, she says there many atrocities.  The truth is, that we think
was no longer any cordiality between them; this book of no trifling importance; and that
and that she heard nothing but complaints of we could not be serious upon the subject of it
his avarice;his ill temper, his ingratitude, and  without being both sad and angry.  Before
his arrogance.  She gives him  great credit concluding, however. we shall add one word
for talents; but entreats her readers to sus- in seriousness-to avoid the misconstructions
pend their;judgment as to the real character to which we might otherwise be liable.,of this celebrated monarch, till they have   We are decidedly of opinion, that Monarchy,
-perused the whole of her Memoirs. What and Hereditary Monarchy, is by far the bes'




IRVING'S COLUMBUS.                                259
form of government that human wisdom has   In the second place, we presume to think
yet devised for the administration of consider- that the general adoption of these opinions as
able nations; and that it will always continue to the personal defects that are likely to result
to be the most perfect which human virtue from the possession of sovereign power, may
will admit of. We are not readily to be sus- be of use to the sovereigns themselves, from
pected, therefore, of any wish to produce a whom the knowledge of their prevalence candistaste or contempt for this form of govern- not be very long concealed. Such knowledge,
meat; and beg leave to say, that though the it is evident, will naturally stimulate the better
facts wte nave now collected are certainly sort of them to counteract the causes which
sucn as to give no favourable impression of tend to their personal degradation; and enable
the private manners or personal -dispositions them more generally to surmount their peraf absolute sovereigns, we conceive that good, nicious operation, by such efforts and reflecrather than evil. is likely to result from their tions, as have every now and then rescued
dissemination.'This we hold, in the first some powerful spirits from their dominion,
place, on the strength of the general maxim, under all the.disadvantages of the delusions
that all truth must be ultimately salutary, and with which they were surrounded.
all deception pernicious. But we think we   Finally, if the general prevalence of these
can see a little how this maxim applies to the sentiments as to the private manners and disparticular case before us.                positions of sovereigns should have the effect
In the first place, then, we think it of ser- of rendering the bulk of their subjects less
vice to the cause of royalty, in an age of vio- prone to blind admiration, and what may be
lent passions and rash experiments to show  called personal attachment to them, we do
that most of the vices and defects which such not imagine that any great harm will be done.
times are apt to bring to light in particular The less the public knows or cares about the
sovereigns, are owing, not so much to any par- private wishes of their monarch, and the more
ticular unworthiness or unfitness in the indi- his individual will is actually consubstantiated
vidual. as to the natural operation of the cir- with the deliberate sanctions of his responsible
cumstances in which he is placed; and are counsellors, the more perfectly will the pracsuch, in short, as those circumstances have tice of government correspond with its adalways generated in a certain degree in those mitted theory; the more wisely will affairs be
who have been exposed to them. Such con- administered for the public, and the more
siderations, it appears to us, when taken along harmoniously and securely both for the sovewith the strong and irresistible arguments for reign and the people. An adventurous warmonarchical government in general, are well rior may indeed derive signaladvantages from
calculated to allay that great impatience and the personal devotedness and enthusiastic atdangerous resentment with which nations tachment of his followers; but in the civil
in turbulent times are apt to consider the office of monarchy, as it exists in modern
faults of their sovereigns; and to unite with times, the only safe attachment is to the office,
a steady attachment and entire respect for and to the measures which it sanctions. The
the office, a very great degree of indulgence personal popularity of princes, in so far as we
for the personal defects of the individual who know, has never done any thing but harm:
may happen to fill it. Monarchs, upon this and indeed it seems abundantly evident, that
view of things, are to be considered as per- whatever is done merely for the personal
sons who are placed, for the public good, in gratification of the reigning monarch, that
situations where, not only their comfort, but would not have been done at any rate on
their moral qualities, are liable to be greatly grounds of public expediency, must be an
impaired; and who are poorly paid in empty injury to the community, and a sacrifice of
splendour, and anxious power, for the sacri- duty to an unreturned affection; and whatever
fice of their affections, and of the many en- is forborne out of regard to his pleasure which
gaging qualities which might have blossomed the interest of the country would otherwise
in a lower region. If we look with indulgence have required, is in like manner an act of base
upon the roughness of sailors, the pedantry of and unworthy adulation. We do not speak,
schoolmasters, and the frivolousness of beau- it will be understood, of trifles or things of little
ties, we should learn to regard, with some- moment; but of such public acts of the gov.
thing of the same feelings, the selfishness and ernment as involve the honour or the interest
the cunning of kings.                    I of the nation.
( epternber, 1828.)
History of the Life and Voyages of CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. By WASHINGTON IRVING.
4 vols. 8vo. London: 1828.
THIS, on the whole, is an excellent book; ness of all that it implies. We are perfectly
and we venture to anticipate that it will be an aware that there are but few modem works
enduring one. Neither do we hazard this that are likely to verify it; and that it probably
prediction lightly, orwithout a full conscious- could not be extended with safety to so many




260                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
as one in a hundred even of those which we think it peculiarly fortunate that the nleans
praise. For we mean, not merely that the of completing it should have fallen into such
book will be familiarly known and referred hands as Mr. Irving's. The materials, it was
to some twentyuor thirty years hence, and obvious, were only to be found in Spain, and
will pass in solid binding into every consider- were not perhaps very likely to De intrusted
able collection; but that it will supersede all without reserve to a stranger; while there
former works on the same subject, and never was reason to fear that a Spaniard might not
be itself superseded.  The first stage of have courage to speak of the errors and crimes
triumph, indeed, over past or existing com- of his countrymen in the tone which the truth
petitors, may often be predicted securely of of history might require; or might not think
* works of no very extraordinary merit; which, it safe, eveil yet, to expose the impolicy, or
treating of a progressive science, merely em- canvass the pretensions; of the government.
body, with some small additions, a judicious By a happy concurrence of circumstances. an
digest of all that was formerly known; and elegant writer, altogether unconnected either
are for the time the best works on the subject, with Spain br her rivals and enemies, and
merely because they are the last. But the known all over the civilized world as a man
second stage of literary beatitude, in which of intelligence and principle, of sound judgan author not only eclipses all existing rivals, ment, and a calm and indulgent temper, rebut obtains an immunity from the effects of paired to Madrid at a time when the publicaall future competition, certainly is not to be tion of Navarette had turned the public attenso cheaply won; and can seldom, indeed, be tion, in an extraordinary degree, to the
secured to any one, unless the intrinsic merit memorable era of Columbus; and, by the
of his production is assisted by the concur- force of his literary and personal character,
rence of some such circumstances as we think obtained the fullest disclosure of every thing
now hold out the promise of this felicity to that bore upon his history that was ever made,
the biographer of Columbus.               to native or foreigner,-at the same time that
Though the event to which his work relates he had the means of discussing personally,
is one which can never sink into insignificance with the best informed individuals of the naor oblivion, but, on the contrary, will probably tion, all the points on which the written docuexcite more interest with every succeeding ments might seem to leave room for doubt or
generation, till the very end of the world, yet explanation.
its importance has been already long enough   Of these rare advantages Mr. Irving has
apparent to have attracted the most eager at- availed himself, we think, with singular judgtention to every'thing connected with its de- ment and ability. He has written the history
tails; and we think we may safely say, that of the greatest event in the annals of mankind,
all the documents which relate to it have now  with the fulness and the feeling it deserved;
been carefully examined, and all the channels and has presented us with a flowing and conexplored through which any authentic infor- tinuous narrative of the events he had to
mation was likely to be derived. In addition to record, far more luminous and comprehensive
the very copious, but rambling and somewhat than any which previously existed, and yet
garrulous and extravagant accounts, which much less diffuse and discursive than the
were published soon after the discovery, and earlier accounts, from which it is mainly deand have since been methodised and arranged, rived:  While, without sacrificing in any
Don F. M. Navarette, a Spanish gentleman degree the intense interest of personal advenof great learning, and industry, and secretary ture and individual sympathy, he has brought
to the Royal Academy of History at Madrid, the lights of a more cultivated age to bear on
has lately given to the world a very extensive the obscure places of the story; and touched
collection of papers, relating to the history skilfully on the errors and prejudices of the
and voyages of Columbus; a very considerable times-at once to enliven his picture by their
portion of which appears not to have been singularity, and to instruct us by their explanaknown to any of those who had formerly tion or apology. Above all, he has composed
written on the subject.  Mr. Irving's first the whole work in a temper that is beyond
design was merely to publish a translation all praise. It breathes throughout a genuine
of this collection, with occasional remarks; spirit of humanity; and, embellished as it is
but having, during his residence at Madrid, with beautiful descriptions and wonderful
hnad access, by the kindness of the Duke of tales, its principal attraction in our eyes con.
V eraglas, the descendant of the great Ad- sists in its soft-hearted sympathy with suffermiral, to the archives of his family, and to ing, its fearless reprobation of injustice and
various other documents, still remaining in oppression, and the magnanimous candour of
manuscript, which had escaped the research its judgments, even on the delinquent.,ven of Navarette, he fortunately turned his   But though we think all this of Mr. Irving's
thoughts to the compilation of the more com- work, we suspect it may not be altogether
prehensive and original work now before us-  unnecessary to caution our more sensitive and:in which, by those great helps, he has been sanguine readers against giving way to certain
enabled, not only to supply many defects, feelings of disappointment, which it is not
but to correct many errors, and reconcile impossible they may encounter at the outset
some apparent contradictions in the earlier of their task; and to which two or three very
accounts.                           -     innocent causes are likely enough to expose
It was evidently very desirable that such a them. In thy first place, many great admirers
work should at length be completed; and we of Mr. Irving's former works will probably




IRVING'S COLUMBUS.                                  261
miss -he brilliant, highly finished, and ryth- I suppcse that the chief interest of the work
mical style, which attracted them so much ir must be exhausted by its completion. That
those performances; and may find the less portion of the story of Columbus has alwavs,
artificial and elaborate diction of this history from  obvious causes, been'given with more
comparatively weak and careless.  In this amplitude and fidelity than any other; and
judgment, however, we can by no means Mr. Irving, accordingly, has been able to add
agrte. Mr. Irving:s former style, though un- but few additional traits of any considerable
questionably very elegant and harmonious, importance.  But it is not there, we think,
always struck us as somewhat too laboured that the great interest or the true character
and exquisite-and, at all events, but ill fitted of the work is to be found. The mere geofor an extensive work, where the *interest graphical discovery, sublime as it undoubtedly
turned too much on the weight of the matter is, is far less impressive, to our minds) than
to be safely divided with the mere polish of the moral emotions to which it opens the
the diction, or the balance of the periods.-  scene. The whole history of the settlement
He has done well, therefore, we think, to dis- of Hispaniola, and the sufferings of its gentle
card it on this occasion, for the more varied, people-the daring progress of the greaz discareless, and natural style, which distinguishes coverer, through unheard-of forms of peril,
the volumes before us-a style not only without and the overwhelming disasters that seem at
sententious pretension, or antithetical pretti- last to weigh him  down, constitute the real
ness, but eveh in some degree loose and un- business of the piece; and are what truly bring
equal-flowing easily on, with something of out. not only the character of the man, but
the fulness and clearness of Herodotus or that of the events with which his memory is
Boccaccio-sometimes languid, indeed, and identified. It is here, too, that both the Fower
often inexact, but furnishing, in its very fresh- and the beauty of the author's style chiefly
ness and variety, the very best mirror, perhaps, display themselves-in his account of the
in which the romantic adventures, the sweet innocence and gentleness of the simple races
descriptions, orthe soft humanities, with which that were then first introduced to their elder
the author had to deal, could have been dis- brethren of Europe, and his glowing pictures
played.                                     of the lovely land. which ministered to their
Another, and perhaps a more general source primitive luxury-or in his many sketches of
of disappointment to impatient readers, is the great commander himself, now towering
likely to be found in the extent and minute- in paternal majesty in the midst of his newlyness of the prefatory details, with which Mr. found children-now invested with the dark
Irving has crowded the foreground of his pic- gorgeousness of deep and superstitious devoture, and detained us, apparently without tion, and burning thirst of fame-or, still more
necessity, from  its principal features. The sublime. in his silent struggles with malevogenealogy and education of Columbus —his lence and misfortune, and his steadfast reliearly love of adventure-his long and vain ance on the justice of posterity.
solicitations at the different European courts   The work before us embodies all these, and
— the intrigues and jealousies by which he many other touching representations; and in
was baffled-the prejudices against which he the vivacity of its colouring, and the novelt:
had to contend, and the lofty spirit and doubt- of its scene, possesses all the interests of %
ful logic by which they were opposed, —are novel of invention, with the startling and
all given with a fulness for which; however thrilling assurance of its actual truth and
instructive it may be, the reader, who knows exactness-a sentiment which enhances and
already what it is to end in, will be apt to feel every moment presses home to our hearts the
any thing but grateful.  His mind, from the deep pity and resentment inspired by the sufvery title-page, is among the billows of the ferings of the confiding beings it introduces
Atlantic and the islands of the Caribs; and to our knowledge-mingled with a feeling of
he does not submit without impatience to be something like envy and delighted wonder, at
informed of all the energy that was to be the story of their child-like innocence, and
exerted, and all the obstacles to be overcome. humble apparatus of enjoyment. No savages
before he can get there. It is only after we certainly ever were so engaging and loveable
have perused the whole work that we perceive as those savages. Affectionate, sociable, and
the fitness of these introductory chapters; and without cunning, sullenness, inconstancy, or
then, when the whole grand series of suffer- any of the savage vices, but an aversion from
ings and exploits has been unfolded, and the toil, which their happy climate at once
greatness of the event, and of the character spired and rendered innoxious, they seem to
with which it is inseparably blended, have have passed their days in blissful ignorance
been impressed on our minds, we feel how  of all that human intellect has contrived for
necessary it was to tell. and how grateful it is human misery; and almost to have enjoyed
to know, all that can now be known of the an exemption from  the doom that followed
causes by which both were prepared; and man's first unhallowed appetite for knowledge
instead of murmuring at the length of these of good and evil. It is appalling to think with
precious details, feel nothing but regret that what tremendous rapidity the whole of these
time should have so grievously abridged them. happy races were swept away! How soon,
The last disappointment, for which the after the feet of civilized Christians had touch.
reader should be prepared, will probably fall ed their shores, those shores were desolate
upon those who expect much new information *or filled only with mourning! How soolk, how
as to the first great voyage of discovery; or frightfully soon, the swarming myriads ot id-l




262                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
and light-hearted creatures, who came troop- neither full nor meagre; his complexion fair
ing from their fragrant woods to receive them  freckled, and inclined to ruddy; his nose aquiline
with smiles of welcome and gestures of wor- his cheek-bones were rather high; his eyes ligh
ship, aand whose songs and shoutings first grey, and apt to enkindle; his whole countenance
ship and     w       hose songs and shotings first dhad an air of authority. His hair, in his youthful
hailed them-so sweetly over their fresh and  days, was of a light colour; but care and trouble,
sunny bays, were plunged, by the hands of according to Las Casas, soon turned it grey, and at
those fatal visitants, into all the agonies of thirty years of age it was quite white. He was
despair!-how soon released from them by a moderate and simple in diet and apparel, eloquent
bloody extermination!  It humbles antd al- in discourse, engaging and affable with strangers,
most crushes the hearte even at this distance  and of an amiableness and suavity in domestic life,
most crushes the heart, even at this distance that strongly attached his household to his person.
of time, to think of such a catastrophe, brought His temper was naturally irritable; but he subdued it
about by such instruments. The learned, the  by the magnanimity of his spirit; comporting himeducated, the refined, the champions of chiv- self with a courteous and gentle gravity, and never in.
airy, the messengers of the gospel of peace, dulging in any intemperance of language. Throughout his life he was noted for a strict attention to the
the heathen.  They find them docile in their and ceremonies of the church; nor did his piety
ignorance, submissive in their rudeness, and  consist in mere forms, but partook of that lofty and
grateful and affectionate in their darkness:-  solemn enthusiasm with which his whole character
And the result of the mission is mutual cor- was strongly tinctured."
ruption, misery, desolation! The experience    For eighteen long years did the proud and
or remorse of four centuries has not yet been  ardent spirit of Columbus urge his heroic suit
able to expiate the crime, or to reverse the  at the courts of most of the European monspell.  Those once smiling and swarming  archs; and it was not till after encountering
shores are still silent and mournful; or re- in every form the discouragements of withersound only to the groans of the slave and the  ing poverty, insulting neglect, and taunting
lash of the slave-driver-or to the strange  ridicule, that, in his fifty-sixth year, he at last
industry of another race, dragged by a yet prevailed with Ferdinand and Isabella, to supdeeper guilt from  a distant land, and now  ply him with three little ships, to achieve for
calmly establishing themselves on the graves them  the dominion of a world! Mr. Irving
of their oppressors.                            very strikingly remarks,
We do not propose to give any thing like    "  fter the  reat d
an abstract of a story, the abstract of which  courts in furnishing this expedition, it is surprising
is already familiar to every one; awhile the  how inconsiderable an armament was required. It
details, like most other details. would lose is evident that Columbus had reduced his requihalf their interest, and all their "character,2 b   sitions to the narrowest limits, lest any great ex
being disjoined from  the narrative on which  pense should cause impediment. Three small ves,
they depend.  We   shall content ourselves, sels were apparetltly all that he had requested. Two
~they-depend. We shall content ourselves  of them were light barques, called caravals, not
therefore, by running over some of the par- superior to river and coasting craft of more modern
ticulars that are less generally known, and  days. Representations of this class of vessels exist
exhibiting a few  specimens of the author's in old prints and paintings.'hey are delineated as
manner of writing and thinking.             -  open, and without deck in the centre, but built up
Mr. Irving has settled, we think satisfacto- high at the prow and stern, with forecastles and
cabins for the accommodation of the crew. Peter
rily, that Columbus was born in Genoa, about Martyr, the learned contemporary of Columbus,
the year 1435.  It was fitting that the hemi- says that only one of the three vessels was decked.
sphere of republics should have been dis- The smallness of the vessels was considered an
covered by a republican.  His proper name  advantage by Columbus, in a voyage of discovery,
was Colombo, though he is chiefly known  enabling him to run close to the shores, and toenter
among his contemporaries by the Spanish  shallow rivers and harbours. In his third voyage,
among hisconempraresbyhep           when coasting the gulf of Paria, he complained of
synonyme of Colon.  He was well educated  the size of his ship, being nearly a hundred tons
but passed his youth chiefly at sea, and had  burden. But that such long and perilous expedi.
his full share of the hardships and hazards tious into unknown seas, should be undertaken in
incident to that vocation.  From  the travels vessels without decks, and that they should live
of Marco Polo he seems first to have imbibed  through the violent' tempests by which they were
frequently assailed, remain among the singular
his taste for geographical discovery  and to circumstances of these daring voyages."
have derived his grand idea of reaching the                   f       a
eastern shores of India by sailing straight to   It was on Friday, the 3d of August, 1492,
the west.  The spirit of maritime enterprise that the bold adventurer sailed forth, with the
was chiefly fostbered in that age by the mag- earliest dawn, from  the little port of Palos,
nanimous patronage of Prince Henry of Portu- on his magnificent expedition; and immedigal, and it was to that court, accordingly, that ately began a regular journal, addressed to
Columtbus first offered his services in the year the sovereigns, from  the exordium of which,
1470. We will not withhold from our readers as lately printed by Navarettr, we receive a
the following brief but graphic sketch of his strong impression both of the gravity and
character and appearance at that period:        dignity of his character, and of the importance he attached to his undertaking.  We
"He was at tha' time in the full vigour of subjoin a short specimen.
manhood, and of an engaging presence. Minute
descriptions are given of his person by his son    "Therefore your highnesses, as Catholic ChrisFernando, by Las Casas, and others of his con- tians and princes, lovers and promoters of the holy
temporaries. According to these accounts, he was Christian faith, and enemies of the sect of Matall, well-formed, muscular, and of an elevated and homet, and of all idolatries and heresies, deter.
dignified demeanour. His visage was long, and  mined to send me, Christopher Columbus, to the




IRVING'S COLUMBUS.                                      263
uid prts of India, to see the said princes, and the ing land were such on the following day as ne
people, md lands, and discover the nature and  lornger to admit a doubt. Besides a quantity of
disposition of them all, and the means to be taken fresh weeds, such as grow in rivers, they saw a
for the conversion of them to our holy faith; and green fish of a kind which keeps about rocks; then
ordered that I should not go by land to the East, a branch of thorn, with berries on it, and recently
by which it is the custom go, but by a voyage to separated from the tree, floated by them; then they
the  West, by which course, unto the present time, picked up a reed, a small board, and, above all, a
we do not know for certain that any one hath staff artificially carved. All gloom and mutiny now
passed; and for this purpose bestowed great favours gave way to sanguine expectation; and throughout
upon me, ennobling me, that thenceforward I might the day each one was eagerly on the watch, in
style myself Don, appointing me high admiral of hopes of being the first to discover the long-sought.
the Ocean Sea, and perpetual viceroy and governor for land.
of all thle islands and continents I should discover   " In the evening, when, according to invariable
and gain, and which henceforward may be dis- custom on board of the admiral's ship, the mariners
covered and gained, in the Ocean Sea; and that lhad sung tke salve regina, or vesper hymn to the
my eldest son should succeed me, and so on, from  Virgin,he made an impressive address to his crew.
generation to generation, for ever. I departed, He pointed out the goodness of God in thus contherefore, from the city of Granada on Saturday  ducting them by such soft and favouring breezes
the 12th of May, of the same year, 1492, to Palos, across a tranquil ocean, cheering their hopes cona sea-port, where I armed three ships well calcu-  tinually with fresh signs, increasing as their fears
lated for such service, and sailed from that port augmented, and thus eading and guiding them to a
well furnished with provisions, and with many promised land.
seamen, on Friday the 3d of August of the same   " The breeze had been fresh all day, with more
year, half an hour before sunrise, and took the sea than usual, and they had made great progress.
route for the Canary Islands of your highnesses, to At sunset they had stood again to the west, and
steer my course thence, and navigate until I should were ploughing the waves at a rapid rate, the Pinta
arrive at the Indies, and deliver the embassy of keeping the lead, from her superior sailing. The
your highnesses to those princes, and accomplish  greatest animation prevailed throughout the ships;
that which you had commanded. For this purpose, not an eye was closed that night. As the evening
I intend to write during this voyage very punctu- darkened, Columbus took his station on the top of
ally, from day to day, all that I may do, and see, the castle or cabin on the high poop of his vessel.
and experience, as will hereafter be seen. Also, However he might carry a cheerful and confident
my sovereign princes, besides describing each night countenance during the day, it was to him a time of
all that has occurred in the day, and in the day the the most painful anxiety; and now when he was
navigation of the night, I propose to make a chart, wrapped from observation by the shades of night,
in which I will set down the waters and lands of the he maintained an intense and unremitting watch,
Ocean Sea, in their proper situations, under their ranging his eye along the dusky horizon, in search
bearings; and, further to compose a book, and il- of the most vague indications of land. Suddenly,
lustrate the whole in picture by latitude from the about ten o'clock, he thought he beheld a light
equinoctial, and longitude from the West; and upon glinltnering at a distance! Fearing that his eager
the whole it will be essential that I should forget hopes might deceive him, he called to Pedro Gusleep, and attend closely to the navigation, to accorn- tierrez, gentleman of the king's bed-chamber, and
plish these things, which will be a great labour."   inquired whether he saw a light in that direction;
the latter replied in the affirmative. Columbus, yet
As a guide by which to sail, Mr. Irving also  doubtful whether it might not be some delusion of
informs us, he had prepared "a map, or chart, the fancy, called Rodrigo Sanchez of Segovia, and
improved upon that sent him by Paolo Tos- made the same inquiry. By the time the latter had
canelli.  Neither of these now exist; but the  ascended the round-house, the light had disappeared. They saw it once or twice afterwards in
globe, or planisphere, finished  by Martin  sudden and passing gleams; as it were a torch in
Behern  in this year of the admiral's first the bark of a fisherman, rising and sinking with the
vbyage, is still extant, and furnishes an idea waves: or ain the hand of some person on shore,
of what the chart of Columbus must have  borne up and down as he walked from house to
been.  It exhibits the coastsof Europe and  house. So transient and uncertain were these
Arbeen.  It exhibits suthe cof lass  tof  e and  gleams, that few attached any importance to them;
Africa, from  the south of Ireland to the end  Columbus, however, considered them as certain
of Guinea; and opposite to them; on the other signs of land, and moreover, that the land was inside of the Atlantic, the extremity of Asia, habited.
or, as it was termed, India. Between them is   " They continued their course until two in the
placed  the island of Cipango, (or Japan,) morning, when a gunfrom the Pinta gave the joywhich, according to Marco Polo, lay fifteen  ful signal of land. It was first discovered by a.                  which, according to MarcoPotay fi.e. n mariner named Rodrigo de Triana; but the reward
hundred miles distant from the Asiatic coast. was afterwards adjudged to the admiral, for having
In his computations Columbus advanced this previously perceived the light. The land was now
island about a thousand leagues too much to  clearly seen about two leagues distant; whereupon
the east; supposing it to lie in the situation  they took in sail and lay-to, waiting impatiently for
of Florida, and at this island he hoped first to the dawn.
"The thoughts and feelings of Columbus in this
arrive."                                       little space of time must have been tumultuous and
We pass over the known incidents of this intense. At length, in spite of every difficulty and
celebrated voyage, which are here repeated  danger, he had accomplished his object. The great
with new interest and additional detail; but mystery of the ocean was revealed; his theory,
we cannot refrain from extracting Mr. Irving's  which had been the scoff of sages, was triumphantaccount of its fortunate conclusion. The grow- ly established; he had secured to himself a glory
which must be as durable as the world itself.
ing panic and discontenit of his mutinous crew,   " It is difficult even for the imagination to conand their resolution to turn back if land was ceive the feelings of such a man at the moment of
not discovered in three days, are well known. so sublime a discovery. What a bewildering crowd
of conjectures must have thronged upon his mind,
"And when on the evening of the third day they as to the land which lay before him, covered with
beheld the sun go down upop a shoreless horizon, darkness. That it was fruitful was evident, from
they broke forth into clamnorous turbulence. For- the vegetables which floated firom its shores. He
sunately, however, the manifestations of neighbour- thought, too, that he perceived in the balmy air the




264                      HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
fragrance of aromatic groves.  The moving light sensibility to the beauty of the scenery, auid
which he had beheld, had proved that it was the the charmrs of the climate, of this new world;
residence of man. But what were its inhabitants  and on his a
Were they like those of the other parts of the globe;                               aptures are,
or were they some strange and monstrous race,if possible, redoubled.
such as the imagination in those times was prone to    "As he approached this noble island, he was
give to all remote and unknown regions?  Had he struck
struck weith its magnitude, and the grandeur  of Its
come upon some wild island far in the Indian Sea; features; its higntand airy mountains, whirf re
or was this the famed Cipango itself, the object of; its high and aly mountains, whict re.
minded him of those of Sicily; its fertile valleys, and
his golden fancies? A thousand speculations of the  long sweeping plains, watered by noble rivers; its
kind inuttat have swarmed upon him, as, wit I his stately forests; its bold promnontories, and stretch.
anxious crews, lee waited for:he night to pass ing headlands,  hich melted away into the remotest
away: woivdering whethe.:or duarning light would  sitance.  Ads rnchorod in a beautiful river, free
reveal a savage wiiernss, or dawn upon spcy   I fr":-. rock~ or s.oals, of transparent water, its banks
groves, and glittering fanes, ad   ed:tes. Here, landing, and ta
foverc,~rg v,,'n trees. Here, landing, and taking
all the splendour of oriental civilization.      posse.n  o the island, he gave itthe namef
possesson of the island, he gave it the name of
The land to which he was thus triumph- Juana, in honour of Prince Juan, and to the river
antly borne was the island of San Salvador  the name of San Salvador.
7   " Returning to his boat, he proceeded for some
since called Cat Island, by the English; and  distance up the river, more and more enchanted
at early dawn he landed with a great com- with the beauty of the country. The forests which
pany, splendidly armed and attired, and bear- covered each bank were of high and wide-spreading
min  in his hand the royal standard of Castile.  trees; some bearing fruits, others flowers, while in
some both fruits and flowers were mingled, be"As they approached the shores, they were re- speaking a perpetual round of fertility: among them
freshed by the sight of the ample forests, which in  were many palms, but differing from those of Spain
those climes have extraordinary beauty and vegeta- and Africa; *with the great leaves of these the nation. They beheld fruits of tempting hue, but un- tives thatched iheir cabins.
known kind, growing  among the trees which    "The continual eulogies made by Columbus on
overhung the shores. The purity and suavity of the beauty of the scenery were warranted by the
the atmosphere, the crystal transparency of the seas kind of scenery he was beholding. There is a
which bathe these islands, give them a wonderful wonderful splendoir, variety, and luxuriance in the
beauty, and must have had their effect upon the vegetation ofthose'q:ick and ardent climates. The
susceptible feelings of Columbus.  No sooner did verdure of ths gr,,ves, and the colours of the flowers
he land, than he threw  himself upon his knees, and blosnoms, denive a vividness to the eye from the
kissed the earth, and returned thanks to God with  transparer.t pvty of the air, and the deep serenity
tears of joy. His example was followed by the of the azure heavens.  The forests, too, are full of
rest, whose hearts indeed overflowed with the same  life, swarming with birds of brilliant plumage.
feelings of gratitude."                          Painted varieties of parrots, and wood-peckers,
" The natives of the island, when, at the dawn  create a glitter amidst the verdure of the grove; and
of day, they had beheld the ships, with their sails humming-birds rove from flower to flower, resemset, hovering on their coast, had supposed them  bling, as has well been said, animated particles of a
some monsters which had issued from the deep dur- rainbow. The scarlet flamingos, too, seen someing the night. They had crowded to the beach, titmes through an opening of a forest in a distant
and watched their movements with awful anxiety. savannah, have the appearance of soldiers drawn up
Their veering about, apparently without effort; the in battalion, with an advanced scout on the alert, to
shifting and furling of their sails, resembling huge give notice of approaching danger. Nor is the least
wings, filled them with astonishment.  When they  beautiful part of animated nature the various tribes
beheld their boats approach the shore, and a num- of insects that people every plant, displaying brilber of strange beings, clad in glittering steel, or liant coats of' mail, which sparkle to the eye like
raiment of various colours, landing upon the beach, precious gems.
they fled in affright to their woods. Finding, how-    " From his continual remarks on the beauty of
ever, that there was no attempt to pursue nor the scenery, and from the pleasure which he evimolest them, they gradually recovered from  their dently derived from  rural sounds and objects, he
terror, and approached the Spaniards with great appears to have been extremely open to those deliawe; frequently prostrating  themselves on the cious influences, exercised over some spirits by the
earth, and making signs of adoration. During the graces and wonders of nature. He gives utterance
ceremonies of taking possession, they remained  to these feelings with characteristic enthusiasm, and
gazing in timid admiration at the complexion, the  at the same lime with the artlessness and simplicity
beards, the shining armour, and splendid dress of of diction of a child. When speaking of some lovely
the Spaniards. The admiral particularly attracted  scene among the groves, or along the flowery shore,
their attention, from his commanding height, his of this favoured island, he says,'one could live
air of authority, his dress of scarlet, and the defer- there for ever.'-Cuba broke upon him like an ely.
ence which was paid him by his companions; all slum.'It is the most beautiful island,' he says,
which pointed him out to be the commander. When' that eyes ever beheld, full of excellent ports and
they had still further recovered from  their fears, profound rivers.' The climate was more temperate
they approached the Spaniards, touched their beards, here than in the other islands, the nights being
and examined their hands and faces, admiring their neither hot nor cold, while the birds and grasshopwhiteness.  Columbus, pleased with  their sim-  pers sang all night long. Indeed there is a beauty
plicity, their gentleness, and the confidence they  in a tropical night. in the depth of the dark-blue
reposed in beings who must have appeared to them  sky, the lambient purity of the stars, and the reso strange and formidable, suffered their scrutiny  splendent clearness of the moon, that spreads over
with perfect acquiescence. The wondering savages the rich landscape and the balmy groves a charm
were won by this benignity; they now supposed  more touching than the splendour ofthe day.:that the ships had sailed out of the crystal firma-    "In the sweet smell of the woods, and the odour
rment which bounded their horizon, or that they had  of the flowers, which loaded every breeze, Colum-,descended from above on their ample wings, and  bus fancied he perceived the fragrance of oriental
that these marvellous beings were inhabitants of the spices; and along the shores he found shells of the
skies."                                          kind of oyster which produces pearls. Fronm the
grass growing to the very edge of the water, he inNothing is more remarkable in the journal ferred the peacefulness of the ocean which bathes.Pf the great discoverer, than his extraordinary  these islands, never lashing the shore with angry




IRVING'S COLUMBUS.                                      265
surges. E ver since his arrival among these An-   "It was about the middle of April that Columbus
tilles, he had experienced nothing but soft and  arrived at Barcelona, where every preparation had
gentle weather, and he concluded that a perpetual been made to give him a solemn and magnificent
serenity reigned over these happy seas. He was reception. The beauty and serenity of the weather
little suspicious of the occasional bursts of fury to in that genial season and favoured climate, contribwhich they are liable."                         uted to give splendour to this memorable cere.
Hispaniola was still more enchanting mony. As he drew near the place, many of the
Hispaniola was still more enchanting.         more youthful courtiers, and hidalgos of gallant
"rn the transparent atmosphere' of the tropics, bearing, together with a vast concourse of the popuobjects are descried at a great distance, and the lace, came forth to meet and welcome him. His
purity of the air and serenity of the deep blue sky  entrance into this noble city has been compared to
gave a magical effect to the scenery. Under these one of those triumphs which the Romans were acadvantages, the beautiful island of Hayti revealed  customed to decree to conquerors.  First, were
itself to the eye as they approached. Its mountains paraded the Indians, painted according to their savwere higher and more rocky than those of the other age fashion, and decorated with their national ornaislands; but the rocks reared themselves from  ments of gold. After these were borne various
among rich forests. The mountains swept down  kinds of live parrots, together with stuffed birds and
into luxuriant plains and green savarnahs; while animals of unknown species, and rare plants, supthe appearance of cultivated fields, with the numer- posed to be of precious qualities; while gieat care
ous fires at night, and the columns of smoke which  was taken to make a conspicuous display cf Indian
rose in various parts by day, all showed it to be  coronets, bracelets, arid other decorations of gold,
populous. It rose before them in all the splendour which might give an idea of the wealt~h of the newlyof tropical vegetation, one of the most beautiful discovered regions. After this, followed Columbus
islands in the world, and doomed to be one of the on horseback, surrounded by a brilliant cavalcade
most unfortunate."                              of Spanish chivalry. The streets were almost mpassable from the countless multitude; the winThe first interview with the friendly cacique  dows and balconies were crowded with the fair; the
Guacanagari, as well as his generous atten- very roofs were covered with spectators. It seemed
tions on the wreck of one of their vessels; are  as if the public eye could not be sated with gazing
described with great beauty.  But we can  on these trophies of an unknown world; or on the
only find room for the concluding part of it.  remarkable man by whom it had been discovered.
There was a sublimity in this event that mingled a
"The extreme kindness of the cacique, the gen-  solemn feeling with the public joy. It was looked
tleness of his people, the quantities of gold which  upon as a vast and signal dispensation of Proviwere daily brought to be exchanged for the veriest dence, in reward for the piety of the monarchs: and
trifles, and the information continually received of the majestic and venerable appearance of the dis
sources of wealth in the bosom of this beautiful coverer, so different from the youth and buoyancy
island, all contributed to console the admiral for the  that are generally expected from roving enterprise,
misfortune he had suffered.                     seemed in harmony with the grandeur and dignity
" The shipwrecked crew also, living on shore, of his achievement.
and mingling freely with the natives, became fas-   "To receive him with suitable pomp and dis.
cinated with their easy and idle mode of life. Ex- tinction, the sovereigns had ordered their throne to
empted by their simplicity from  the painful cares be placed in public, under a rich canopy of brocade
and toils which civilized man inflicts upon himself of gold, in a vast and splendid saloon. Here the
by his many artificial wants, the existence of these  king and queen awaited his arrival, seated in state,
islanders seemed to the Spaniards like a pleasant with the prince Juan beside them, and attended by
dream. They disquieted themselves about nothing. the dignitaries of their court, and the principal noA few fields, cultivated almost withoutlabour, fur- bility of Castile, Valentia, Catalonia, and Arragon,
nished the roots and vegetables which formed a all impatient to behold the man who had conferred
great part of their diet. Their rivers and coasts so incalculable a benefit upon the nation.  At length
abounded with fish; their trees were laden with  Columbus entered the hall, surrounded by a brilfruits of golden or blushing hue, and heightened  liant crowd of cavaliers, atmong whom, says Las
by a tropical sun to delicious flavour and fragrance. Casas, he was conspicuous for his stately and comSoftened by the indulgence of nature, a great part manding person, which, with his countenance,
of their day was passed in indolent repose-in that rendered venerable by his grey hairs, gave him the
luxury of sensation inspired by a serene sky and a august appearance of a senator of Rome; a modest
voluptuous climate; and in the evenings they danced  smile lighted up his features, showing that he enin their fragrant groves, to their national songs, or joyed the state and glory in which he came; and
the rude sounds of their sylvan drums.          certainly nothing could be more deeply moving to
" Such was the indolent and holiday life of these a mind inflamed by noble ambition, and conscious
simple people; which, if it had not the great scope of having greatly deserved, mnan these testimonials
of enjoyment, nor the high-seasoned poignancy of of the admiration and gratitude of a nation, or rather
pleasure, which attend civilization, was certainly  of a world. As Columbus approached, the soverdestitute of most of its artificial miseries."  eigns rose, as if receiving a person of' the highest
rank.  Bending his knees, he requested to kiss
It was from this scene of enchantment and  their hands; but there was some hesitation on the
promise, unclouded as yet by any shadow of  part of their majesties to permit this act of vassalanimosity or distrust, that Columbus, without age. Raising him in the most gracious manner,
one drop of blood on his hands or one stain of they ordered him to seat himselfln their presence;
cruelty or oppression on his conscience, set a rare honour in this proud and punctilious court."
sail on his return to Europe, with the proud    In his second voyage he falls in again with
tidings of his discovery.  In the early part of the Caribs, of whose courage and cannibal
his voyage he fell in with the Carribee Islands, propensities he had now sufficient assurance.
and had some striking encounters with the  Mr. Irving's remarks upon this energetic but
brave  but ferocious tribes who possessed  untameable race are striking, and we think
them.  The distresses which beset him on his original.
home passage are well known; but we willingly pass these over, to treat our readers with    " The warlike and unyielding charaeter of these
people, so different from that of the pdsillanimous
Mr'. Irving's splendid description of his mag- nations around tlhem, and the wide scope of their
nificent reception by the court at Barcelona.  enterprises and wanderings, like those of the




260                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
Nonlade tribes of the Old World, entitle them to dis- magnificent forests presented that mingled beauty
tinguished attention.  Tney were trained to war and majesty of vegetable forms known only to these
from their infancy. As soon as they could walk, generous climates.  Palms of prodigious height,
their intrepid mothers put in their hands the bow  and spreading mahogany trees, towered from amid
and arrow, and prepared them to take an early part a wilderness of variegated foliage. Universal freshill the hardy enterprises of their fathers. Their ness and verdure were maintained by nurnerouls
distant roamings by sea made them observant and  streams, which meandered gleaming through the
intelligent.  The natives of the other isltands only deep bosom of the woodland; while various villages
knew how to divide time by day and night, by the and hamlets, peeping from among the trees, and
sun and moon; whereas these had acquired some the smoke of others rising out of the midst of the
knowledge of the stars, by which to calculate the forests, gave signs of a numerous population. The
times and seasons.                             luxuriant landscape extended as far as the eye could
"The traditional accounts of their origin, though  reach, until it appeared to melt away and mingle
of course extremely vague, are yet capable of being  with the horizon. The Spaniards gazed with rap.
verified to a great degree bygeographical facts, and ture upon this soft voluptuous country, which
open one of the rich veins of curious inquiry and  seemed to realise their ideas of a terrestial paradise;
speculation which abound in the New World. They  and Columbus, struck with its vast extent, gave it
are said to have migrated from the remote valleys the name of the Vega Real, or Royal Plain.
embosomed in the Apalachian mountains. The    "Having descended the rugged pass, the army
earliest accounts we have of them represent them  issued upon the plain, in military array, with great
with their weapons in their hands, continually en- clangour of warlike instruments. When the Ingaged in wars, winning their way and shifting their dians beheld this shining band of warriors, glitterabode, until, in the course of time, they found them- ing in steel, emerging from  the mountains with
selves at the extremity of Florida. Here, abandon- prancing steeds and flaunting banners, and heard,
ing the northern continent, they passed over to the for the first time, their rocks and forests echoing to
Lucayos, and from thence gradually, in the pro- the din of drum and trumpet, they might well have
cess of years, from island to island of that vast and  taken such a wonderful pageant for a supernatural
verdant chain, which links, as it were, the end of vision.
Florida to the coast of Paria, on the southern con-   " On the next-morning they resumed their march
tinent. The Archipelago, extending from  Porto  up a narrow and steep glen, winding among craggy
Rico to Tobago, was their strong hold, and the rocks, where they were obliged to lead the horses.
island of Guadaloupe in a manner their citadel. Arrived at the summit, they once more enjoyed a
Hence they made their expeditions, and spread the prospect of the delicious Vega, which here presented
terror of their name through all the surrounding  a still grander appearance, stretching far and wide
countries. Swarmsofthem landeduponthesouth-  on either hand, like a vast verdant lake. This
emrn continent, and overran some parts of Terra  noble plain, according to Las Casas, is eighty
Firma. Traces of them have been discovered far leagues in length, and from  twenty to thirty in
in the interior of the country through which flows breadth, and of incomparable beauty."
the Oroonoko. The Dutch found colonies of them    " The natives appeared to them a singularly idle
on the banks of the Ikouteka, which empties into and improvident race, indifferent to most of the obthe Surinam, along the Esquibi, the Maroni, and jects of human anxiety and toil. They were imother rivers of Guayana, and in the country watered  patient of all kinds of labour, scarcely giving
by the windings of the Cayenne; and it would ap- themselves the trouble to cultivate the yuca root,
pear that they have extended their wanderings to the maize, and the potatoe, which formed the main
the shores of the southern ocean, where, among the articles of subsistence. -For the rest, their streams
aboriginals of Brazil, were some who called them- abounded with fish; they caught the utia or coney,
selves Caribs, distinguished from the Surrounding  the guana, and various birds; and they had a per.
Indians by their superior hardihood, subtlety, and petual banquet from the fruits spontaneously pro.
enterprise.                                     duced by their groves. Though the air was some.
"To  trace the footsteps of this roving tribe times cold among the mountains, yet they preferred
throughout its wide migrations from the Apalachian  submitting to a little temporary suffering, rather
mountains of the northern continent, along the than take the trouble to weave garments from the
clusters of islands which stud the Gulf of Mexico gossampine cotton which abounded in their forests.
and the Caribbean sea to the shores of Paria, and'Thus they loitered away existence in vacant inacso across the vast regions of Guayana and Amazonia tivity, under the shade of their trees, or amusin
to the remote coast of Brazil, would be one of the themselves occasionally with various games ani
most curious researches in aboriginal history, and dances."
might throw much light upon the mysterious ques-   "Having accomplished the purposes of his resition of the population of the New World."       dence in the Vega, Columbus, at the end of a few
days, took leave of its hospitable inhabitants, and
We pass over the melancholy story of the resumed his march for the harbour, returning with
ruined fort, and murdered garrison, to which  his little army through the lofty and rugged gorge
our adventurer returned on his second voyage; of the mountains called the Pass of the Hidalgos.
and of the first dissensions that broke out in  As we accompany him  in imagination over the
his now increasing colony; but must pause  rocky height, from whence the Vega first broke
for a moment to accompany him  on his first upon the eye of the Europeans, we cannot help
for a moment to accompany him  on his first pausing to cast back a look of mingled pity and admarch, at the head of four hundred armed  miration over this beautiful but devoted region
followers, into the interior of the country, and  The dream of natural liberty, of ignorant content,
to the mountain region of expected gold. For and loitering idleness, was as yet unbroken, but tho
two days the party proceeded up the banks fiat had gone forth; the white man had penetrated
of a stream) which seemed at last to lose itself into the land; avarice, and pride, and ambition, and
of a stream which seemed at last to lose itself r.pining care, and sordid labour, were soon to follow,
in a narrow and rocky recess.                   and the indolent paradise of the Indian to disappear
"On the following day, the army toiled up this for ever!"
steep defile, and arrived where the gorge of the    There is something to us inexpressibly
mountain opened into the interior. Here a land of pleasing in these passages; but we are aware
promise suddenly burst upon their view. It was that there are readers to whom  they may
the same glorious prospect which had delighted Oje-     dious-and b                         th
da and his companions. Below lay a vast and de- seem tedious —and believe at all events, that
licious plain, painted and enamelled, as it were, we have now given a large enough specimen
wits all the rich variety of tropical vegetation. The of the kind of beauty they present.  For per




IRVING'S COLUMBUS.                                     261
sons of a different taste we ought to have ex- in their fields beneath the fervour tof a tropical iln,
tracted some account of the incredible darings,  to raise food fobr their task-masters, or to produce
and romantic adventures, of Alonzo de Ojeda; the vegetable tribute imposed upon them.'They
sunk to sleep weary and exhausted at night, with
or of the ruder prowess and wild magnanimity  the certainty that the next day was but to be a
of the cacique Caonabo, who alone of the  repetition of the same toil and suffering. Or if they
island chieftains dared to offer any resistance  occasionally indulged in their national dances, the
to the invaders.  When made prisoner, and  ballads to which they kept time were of a melan.
carried off from the centre of his dominions, choly and plaintive character. They spoke of the
rby oe of the unimaginable feats of Ojeda, times that were past before the white men had inW~.by one ofihas reported thate uiaialfettroduced sorrow and slavery, and weary labour
Mlr. Irv'lg has reported that                  among them; and they rehearsed pretended prophe"He always maintained a haughty deportment cies, handed down from their ancestors, foretelling
towards Columbus, while he never evinced the the invasion of the Spaniards; that strangers should
least animosity against Ojeda for the artifice towhich come into their island, clothed in apparel, with
he had fallen a victim. It rather increased his ad- swords capable of cleaving a man asunder at a
miration of him, as a consummate warrior, looking  blow, under whose yoke their posterity should be
upon it as the exploit of a master-spirit to have subdued. These ballads, or areytos, they sang
pounced upon him, and borne him off, in this hawk- with mournful tunes and doleful voices, bewailing
like manner, from the very midst of his fighting- the loss of their liberty and their painful servitude."
men. There is nothing that an Indian more admires    There is an interest of another kind in fol
in warfare, than a deep, well-executed stratagem.  lowing the daring route of aolbus along
"Columbus was accustomed to bear himself lowing the daring route of Columbus along
with an air of dignity and authority as admiral and the shores of Cuba and Jamaica. and through
viceroy, and exacted great personal respect. When  the turbulent seas that boil among the keys in
he entered the apartment therefore where Caonabo  the gulf of Paria. The shores still afforded the
was confined, all present rose, according to custom, same beauty of aspect-the people the same
and paid him reverence. The cacique alone neither marks of submission and delighted wonder.
moved, nor took any notice of him. On the con-.
trary, when Ojeda entered, though small in person    "It is impossible to resist noticing the striking
and without external state, Caonabo immediately  contrasts which are sometimes forced upon the
rose and saluted him with profound respect. On  mind. The coast here described as so populous and
being asked the reason of this, Columbus being animated, rejoicing in the visit of the discoverers, is
Guamiquina, or great chief over all, and Ojeda but the same that extends westward of the city of
one of his subjects, the proud Carib replied, that Trinidad, along the gulf of Xagua. All is now
the admiral had never dared to come personally to silent and deserted. Civilization, which has covered
his house and seize him, it was only through the some parts of Cuba with glittering cities, has renvalour of Oje.da he was his prisoner; to Ojeda, dered this a solitude. The whole race of Indians
therefore, he owed reverence,.not the admiral."    has long since passed away, pining and perishing
The insolent licence of the Spaniards, and  beneath the domination of the strangers whom they
The insolent licence of the  aniards  and  welcomed so joyfully to their shores. Before me
tne laborious searches for gold which they  lies the account of a night recently passed on this
imposed on the natives, had at last overcome  very coast, by a celebrated traveller, (Humboldt,)
their original feelings of veneration; and, but with what different feelings from those of' Cotrusting to their vast superiority in numbers, lumbus!' I passed,' says he,' a great part of the
they ventured their vast sup eriority in numbersaven- night upon the deck. What deserted coasts! not a
they ventured to make war on their heaven- light to announce the cabin of a fisherman. From
descended visitants. The result was unre- Batabano to Trinidad, a distance of fifty leagues,
sisted carnage and hopeless submission! A  there does not exist a village. Yet in the time of
tax of a certain quantity of gold dust was im- Columbus this land was inhabited even along the
posed on all the districts that afforded that margin of the sea. When pits are digged in the
substance, and of certain quantities of cotton  soil, or the torrents plough open the surface of the
earth, there are often found hatchets of stone and
and of grain on all the others-and various vessels of copper, relics of the nancient inhabitants
fortres:ses were erected, and garrisons station- of the island.'"
eel to assist the collection of the tribute.
We cannot resist the temptation of adding'In this way," says Mr. Irving, " was the yoke the following full-length picture; which has
of iervitud* fixed upon the island, and its thraldom all the splendour of a romance, with the adeffectually ensured. Deep despair now fell upon  ditional charm of being true.
the natives, when they found a perpetual task inflicted upon them, enforced at stated and frequently    " One morning, as the ships were standing along
recurring periods. Weak and indolent by nature, the coast, with a light wind and easy sail, they beunused to labour of any kind, and brought up in the held three canoes issuing from among the islands
untasked idleness of their soft climate and their of the bay. They approached in regular order;
fruitful groves, death itself seemed preferable to a one, which was very large and handsomely carved
life of toil and anxiety. They saw no end to this and painted, was in the centre, a little in advance
harassing evil, which had so suddenly fallen upon  of the two others, which appeared to attend and
them; no escape from its all-pervading influence; guard it. In this were seated the cacique and his
no prospect of return to that roving independence family, consisting of his wife, two daughters, two
and ample leisure, so dear to the wild inhabitants sons, and five brothers. One of the daughters was
of the forests. The pleasant life of the island was eighteen years of age, beautiful in form and counteat an end; the dream in the shade.by day; the nance; her sister was somewhat younger; both
slumber during the sultry noon-tide heat by the were naked, according to the custom  of these
fountain or the stream, or under the spreading islands, but were of modest demeanour. In the
palm-tree; and the song, the dance, and the game prow of the canoe stood the standard-bearer of the
in the mellow evening, when summoned to their cacique, clad in a kind of mantle of variegated
simple amusements by the rude Indian drum. They feathers, with a tuft of gay plumes on his head, and
were now obliged to grope day by day, with bend- bearing in his hand a fluttering white banner. Two
ing body and anxious eye, along the borders of Indians, with caps or helmets of feathers of uniform
their rivers, sifting the sands for the grains of gold shape and colour, and their faces painted in a simi
which every day grew more scanty; or to labour lar manner, beat upon tabors; two others, M ith




Z68                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
hats curiously wrought of' green feathers, held  with the most profound respect, and offered
trumpets of a fine black wood, ingeniously carved; instantly to release him from his fetters.
and there were six others, in large hats and white
feathers, who appeared to be guests to the cacique.   "But to this he would not consent.' No,' said
This gallant little armada having arrived alongside he proudly,'their majesties commanded me by
of the admiral's ship, the cacique entered on board  letter to submit to whatever Bodadilla should order
with all his train.  He appeared in his full regalia. in their name; by their authority he has put upon
Around his head was a band of small stones of me these chains-I will wear them until they shall
various colours, but principally green, symmetri- order them to be taken off, and I will preserve them
cally arranged, with large white stones at intervals, afterwards as relics and memorials of the reward
and connected in front by a large jewel of gold. of my services.'
Two plates of gold were suspended to his ears by    "'He did so,' adds his son Fernando;'I saw
rings of small green stones. To a necklace of white them  always hanging in his cabinet, and he re.
beads, of a kind deemed precious by them, was quested that when he died they might be buried
suspended a large plate, in the form of a fleur-de- with him!'"
lys, of guanin, an inferior species of gold; and a
girdle of variegated stones, similar to those round
his head, completed his regal decorations. His brutality which stirs the blood with intense
wife was adorned in a similar manner, having also indignation, there is something soothing and
a very smallll apron of cotton, and bands of the same still more touching in the instant retribution.
round her arms and legs. The daughters were
without ornaments, excepting the eldest and hand:   " The arrival," says Mr. Irving, " of Colunlbus
somest, who had a girdle of small stones, from  at Cadiz, a prisoner and in chains, produced almost
which was suspended a tablet, the size of an ivy as great a sensation as his triumphant return from
leaf, composed of various-coloured stones, em- his first voyage. It was one of those striking and
broided-on net-work of cotton.                 obvious facts, which speak to the feelings of the
" When the cacique entered on board the ship, multitude, and preclude the necessity of reflection.
he distributed presents of the productions of his No one stopped to inquire into the case. It was
island among the officers and men. The admiral sufficient to be told that Columbus was brought
was at this time in his cabin, engaged in his morn- home in irons from the world he had discovered!
ing devotions. When he appeared on deck, the  A general burst of indignation arose in Cadiz, and
chieftain hastened to meet him with an animated in the powerful and opulent Seville, which was imcountenance.'My friend,' said he,'I have de- mediately echoed throughout all Spain."
tersnined to leave my country, and to accompany    "Ferdinand joined with his generous queen in
thee. I have heard from these Indians who are with her reprobation of the treatment of the admiral, and
thee, of the irresistible power of thy sovereigns, both sovereigns hastened to give evidence to the
and of the many nations thou hast subdued in thieir world that his imprisonment had been without their
authority, and contrary to their wishes. Without
name. Whoever refuses obedience to thee is sure authority, and contrary to their wishes. Without
to suffer. Thou hast destroyed the canoes and waiting to receive any documents that might arrive
dwellings of the Caribs, slaying their warriors, and  from Bobadilla, they sent orders to Cadiz that the
carrying into captivity their wives and childref. prisoners should be istantly set at liberty, and
All the islands are in dread of thee; for who can  treated with all distinction. They wrote a letter to
withstand thee now, that thou knowest the secrets Columbus couched in terms of gratitude and affecof the land, and the weakness of the people? tion, expressing their grief at all he had suffered,
Rather, therefore, than thou shouldst take away  and inviting him to cousrt.  They ordered, at the
my dominions, I will embark with all my house- same time, that two thousand ducats should be adhold in thy ships, and will go to do homage to thy  vanced to defray his expenses.
kling and queen, and to behold their marvellousty  The loyal heart of Columbus was again cheered
contry, of which the Iandians relate such wonders.' by this declaration of his sovereigns. He felt conWhen this speech was explained to Columbus, and  scious of his integrity, and anticipated an immediate
he beheld the wife, the sons and daughters of the restitution of all his rights and dignities. He apcacique, and thought upon the snares to which  peared at court in Granada on the 17th of Decemtheir ignorance and simplicity would be exposed  ber, not as a man ruined and disgraced, but richly
he was touched with compassion, and determined  d       and attended by an honourable retinue.
not to take them from their native land. He replied  He was receved by their majesties with unqualified
to the cacique, therefore, that he received him  favour and distinction.  When the queen beheld
under his protection as a vassal of his sovereigns; this venerable man approach, and thought on all he
but having many lands yet to visit before he re- had deserved and all that he had suffered, she was
turned to his country, he would at some future  moved to tears. Columbus had borne up firmly
time fulfil his desire. Then, taking leave with  gainst the stern conflicts of the world-he had
many expressions of amity, the cacique, with his endured with lofty scorn the injuries and insults of
wife anddaughters, and all his retinue,re-embarked  ignoble men, but he possessed strong and quick
in the canoes, returnina reluctantly to their island, sensibility. When he found himself thus kindly
and the ships continued on their course."      received by his sovereigns, and beheld tears in the
benign eyes of Isabella, his long-suppressed feelBut we must turn from  these bright le- ings burst forth; he threw himself upon his knees,
gends; and hurry onward to the end of our and for some time could not utter a word for the
extracts.  It is impossible to give any abstract violence of his tears and sobbings!"
of the rapid succession of plots, tumults, and    In the year 1502, and in the sixty-sixth
desertions, which blighted the infancy of this year of his age, the indefatigable discoverer
great settlement; or of the disgraceful calum- set out on his'fourth and last voyage. In this
nies, jealousies, and intrigues, which gradu- he reached the coast of Honduras; and fell
ally undermined the credit of Columbus with  in with a race somewhat more advanced in
his sovereign, and ended at last in the mission  civilization than any he had yet encountered
of Bobadilla, with power to supersede him in in these remote regions.  They had mantles
command-and in the incredible catastrophe  of woven cotton and some small utensils of
of his being sent home in chains by this arro- native copper.  He then ran down the shore
gant and precipitate adventurer!  When he  of Veragua, and came through tremendous
arrived on board the caravel which was to  tempests to Portobello, in search, it appears,
parry him  to Spain, the master treated him  of a strait or inlet, by which he had per.




IRVING'S COLUMBUS.                                     26a
anded himself he should find a ready way  asperation of them might be fatal to the Spaniards
to the shores of the Ganges:  The extreme  in their present forlorn situation.  A  firebrand
severity of the season, and the miserable con- thrown into their wooden fortress might wrap it in
dseverit  of thi shpsXn, acm ld thim  howevere co flames, and leave them defenceless amidst hostile
dition of his ships, compelled him, however, thousands."'
to abandon this great enterprise; the account   "The envy," says Mr. Irving, " which had once
of which Mr. Irving winds up with the fol- sickened at the g16ry and prosperity of Columbus,
lowing quaint and not very felicitous observa- could scarcely have devised for him a more forlorn
tionr: " If he was disappointed in his expec- heritage in the world he had discovered; the tenant
tation of finding a strait through the Isthmus of a wreck on a savage coast, in an untraversed
tationof Dariendin wa braca througr e herst hm  s ocean, at the mercy of barbarous hordes, who, in a
of Darien, it was because nature herself had  moment, from precarious friends, might be trans
been disappointed-for she appears to have  formed into ferocious enemies; afflicted, too, by
attempted to make one, but to have attempted  excruciating maladies which confined him to his
it in rain."                                   bed, and by the pains and infirmities which hardAfter this ne returned to the coast of Vera- ship and anxiety had heaped upon his advancing
gua, 1wtere ae landed, and formed a tempo- age. But Columbus had not yet exhausted his citp
Xgua were  e landed, and for med a tempo- of bitterness. He had yet to experience an evil
rary settlement, with a view of searching for worse than storm, or shipwreck, or bodily anguish,
certain gold mines which he had been told  or the violence of savage hordes, in the perfidy of
were in the neighbourhood.  This, however, those in whom he confided."
was but the source of new  disasters.  The    The account of his sufferings during the
natives, who were of a fierce and warlike  twelve long months he was allowed to remain
character, attacked and betrayed him-and  in this miserable condition, is full of the deep.
his vessels were prevented from  getting to est interest. and the strangest variety of adsea, by the formation of a formidable bar at venture.  But we can now only refer to it.the mouth of the river.                        Two of his brave and devoted adherents unAt last, by prodigious exertions, and the  dertook to cross to Hispaniola in a slender
heroic spirit of some of his officers, he was Indian canoe, and after incredible miseries, at
enabled to get away. But his altered fortune length accomplished this desperate understill prwsued him.  He was harassed by per- taking-but from the cold-hearted indecision,
petual storms, and after having beat up nearly  or paltry  jealousy, of the  new  Govmrnor
to Hispaniola, was assailed by                 Ovando, it was not till the late period we have
mentioned, that a vessel was at length des" A sudden tempest, of such violence, that, ac- patched that a vessel i         llustrious  sufferer.
cording to the strong expression of Columbus, it patched to the relief of the illustrious sufferer.
seemed as if the world would dissolve. They lost   But lie was not the only, or even the most
three of their anchors almost immediately, and the memorable sufferer.  From  the time he was
caravel Bermuda was driven with such violence superseded in command, the niisery and opupon the ship of the admiral, that the bow of the pression of the natives of Hispaniola had inone, and the stern of the other, were greatly shat- creased beyond all proportion or belief.  By
tered. The sea running high, and the wind being the miserable policy of the new  governorf
boisterous, the vessels chafed and injured each other
dreadfully, and it was with great difficulty that they  their services were allotted to the Spanish
were separated. One anchor only remained to the settlers, who compelled them  to work by the
admiral's ship, and this saved him from being driven cruel infliction of the scourge; and, withupon the rocks; but at daylight the cable was found holding from them the nourishment necessary
nearly worn asunder. Had the darkness continued   r health ex
an hour longer, he could scarcely have escaped             exacted a degree of labour which
shipwreck.                                     could not have been sustained by the most
" At the end of six days, the weather having vigorous men.
moderated, he resumed his course, standing eastward for Hispaniola:' his people,' as he says,' dis-  If they fled from this incessant toil and barba.
waryedfor Hisp aniola:rted'his  almost all his anchors rous coercion, and took refuge in the mountains,
lost, and his vessels bored as full of    s    they were hunted out like wild beasts, scourged in
the most inhuman manner, and laden with chains
to prevent a second escape. Many perished long
His proud career seemed now to be hasten- before their term  of labour had expired. Those
ing to a miserable end.  Incapable of strulg- who survived their term  of six or eight months,
gling longer with the elements, he was obliged  were permitted to return to their homes, until the
next term  commenced.  But their homes were
to run b fore the wind to Jamaica, where he  often forty, sixty, and eighty leagues distaftt. They
was mno; even in a condition to attempt to  had nothing to sustain them through the journey
mak3 any harbour.                              but a few roots or agi peppers, or a little cassava.
bread. Worn down by long toil and cruel hard.
"His ships, reduced to mere wrecks, could no ships, which their feeble constitutions were incapalonger keep the sea, and were ready to sink even ble of sustaining, many had not strength to perform
in port. He ordered them, therefore, to be run  the journey, but sunk down and died by the way;
aground, within a bow-shot of the shore, and fast- some by the side of a brook, others under the shade
ened together, side by side. They soon filled with of a tree, where they had crawled for shelter from
water to the decks. Thatched cabins were then  the sun.'I have fbund many dead in the road,'
erected at the prow and stern for the accommoda- says Las Casas,'others gasping under the trees,
tlion of the crews, and the wreck was placed in the and others in the pangs of death, faintly crying,
best possible state of defence. Thus castled in the Hunger; hunger!'  Those who reached their
sea, Columbus trusted to be able to repel any sud- homes most commonly found them desolate. Duden attack of the natives, and at the same time to ring the eight months that they had been absent
keep his men from roving about the neighbourhood their wives and children had either perished or
and indulging in their usual excesses. No one was wandered away; the fields on which they depended
allowed to go on shore without especial licence, and for food were overrun with weeds, and nothing was
the utmost precaution was taken to prevent any left them but to lie down, exhausted  nd despairing,
offence from being given to the Indians. Any ex- and die at the threshold of their haaltions.




270                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
It is impossible to pursue any farther the picture   "Sometimes," says Mr. Irving,  tney would
drawn by the venerable Las Casas, not of what he hunt down a straggling Indian, and compel him, by
had heard, but of what he had seen-nature and torments, to betray the hiding-place of his comhumanity revolt at the details.  Suffice it to say panions, binding him and driving him before then
that, so intolerable were the toils and sufferings in- as a guide. Wherever they discovered one of
flicted upon this weak and unoffending race, that these places of refuge, filled with the aged and the
they sunk under them, dissolving as it were from  infirm, with feeble women and helpless children,
-he face of the earth. Many killed themselves in they massacred  them  without mercy!  They
despair, and even mothers overcame the powerful wished to inspire terror throughout the land, and to
instinct of nature, and destroyed the infants at their frighten the whole tribe into submission. They cut
breasts, to spare them  a life of wretchedness. off the hands of those whom they took roving at
Twelve years had not elapsed since the discovery  large, and sent them, as they said, to deliver them
of the island, and several hundred thousands of its as letters to their friends, demanding their surrender.
native inhabitants had perished, miserable victims Numberless were those, says Las Casas, whose
to the grasping avarice of the white men."     hands were amputated in this manner, and many
These pictures are sufficiently shocking;- of them sunk down and died by the way, through
t   anguish and loss of. blood.
but they do not exhaust the horrors that cover   "he conquerors delighted in exercising strange
the brief history of this ill-fated people. The and ingenious cruelties. They mingled horrible
province or district of Xaragua, which was levity with their bloodthirstiness.  They erected
ruled over by a princess, called Anacaona, gibbets long and low, so that the feet of the sufcelebrated in all the contemporary accounts ferers might reach the ground, and their death be
for the grace and dignity of her manners, and  lingering.'They hanged thirteen together, in reveher confiding atta enit to her stangers, and rence, says the indignant Las Casas, of our blessed
her confiding attachment to the strangers, had  Saviour and the twelve apostles! While their
hitherto enjoyed a happy exemption from the  victims were suspended, and still living, they hack.
troubles which distracted the other parts of ed them with their swords, to prove the strength
the island, and when visited about ten years of their arm and the edge of their weapons. They
before by the brother of Columbus, had im- wrapped them in dry straw, and setting fire to it,
pressed all the Spaniards with the idea of an  terminated their existence by the fiercest agony.
pressed all the Spaniards "ith  the idea of an    "These are horrible details; yet a veil is drawn
earthly paradise: both from  the fertility and over others still more detestable. They are related
sweetness of the country, the gentleness of by the venerable Las Casas, who was an eye-wit,.ess
its people, and the beauty and grace of the of the scenes he describes. He was young at the
women.  Upon some rumours that the neigh- time, but records them in his advanced years.'All
touring caciques were assembling for hostile these things,' says he,' and others revolting to
purposes Ovando no  marched into this de- human nature, my own eyes beheld! and now I
purposes: Ovando noew marched into this de- almost fear to repeat them, scarce believing myself,
voted region with a well-appointed force of or whether 1 have not dreamt them.'
near four hundred men.  He was hospitably    " The system of Columbus may have borne hard
and joyfully received by the princess: and  upon the Indians, born and brought up in untasked
affected to encourage and join in the festivity  freedom; but it was never cruel nor sanguinary..fich his presenc e  had      excited. He was even  He inflicted no wanton massacres nor vindictive
wch his presence had excited. He was even punishments; his desire was to cherish and civilise
himself engaged in a sportful game with his the Indians, and to render them'useful subjects, not
officers, when the signal for massacre was to oppress, and persecute, and destroy them. When
given-and the place was instantly covered  he beheld the desolation that had swept them from
with blood!  Eighty of the caciques were the land during his suspension from authority, he
burnt over slow fires i and thousands of the could not restrain the strong expression of his feel.
unarmed and unresisting people butchered  ings. In a letter written.to the king after his return
*     to Spain, he thus expresses himself on the subject:
without regard to sex or age.  "Humanity,"'The Indians of Hispaniola were and are the riches
Mr. Irving very justly observes, " turns with  of the island; for it is they who cultivate and make
horror from  such atrocities, and would fain  the bread and the provisions for the Christians, who
discredit them: But they are circumstantially  dig the gold from the mines, and perform all the
and  still more  minutely recorded bc s   the offices and labours both of men and beasts. I am
a mr  the.informed that, since I left this island, (that is, in less
venerable Las Casas-who was resident in the than three years,) six parts out of seven of the natives
island at the time, and conversant with the are dead, all through ill treatment and inhumanity!
principal actors in the tragedy."             some by the sword, others by blows and cruel
Still worse enormities signalised the final usage, and others through hunger. The greater
subjugation of the province of Higuey-the  part have perished in the mountains and glens,
last scene of any attempt to resist the tyran- whither they had fled, from not being able to sup>las se   o   n   tept  ei  t          nport the labour  mposed uponr the am.' 
nical power of the invaders. It would be port the labour imposed upon them.'
idle to detail here the progress of that savage    The story now draws to a close. Columbus
and most unequal warfare: but it is right that returned to Spain, broken down with age
the butcheries perpetrated  by the victors and affliction-and after two years spent in
should not be forgotten-that men may see unavailing solicitations at the court of the
to what incredible excesses civilised beings cold-blooded and ungrateffl Ferdinand (his
may be tempted by the possession of absolute generous patroness, Isabella, having died imand unquestioned power —and may learn. mediately on his return), terminated with
from  indisputable memorials, how  far the characteristic magnanimity a life of singulai
abuse of delegated and provincial authority energy, splendour, and endurance. Indepen
may -be actually carried.  If it be true, as dent of his actual achievements, he was un
Homer has alleged, that the day which makes doubtedly a great and remarkable man; and
a man a slave, takes away half his worth-it Mr. Irving has summed up his general charseems to be still more infallibly and fatally acter in a very eloquent and judicious way.
rue, that Ie master generally suffers a yet   "His ambition," he observes, "was lofty and
larger prigtion.                              noble. He was full of high thoughts, and anxious




1.RVING'S  COLUMBUS.                                  271,o distinguish himself by great achievements. It of glory would have broke upon his mind could he
has been said that a mercenary feeling mingled have known that he had indeed discovered a new
with his views, and that his stipulations with the continent, equal to the whole of the old world in magSpanish Court were selfish and avaricious. The nitude, and separated by two vast oceans from all the
charge is inconsiderate and unjust. He aimed at earth hitherto known by civilised man! And how
dignity and wealth in the same lofty spirit in which would his magnanimous spirit have been consoled,
he sought renown; and the gains that promised to amidst the afflictions of age and the cares of penury,
arise from his discoveries, he intended to appropriate the neglect of a fickle public, and the injustice of an
in the same princely and pious spirit in which they ungrateful king, could he have anticipated the
were demanded. He contemplated works and splendid empires which were to spread over the
achievements of benevolence and religion: vast con- beautiful world he had discovered; and the nations,
tributions for the relief of the poor of his native and tongues, and languages which were to fill its
city; the foundation of churches, where masses lands with his renown, and to revere and bless his
should be said for the souls of the departed; and name to the latest poste-ity!"
armies for the recovery of the holy sepulchre    The appendix to Mr. Irving's work which
Palestine.                                      The appendi x t o Mr. Irving's wo rkf  which
Palestine.
" In his testament, he enjoined on his son Diego, occupies the greater part of the last volrne,
and whoever after him should inherit his esmtes, contains most of the original matter which
whatever dignities and titles might afterwards be his learning and research have enabled him
granted by the king, always to sign himself simply to bring to bear on the principal subject, and'the Admiral,' by way of perpetuating in the family constitutes indeed a miscellany of a singularly
its real source of greatness."
" He was devoutly pious; religion mingled with curious and interesting description.  It conthe whole course of his thoughts and actions, and sists, besides very copious and elaborate acshines forth in all his most private and unstudied counts of the family and descendants of Cowritings. Whenever he made any great discovery, lumbus, principally of extracts and critiques
he celebrated it by solemn thanks to God. The of the discoveries of earlier or contemporary
voice of prayer and melody of praise rose from his navigators-the voyages of the Carthaginians
ships when he first beheld the New World, arid  aginians
sis first action on landing was to prostrate himself and the Scandinavians,-of Behem; the Pin.
upon the earth. and return thanksgivings. Every zons, Amerigo Vespucci, and others-with
evening, the Salve Regina, and other vesper hymns, some very curious remarks on the travels of
were chanted by his crew, and masses were per- Marco Polo, and Mandeville-a dissertation
formed in the beautiful groves that bordered the on the ships used by Columbus and his conwild shores of this heathen land.  The religi   temp sra  seon  the Atalantis of Plato-th
thus deeply seated in the soul, diffused a sober di-  emporaries-on the Atalants     of Platothe
nity and benign composure over his whole demean- imaginary island of St. Brandan, and of the
our.  His language was pure and guarded, free Seven Cities-together with remarks on the
from all imprecations, oaths, and other irreverent writings of Peter Martyr, Oviedo, Herrera,
expressions. But his piety was darkened by the Las Casas, and the other contemporary chroni.
bigotry of the age. He evidently concurred in the clers of those great discoveries.. The whole
opinion that all the nations who did not acknowledge clers of those   t hink, with singular judgment,
the Christian faith were destitute of natural rights; drawn up we think, with singular judgment,
that the sternest measures might be used for their diligeIce, and candour; and presenting the
conversion, and the severest punishments inflicted reader, in the most manageable form, with
upon their obstinacy in unbelief.  In this spirit almost all the collateral information which
of bigotry he considered himselfjustified in making could be brought to elucidate the transactions
captives of the Indians, and transporting them to to which they relate.
Spain to have them taught the doctrines of Chris-   Such is the general character of Mr. Irving
tianity, and in selling them  for slaves if they    Such is thegeneralcharacterofMr.Irvng'
pretended to resist his invasions. He was counte- book-and such are parts of its contents. We
nanced in these views, no doubt, by the general do not pretend to give any view whatever of
opinion of the age. But it is not the intention of the substance of four large historical volumes;
the author to justify Columbus on a point where it and fear that the specimens we have ventured
is inexcusable to err. Let it remain a blot on his to exhibit of the author's  a  of writing are
iilustrious name,-and let others derive a lesson not very well calculated to do justice either
from it."                                     not very well calculated to   justice either
to the occasional force, or the constant variety,
He was a man, too, undoubtedly, as all of his style.  But for.judicious readers they
truly great men have been, of an imaginative will probably suffice-and, we trust, will be
and sensitive temperament-something, as found not only to warrant the praise we have
Mr; Irving has well remarked, even of a vis- felt ourselves called on to bestow, but to in.
ionary-but a visionary of a high and lofty duce many to gratify themselves by the  erorder, controlling his ardent imagination by a sal of the work at large.
powerful judgment and great-practical sa-   Mr. Irving, we believe, was not in E: gland
vacity, and deriving not only a noble delight when his work was printed: and we must say
but signal accessions of knowledge from this he has been very insufficiently represented
rigonr and activity of his fancy.            by the corrector of the press. We do not' Yet, with all this fervour of imagination," as recollect ever to have seen so handsome a
Mr. Irving has strikingly observed, "its fondest book with so many gross typographical errors.
dreams fell short of the reality. He died in igno- In many places they obscure the sense-and
rance of the real grandeur of his discovery.  Until are very frequently painful and offensive.
his last breath he entertained the idea that he'had It will be absolutely necessary that this be
merely opened a new way to the old resorts of opu- looked to in a new impression; and the au-".ent commerce, and had discovered some of the thor would do well to avail himself of the
wild regions of the east. He supposed Hispaniola
to be the ancient Ophir which had been visited by same opportunity, to correct some verbal inthe ships of Solomon, and that Cuba and Terra accuracies, and to polish and improve some
Firma were but remote parts of Asia. What visions passages of slovenly writing.




272                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
(3 nue,  1827.)
Memoirs of ZEHIR-ED-DIN MUHAMMED BABER, Emperor of Hindustan, written by himself, in
the Jaghatai Turki, and translated, partly by the late JOHN LEYDEN, ESQ. M.D., partly by
WILLIAM ERSKINE, ESQ. With Notes and a Geographical and Historical Introduction: together with a Map of the Countries between the Oxus and Jaxartes, and a Memoir regarding
its Construction, by CHARLES WADDINGTON, ESQ.,. of the East India Company's Engineers.
London: 1826.
THIS is a very curious, and admirably edited Tartars to the Celestial Empire of China. It
work. But the strongest impression which will not do to say, that we want something
the perusal of it has left on our minds is the nobler in character, and more exalted in inboundlessness of authentic history; and, if tellect, than is to be met with among those
we might venture to say it, the uselessness murderous Orientals-that there is nothing to
of all history which does not relate to our own interest in the contentions of mere force and
fraternity of nations, or even bear, in some violence; and that it requires no very fineway or other, on our own present or future drawn reasoning to explain why we should
condition.                               turn with disgust from the story, if it had
We have here a distinct and faithful account been preserved, of the savage affrays which
of some hundreds of battles, sieges, and great have drenched the sands of Africa or the rocks
military expeditions, and a character of a pro- of New Zealand-through long generations of
digious camber of eminent individuals, —men murder-with the blood of their brutish popufamous in their day, over wide regions, for lation. This may be true enough of Madagenius or fortune-poets, conquerors, martyrs gascar or Dahomy; but it does not apply to
-founders of cities and dynasties-authors the case before us. The nationsof Asia geneof immortal works-ravagers of vast districts rally-at least those composing its great states
abounding in wealth and population. Of all -were undoubtedly more polished than those
these great personages and events, nobody in of Europe, during all the period that preceded
Europe, if we except a score or two of studi- their recent connection. Their warriors were
ous Orientalists, has ever heard before; and as brave in the field, their statesmen more
it would not, we imagine, be very easy to subtle and politic in the cabinet: In the arts
show that we are any better for hearing of of luxury, and all the elegancies of civil life,
them now. A few curious traits, that hap- they were immeasurably superior; in inge.
pen to be strikingly in contrast with our own nuity of speculation-in literature-in social
manners and habits, may remain on the politeness-the comparison is still in their
memory of a reflecting reader-with a gene- favour.
ral confused recollection of the dark and gor-  It has often occurred to us, indeed, to congeous phantasmagoria. But no one, we may  sider what the effect would have been on the
fairly say, will think it worth while to digest fate and fortunes of the world, if, in the fouror develope the details of the history; or be teenth, or fifteenth century, when the germs
at the pains to become acquainted with the of their present civilisation were first disclosed,
leading individuals, and fix in his memory the the nations of Europe had been introduced to
series and connection of events. Yet the ef- an intimate and friendly acquaintance with
fusion of human blood was as copious-the the great polished communities of the East,
display of talent and courage as imposing-  and had been thus led to take them for their
the perversion of high moral qualities, and the masters in intellectual cultivation, and their
waste of the means of- enjoyment as unspar- models in all the higher pursuits of genius,
ing, as in other long-past battles and intrigues polity, and art. The difference in our social
and. revolutions, over the details of which we and moral condition, it would not perhaps be
still pore with the most unwearied atten- easy to estimate: But one result, we conceive,
tion; and to verify the dates or minute cir- would unquestionably have been, to make us
cumstances of which, is still regarded as a take the same deep interest in their ancient
great exploit in historical research, and among story, which we now feel, for similar reasons,
the noblest employments of human learning in that of the sterner barbarians of early Rome,
and sagacity.                            or the more imaginative clans and colonies
It is not perhaps very easy to account for of immortal Greece. The experiment, howthe eagerness with which we still follow the ever, though there seemed oftener than once
fortunes of Miltiades, Alexander, or Caesar-  to be some openings for it, was not made.
of the Bruce and the Black Prince, and the Our crusading ancestors were too rude theminterest which yet belongs to the fields of selves to estimate or to feel the value of the
Marathon and Pharsalia, of Crecy and Ban- oriental refinement which presented itself to
nockburn, compared with the indifference, or their passing gaze, and too entirely occupied
rather reluctance, with which we listen to the with war and bigotry, to reflect on its causes
details of Asiatic warfare —the conquests that or effects; and the first naval adventurers who
transferred to the Moguls the vast sovereign- opened up India to our commerce, were both
ties of India, pr raised a dynasty of Manchew  too few and too far off to communicate to




MEMOIRS OF BABER.                                2ll
their brethren at home any taste for the splen- unknown to the earlier ages of the world —
dours which might have excited their own exalted the arts of peace to a dignity with
admiration. By the time that our intercourse which they were never before invested: and,
with those regions was enlarged, our own by the abolition of domestic servitude, for the
career of improvement had been prosperously first time extended to the bulk of the populabegun; and our superiority in the art, or at tion those higher capacities and enjoyments
least the discipline of war, having given us a which were formerly engrossed by a few. By
signal advantage in the conflicts to which the invention of printing, they have made all
that extending intercourse immediately led, knowledge, not only accessible, but imperishnaturally increased the aversion and disdain able: and by their improvements in the art
with which almost all races of men are apt to of war, have effectually secured themselves
regard strangers to their blood and dissenters against the overwhelming calamity of sarfrom their creed. Since that time the genius barous invasion —the risk of subjugation by
of Europe has been steadily progressive, whilst mere numerical or animal force: Whilst the
that of Asia has been at least stationary, and alternations of conquest and defeat amongst
most probably retrograde; and the descendants civilised communities, who alone can now be
of the feudal and predatory warriors of the formidable to each other, though productive
West have at last attained a decided pre- of great local and temporary evils, may be
dominancy over those of their elder brothers regarded on the whole as one of the means
in the East; to whom, at that period, they of promoting and equalising the general civiliwere unquestionably inferior in elegance and sation. Rome polished and enlightened all
ingenuity, and whose hostilities were then the barbarous nations she subdued-and was
conducted on the same system with our own. herself polished and enlightened by her conThey; in short, have remained nearly where quest of elegant Greece. If the European
they were; while we, beginning with the im- parts of Russia had been subjected to the doprovement of our governments and military minion of France there can be no doubt that
discipline, have gradually outstripped them  the loss of national independence would have
in all the lesser and more ornamental attain- been compensated by rapid advances both in
ments in which they originally excelled.  liberality and refinement; and if, by a still
This extraordinary fact of the stationary or more disastrous, though less improbable condegenerate condition of the two oldest and tingency, the Moscovite hordes were ever to
greatest families of mankind-those of Asia overrun the fair countries to the south-west
and Africa, has always appeared to us a sad of them, it is equally certain that the invaders
obstacle in the way of those who believe in would speedily be softened and informed by
the general progress of the race, and its con- the union; and be infected more certainly
stant advancement towards a state of perfec- than by any other sort of contact, with the
tion. Two or three thousand years ago, those arts and the knowledge of the vanquished.
vast communities were certainly in a happier   All these great advantages. however-this
and more prosperous state than they are now; apparently irrepressible impulse to improveand in many of them we know that their most ment-'this security against backsliding and;
powerful and flourishing societies have been decay, seems peculiar to Europe,* and not,
corrupted and dissolved, not by any accidental capable of being communicated, even by her,
or extrinsic disaster, like foreign conquest, to the most docile races of the other quarters}
pestilence, or elemental devastation, but by of the world: and it is really extremely diffi-.
what appeared to be the natural consequences cult to explain, upon what are called philo —
of that very greatness and refinement which sophical principles, the causes of this superihad marked and rewarded their earlier exer- ority. We should be very glad to ascribe it
tions. In Europe, hitherto, the case has cer- to our greater political Freedom: —and notainly been different: For though darkness doubt, as a secondary cause, this is among tke~,
did fall upon its nations also, after the lights most powerful; as it is to the maintenance of:,
of Roman civilisation were extinguished, it is that freedom that we are indebted for the self-.
to be remembered that they did not burn out estimation, the feeling of honour, the general:~
of themselves, but were trampled down by equity of the laws, and the substantia. se-.
hosts of invading barbarians, and that they curity both from sudden revolution and from
blazed out anew, with increased splendour capricious oppression, which distinguish- our.
and power, when the dulness of that superin- portion of the globe. But W~e cannot bring,
cumbent mass was at length vivified by their ourselves to regard this freedom as a merecontact. and animated by the fermentation accident in our history, that is not itself to be
of that leaven which had all along been se- accounted for, as well as its consequences:
crelly working in its recesses. In Europe And when it is said that our greater- stability.
certainly there has been a progress: And the
more polished of its present inhabitants have  When we speak of Europe, it wilt he under.
not only regained the place which was held stood that we speak, not of the land, but of tahe
of old by their illustrious masters of Greece people-and include, therefore, all the settlements
and Rome, but have plainly outgone them in and colonies of that favoured race, in wnatever
the most substantial and exalted of their im- quarter of the globe they may now be established.
provements. Far more humane and refined Some situations seem more, and some less, favour.
than the Romans-far less giddy and turbulent able to the preservation of the original character.
The Spaniards certainly degenerated in Peru-and!
and treacherous than the Greeks, they have the Dutch perhaps in Batavia;-but the Engliusk
given a security to life and property that was remain, we trust, unimpaired in America.
18




274                  HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
and prosperity is owing to our greater freedom, of its authors-the substantial advantages of
we are immediately tempted to ask, by what honesty and fair dealing over the most inge.
that freedom has itself been produced 1 In nious systems of trickery and fraud;-and
the same way we might ascribe the superior even-though this is the last and hardest as
mildness and humanity of our manners, the well as the most precious, of all the lessons
abated ferocity of our wars, and generally our of reason and experience-that the toleration
respect for human life, to the influence of a even of religious errors is not only prudent
Religion which teaches that all men are equal and merciful in itself. and most becoming a
in the sight of God, and inculcates peace and fallible and erring being, but is the surest
charity as the first of our duties. But, besides and speediest way to compose religious differthe startling contrast between the profligacy, ences, and to extinguish that most formidable
treachery, and cruelty of the Eastern Empire bigotry, and those most pernicious errors,
after its conversion to the true faith, and the which are fed and nourished by persecution.
simple and heroic virtues of the heathen re- It is the want of this knowledge, or rather of
public, it would still occur to inquire, how it the capacity for attaining it, that constitutes
has happened that the nations of European the palpable inferiority of the Eastern racesdescent have alone embraced the sublime and, in spite of their fancy, ingenuity, and
truths, and adopted into their practice the restless activity, condemns them, it wVould
mild precepts, of Christianity, while the peo- appear irretrievably, to vices and sufferings,
ple of the East have uniformly rejected and from which nations in a far ruder condition
disclaimed them, as alien to their character are comparatively free. But we are wanderand habits-in spite of all the efforts of the ing too far from the magnificent Baber and
apostles, fathers, and martyrs, in the primitive his commentators, —and must now leave these
and most effective periods of their preaching? vague and general speculations for the facts
How, in short, it has happened that the sensual and details that lie before us.
and sanguinary creed of Mahomet has super-   Zehir-ed-din Muhammed, surnamed Baber
seded the pure and pacific doctrines of Chris- or the Tiger was one of the descendants o?
tianity in most of those very regions where it Zengiskhan and of Tamerlane; and though
was first revealed to mankind, and first es- inheriting only the small kingdom of Fergtablished by the greatest of existing govern- hana in Bucharia, ultimately extended his
ments? The Christian revelation is no doubt dominions by conquest to Delhi and the
the most precious of all Heaven's gifts to the greater part of Hindostan; and transmitted to
benighted world. But it is plain, that there his famous descendants, Akber and Aurengwas a greater aptitude to embrace and to zebe, the magnificent empire of the Moguls.
profit byit in the European than in the Asiatic He was born in 1482, and died in 1530.
race. A free government, in like manner, is Though passing the greater part of his time
unquestionably the most valuable of all human in desperate military expeditions, he was an
inventions-the great safeguard of all other educated and accomplished man; an elegant
temporal blessings, and the mainspring of all poet; a minute and fastidious critic in all the
intellectual and moral improvement:-But niceties and elegances of diction; a curious
such a government is not the result of a lucky and exact observer of the statistical phenothought or happy casualty; and could only be mena of every region he entered; a great adestablished among men who had previously mirer of beautiful prospects and fine flowers;
learned both to relish the benefits it secures, and, though a devoted Mahometan in his
and to understand the connection between the way, a very resolute and jovial drinker of
means it employs and the ends at which it aims. wine.  Good-humoured, brave, munificent,
We come then, though a little reluctantly, sagacious, and frank in his character, he
to the conclusion, that there is a natural and in- might have been a Henry IV. if his training
herent difference in the character and temper- had been in Europe:-and even as he is, is
ament of the European and the Asiatic races less stained, perhaps, by the Asiatic vices of
-consisting, perhaps, chiefly in a superior cruelty and perfidy than any other in the list
capacity of patient and persevering thought in of her conquerors. The work before us is a
i the former-and displaying itself, for the most faithful translation of his own account of his
part, in a more sober and robust understanding, life and transactions; written, with some con-:and a more reasonable, principled, and inflexi- siderable blanks, up to the year 1508, in the
ble morality. It is this which has led us, at form  of a narrative-and continued afteronce to temper our political institutions with wards, as a journal, till 1529. It is here,prospective checks and suspicious provisions illustrated by the most intelligent, learned,
against abuses, and, in our different orders and least pedantic notes we have ever seen; and degrees, to submit without impatience to aanexed to such a performance; and by two
those checks and restrictions;-to extend our or three introductory dissertations, more clear,
reasonings by repeated observation and ex- masterly, and full of instruction than any it;periment, to larger and larger conclusions- has ever been our lot to peruse on the history,-and thus gradually to discover the paramount or geography of the East. The translation:importance of discipline and unity of purpose was begun by the late very learned and enin war, and of absolute security to person and terprising Dr. Leyden.  It has been com-property in all peaceful pursuits-the folly of pleted, and the whole of the valuable corn-,all passionate and vindictive assertion of sup- mentary added by Mr. W. Erskine, on the., nosed rights and pretensions, and the certain solicitation of the Hon. Mountstewart Elphinrecoil of long-continued injustice on the heads stone and Sir John Malcolm, the two indi



MEMOIRS OF BABER.                                      27b
viduals in tile world best qualifiel to judge    "The whole of Asia may be considered as divi.
of the value or execution of such a work. The  ded into two parts by the great chain of mountains
greater part of the translation was finished  which runs from China and the Birman Empire on
and transmitted to this country in 1817;* but the east, to the Black Sea and the Mediterranean
on the west. From the eastward, where it is of
was only committed to the press in the course  great breadth, it keeps a north-westerly course,
of last year.                                  rising in height as it advances, and forming the hill
The preface contains a learned account of  countries of Assam, Bootan, Nepal, Slrinagar,
the Turki language, (in which these memoirs Tibet, and Ladak. It encloses the valley of Kashwere written,) the prevailing tongue of Cen- mir, near which it seems to have gained its greatest
theprevailin  a  onsueiofCen- height, and thence proceeds westward, passing to
tral Asia, and of which the Constantinopolitan  the north of Peshawer and Kabul, after which it
Turkish is one of the most corrupted dialects, appears to break into a variety of smaller ranges
-some valuable corrections of Sir William  -of hills that proceed in a westerly and south-westJones' notices of the Institutes of Taimfir -   erly direction, generally terminating in the province
and a very clear explanation of the method  of Khorasan. Near Herat, in that province, the
employed in the translation and the various mountains sink away; but the range appears to
rise again near Meshhed, and is by some considhelps by which the great difficulties of the  ered as resuming its course, running to the south
task were relieved.  The first Introduction, of the Caspian and bounding Mazenderan, whence
however, contains much more valuable mat- it proceeds on through Armenia, and thence into
ters: It is devoted to an account of the great Asia Minor, finding its termination in the mounTartar tribes. who, under the denomination  tains ofancient Lycia. This immense range, which
of the Turki, ~the Moghul, and the Mandshur some consider as terminating at Herat, while it di.
vides Bengal, Hindustafn, the Penjab, Afghanistan,
races, may be said to occupy the whole vast Persia, and part of the Turkish territory, from the
extent of Asia, north of Hindostan and part country of the Moghul and Tuirki tribes, which,
of Persia, and westward from  China.  Of with few exceptions, occupy the whole extent of
these, the Mandshurs, who have l ong been  country from the borders of China to the sea of
the sovereigns of China, possess the countries Azof, may also be considered as separating in its
counries whole course, nations of comparative civiltsation,
immediately to the north and east of that fromuncivilised tribes. To the south of this range,
ancient empire-the Turki, the regions imme- if we perhaps except some part of the Afghan terdiately to the north and westward of India  ritory, which, indeed, may rather be held as part
and Persia Proper. stretching round the Cas- of the range itself than as south of it, there is no
pian, and advancing, by-the Constantinopoli- nation which, at some period or other of its history,
tan tribes, considerably to the southeast of  has not been the seat of a powerful empire, and of
Europe.  The Moghuls lie principally be- all thoserous and refinelthye potpultis of lifen, when protween the other two.  These three tribes tected by a government that permits the fancies and
speak, it would appear, totally different lan- energies of the human mind to follow their natural
guages-the name of Tartar or Tatar, by  bias. The degrees of civilisation and of happiness
which they are generally designated in Eu- possessed in these various regions may have been
rope, not being acknowledged by any of them   extremely different; but many of the comforts of
rope, not being acknowledged by any of them2 wealth and abundance, and no small share of the
and appearing to have been appropriated only  higher treasures of cultivated judgment and imagito a small clan of Moghuls.  The Huns, who  nation, must have been enjoyed by nations that
desolated the declining empire under Attila*, could produce the various systems of Indian phiare thought by Mr. Erskine to have been  losophy and science, a drama so polished as the
of the Moghul tace; arn  Zengiskhan, the  Sakontala, a poet like Ferdousi, or a moralist like
Sadi. While to the south of this range we every
mighty conqueror of the thirteenth century, where see flourishing cities, cultivated fields, and
was certainly of that family.  Their princes, all thelforms of a regular government and policy,
however, were afterwards blended, by family  to the north of it, if we except China and the counalliances, with those of the Turki; and sev- tries to the south of the Sirr or Jaxartes, and along
eral of them, reigning exclusively over con- its banks, we find tribes who, down to the present
quered tribes of that descent, came gradually  day, wander over their extensive regions as their
quered tribes of that descent, came gradually forefathers did, little if at all more refined than they
though of proper Moghul ancestry, to reckon  appear to have been at the very dawn of history.
themselves as Turki sovereigns.  Of this de- Their flocks are still their wealth, their camp their
scription was Taimur Beg, ot Tamerlane, city, and the same government exists of separate
whose family, though descended from Zengis, chiefs, who are not much exalted in luxury or
had long been settled in the Turki kingdom  information above the commonest of their subjects
of Samarkand; and from him  the illustrious around them."
Baber, the hero of the work before us, a    These general remarks are followed up by
decided Turki in language, character, and an exact and most luminous geographical
prejudices, was lineally sprung.  The relative  enumeration of all- the branches of this great
condition of these enterprising nations, and  northern family,-accompanied with historitheir more peaceful brethren in the south  cal notices, and very interesting elucidations
cannot be more clearly or accurately described  of various passages both  in ancient and
than in the words of Mr. Erskine:-             modern writers.  The following observations
are of more extensive application:* The learned translator conceives that the supposed name of this famous barbarian was truly only    "The general state of society which prevailed
the denomination of his office. It is known that he in the age of Baber, within the countries that have
succeeded his uncle in the government, though  been described, will be much better understood
there were children of his alive. It is probable, from a perusal of the following Memoirs than from
therefore, that he originally assumed authority in any prefatory observations that could be offered.
the character of their guardian; and the word Ata- It is evident that, in consequence of the protection
lik, in Tartar, signifies guardian, or quasi parens.  which had been afforded to the people of Mawerl.




276                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
paher by their regular governments, a considerable    The Ydsi, or institutions of Chengiz, are
degree of comfort, and perhaps still more of ele- often mentioned.
gance and civility, prevailed in the towns. The
whole age of Baber, however, was one of great   "They seem," says Mr. Erskine, "to have been
confusion. Nothing contributed so much to pro- a collection of the old usages of the Moghul tribes,'duce the constant wars, and eventual devastation  comprehending some rules of state and ceremony,
of the country, which the Memoirs exhibit, as the and some injunctions for the punishment of particwant of sone fixed rule of Succession to the Throne. ular crimes. The punishments were only twoThe ideas of regal descent, according to primogeni- death and the bastinado*; the number of blows exture, were very indistinct, as is the case in all Ori- tending from seven to seven hundred. There is
ental, and, in general, in all purely despotic king- something very Chinese in the whole of the Modoms. When the succession to the crown, like ghul system of punishment, even princes advanced
every thing else, is subject to the will of the prince, in years, and in command of large armies, being
on his death it necessarily becomes the subject of punished by bastinado with a stick, by their father's
contention;-since the will of a dead king is of orders.t Whether they received their usage in this
much less consequence than the intrigues of an  respect from  the Chinese, or communicated it to
able minister, or the sword of a successfill corn- them, is not very certain. As the whole body of
mander. It is the privilege of liberty and of law  their laws or customs was formed before the introalone to bestow equal security on the rights of the duction of the Mussulman religion, and was probamonarch and of the people.  The death of the bly in many respects inconsistent with the Koran,
ablest sovereign was only the signal for a general as, for instance, in allowing the use of the blood of
war. The different parties at court, or in the harem  animals, and in the extent of toleration granted to
of the prince, espoused the cause of different com- other religions, it gradually fell into decay."
petitors, and every neighbouring potentate believed    The present Moghul tribes, it is added,
himself to be perfectly justified in marching to seize
his portion of the spoil. In the course of the Me- punish most offences by fines of cattle. The
moirs, we shall find that the grandees of the court, art of war in the days of Baber had not been
while they take their place by the side of the candi- very greatly matured; and though matchlocks
date of their choice, do not appear to believe that and unwieldy cannon had been recently infidelity to him is any very necessary virtue. The troduced from  the West, the arms chiefly
nibility, unable to predict the events of one twelve-   on were still the bow and the spear,
month, degenerate into a set of selfish, calculating,  r e      he b
though perhaps brave partizans. Rank, and wealth, the sabre and the battle-axe.  Mining was
and present enjoyment, become their idols. The practised in sieges, and cavalry seems to have
prince feels the influence of the general want of formed the least considerable part of the
stability, and is himself educated in the loose princi- army.
pies of an adventurer. In all about him he sees   There is a second Introduction, containing
merely the instruments of his power. The subject, a clear andbrief abstract of the history of
Seeing the prince consult only his pleasures, learns
on his part to consult only his private convenience. those regions from the time of Tamerlane to
In such societies, the steadiness of principle that that of Baber,-together with an excellent
flows from the love of right and of our country  Memoir on the annexed map, and an account
can have no place. It may be questioned whether of the hills and rivers of Bokara, of which it
the prevalence of the Mahommedan religion, by  would be idle to attempt any abstract.
swallowing up civil in religious distinctions, has not   As to the Memoirs themselves we have
a tendency to increase this indifference to country, already said to  theink it in vain to rewherever it is established."                   already said that we think it in vain to re" That the fashions of the East are unchanged, commend them  as a portion of History with
is, in general, certainly true; because the climate which our readers should be acquainted,and the despotism, from the one or other of which or consequently to aim  at presenting them
a very large proportion of them arises, have con- with any thing in the nature of an abstract,:inued the same. Yet one who observes the way with any thing m  the nature of an abstract,
tinued the same. Yet one who observes the wa or connected account of the events they so
in which a Mussulman of rank spends his da3, willed account of the events they so
be led to suspect that the maxim has sometimes minutely detail.  All that we propose to do
been adopted with too little limitation. Take the therefore, is, to extract a few  of the traits
example of his pipe and his coffee. The Kallifin, which appear to us the most striking and
or Hukka, is seldom out of his hand; while the characteristic  and to endeavour, in a very
c6ffee-cup makes its appearance every hour, as if short                 an 
li contained a necessary of life. Perhaps there are
hto enjoyments the loss of which he would feel curiosity or interest the work possesses. The
ttmore severely; or which, were we to judge only most remarkable thing about it, or at least
by the frequency of the call for them, we should  that which first strikes us, is the simplicity
stqppose to have entered from a more remote pe- of the style, and the good sense, varied knowriod into the system of Asiatic life. Yet we know  ledge and extraordinary industry of the royal
that the one (which has indeed become a necessary author. It is difficult indeed, t believe throyal
of life to every class of Mussulmans) could not have
been enjoyed before the discovery of America; it is the work of an Asiatic, and a sovereign.
and there is every reason to believe that the other Though copiously, and rather diffusely writwas not introduced into Arabia from Africa, where  ten it is perfectly free from the ornamental
coffee  is indigenous, previously to the sixteenth verbosity   the eternal metaphor, and puerile
eoffee is, indienohatumarksthecircumstancemore  veruosity the eteral metaphor, and puerile
century;* and what marks the circumstance more exaggerations of most Oriental compositions;
strongly, both of these habits have forced their
way, in spite of the remonstrances of the rigorists and though savouring so far of royalty as to
hn religion. Perhaps it would have been fortunate abound in descriptions of dresses and cerefor Baber had they prevailed in his age, as they monies, is yet occupied in the main with conhlight have diverted him from the immoderate use cerns greatly too rational and humble to be
first cf wine, and afterwards of deleterious drugs, much in favour with monarchs.  As a speciend."
swnd.~fr'uined  his constitution, nd hastened o men of the adventurous life of the chieftains
* D'Herbelot, Biblioth. Orient. art. Turk.
* La Roque, Traite Historique de i'Origine et du   t Hist. de Timur Bec, vol. iii. pp. 227.263. 326:
Progres du Caf6, &c. Paris, 1716, lSmo.        &c.




MEMOIRS OF BABER.                                        271
of those days, and of Babers manner of de- provision within the fort. I looked for aid and as.
scribing it, we may pass at once to his account sistance from the princes my neighbours; but each
of his being besieged in Sarnarkand, and the  of them had his attention fixed on some other obarticulars  of his bflight after he kas obliged eject. For example, Sultan Huissain Mirza was unparticulars of his flight after he was obliged  doubtedly a brave and experienced monarch, yet
to abandon it: —                               neither did he give me assistance, nor even send
"During the continuance of the siege, the rounds an ambassador to encourage me."
of the rampart were regularly gone, once every    He is obliged in consequence, to evacuate
night, sometimes by Kasim Beg, and sometimes by
other Begs and captains. From the Firozeh gate the city, and moves off privately in the night.
to the Sheikh.Zadeh gate, we were able to go along  The following account of his flight, we think,
the ramparts on horseback; everywhere else we is extremely picturesque and interesting.
were obliged to go on foot. Setting out in the
beginning of the night, it was morning before we    " Having entangled ourselves among the great
had completed our rounds.                       branches of the canals of the Soghd, during the
" One day Sheibani Khan made an attack be- darkness of the night, we lost our way, and after
tween the Iron gate and that of the Sheikh-Zadeh. encountering many difficulties we passe dKhwajeh
As I was with the reverse, I immediately led them  Didar about dawn. By the time of early morning
to the quarter that was attacked, without attending  prayers, we arrived at the hillock of Karbogh, and
to the Washing-green gate or the Needlemakers' passing it on the north below the village of Kherdek,
gate. That same day, from the top of the Sheikh- we made for Ilan-fit. On the road, I had a race
Zideh's gateway, I struck a palish white coloured  with Kamber Ali and Kasim Beg. My horse got
horse an excellent shot with my cross-bow: it fell the lead. As I turned round on my seat to see
dead the moment my arrow touched it; but in the how far I had left them behind, my saddle-girth
meanwhile they had made such a vigorous attack, being slack, the saddle turned round, and I came
near the Camel's Neck, that they effected a lodg- to the ground right on my head. Although I imment close under the rampart. Being hotly engaged  mediately sprang up and mounted, yet I did not
in repelling the enemy where I was, I had enter- recover the full possession of my faculties till the
tained no apprehensions of danger on the other side, evening, and the world, and all that occurred at the
where they had prepared and brought with them  time, passed before my eyes and apprehension like
twenty-five or twenty-six scaling-ladders, each of a dream, or a phantasy, and disappeared.  The
them so broad that two and three men could mount time of afternoon prayers was past ere we reached
a-breast. He had placed in ambush, opposite to Ilan-fiti, where we alighted, and having killed a
the city-wall, seven or eight hundred chosen men  horse, cut him up, and dressed slices of his flesh;
with these ladders, between the Ironsmiths' and  we stayed a little timre to rest our horses, then
Needlemakers' gates, while he himself moved to  mounting again, before day-break we alighted at
the other side, and made a false attack. Our atten- the village of Khalileh. From  Khalileh we protion was entirely drawn off to this attack; and the ceeded to Dizak. At that time Taher Dfildai, the
men in ambush no sooner saw the works opposite son of Hafez Muhammed Beg Dfildai, was governor
to them empty of defenders, by the watch having of Dizak. Here we found nice fat flesh, bread of
left them, than they rose from the place where they fine flour well baked, sweet melons, and excellent
had lain in ambush, advanced with extreme speed, grapes in great abundance; thus passing from the
and applied their scaling-ladders all at once between  extreme of famine to plenty, and from an estate of
the two gates that have been mentioned, exactly  danger and calamity to peace and ease.
opposite to Muhammed Mazid Terkhan's house.   " In my whole life, I never enjoyed myself so
The Begs who were on guard had only two or much, nor at any period of it felt so sensibly the
three of their servants and attendants about them. pleasures of peace and plenty. Enjoyment after
Nevertheless Kuch Beg, Muhammed Kfli Kochin, suffering, abundance after want, come with inShah Sifi, and another brave cavalier, boldly assail- creased relish, and afford more exquisite delight. I
ed them, and displayed signal heroism. Some of have four or five times, in the course of my life,
the enemy had already mounted the wall, and  passed in a similar manner from distress to ease,
several others were in the act of scaling it, when  and from a state of suffering to enjoyment: but this
~ the four persons who have been mentioned arrived  was the first time that I had ever been delivered at
on the spot, fell upon them sword in hand, with the once from the injuries of my enemy, and the presgreatest bravery, and dealing out furious blows sure of hunger, and passed to the ease of security,
around them, drove the assailants back over the and the pleasures of plenty. Having rested and
wall, and put them  to flight. Kuch Beg distin- enjoyed ourselves two or three days in Dizak, we
guished himself above all the rest; and this was proceeded on to Uratippa.
an exploit for ever to be cited to his honour. He    " Dekhat is one of the hill-districts of Uratippa.
twice during this siege performed excellent service  It lies on the skirts of a very high mountain, immeby his valour.                                  diately on passing which you come on the country
" It was now the season of the ripening of the  of Masikha. The inhabitants, though Sarts, have
grain, and nobody had brought in any new corn. large flocks of sheep, and herds of mares, like the
As the siege had drawn out to great length, the in- Tfirks.  The sheep belonging to Dekhat may
habitants were reduced to extreme distress, and  amount to forty thousand. We took up our lodgthings came to such a pass, that the poor and meaner ings in the peasants' houses. I lived at the house
sort were forced to feed on dogs' and asses' flesh. of' one of the head men of the place. He was an
Grain for the horses becoming scarce, they were aged man, seventy or eighty years old. His mother
obliged to be fed on the leaves of trees; and it was was still alive, and had attained an extreme old
ascertained from experience, that the leaves of the age, being at this time a hundred and eleven years
mulberry and blackwood answered best. Many  old.  One of this lady's relations had accompanied
used the shavings and raspings of wood, which  the army of'I'aimur Beg, when it invaded Hinthey soaked in water, and gave to their horses. dustan. The circumstances remained fresh in her
For three or four months Sheibani Khan did not memory, and she often told us stories on that subapproach the fortress, but blockaded it at some dis- ject. In the district of Dekhat alone, there still
tance on all sides, changing his ground from time  were of this lady's children, grandchildren, great.
to time.                                        grandchildren, and great-great-grandchildren, to
" The ancients have said, that in order to main- the number of ninety-six persons; and including
tain a fortress, a head, two hands, and two feet are those deceased, the whole amounted to two hunnecessary. The head is a captain, the two hands dred. One of her great-grandchildren was at this
are two friendly forces that must advance from op- time a young man of twenty-five or twenty-six
posite sides: the two feet are water and stores of years of age, with a fine black beard. While I




278                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
remained in Dekhat, I was accustomed to walk on hundred men. Tambol was speaking witn anothel
foot all about the hills in the neighbourhood. I person in the front of the line, and in the act of
generally went out barefoot, and, from this habit saying,' Smite them! Smite them!' but his men
of walking barefoot, I soon found that our feet be- were sideling ill a hesitating way, as if saying,
came so hardened that we did not mind rock or'Shall we flee? Let us flee!' but yet standing
stone in the least. In one of these walks, between  still. At this instant there were left with me only
afternoon and evening prayers, we met a man who three persons: one of' these was Dost Nfasir,
was going with a cow in a narrow road. I asked another Mirza Kfili Gokulthsh, and Ker'imdad Kho.
him the way. He answered, Keep your eye fixed  daidad, the T'urkoman, the third. One arrow,
on the cow; and do not lose sight of her till you  which was then on the notch, I discharged on the
come to the issue of the road, when you will know  helmit of'ambol, and again applied my hand to
your ground. Khwajeh Asedfilla, who was with me, my quiver, and brought out a green-tipped barbed
enjoyed the joke, observing, What would become arrow, which my uncle, the Khan, had given me.
of us wise men, were the cow to lose her way?    Unwilling to throw it away, I returned it to the
"It was wonderfully cold, and the wind of Ha- quiver, and thus lost as much time as would have
derwlsh had here lost none of its violence, and allowed of shooting two arrows. I then placed
blew keen. So excessive was the cold, that in the another arrow on the string, and advanced, while the
course of two or three days we lost two or three other three lagged a little behind me. Two persons
persons from its severity. I required to bathe on  came right on to meet me; one of them was Tambol,
account of my religious purifications; and went who preceded the other. There was a highway
down for that purpose to a rivulet, which was frozen between us. He mounting on one side of it as I
on the banks, but not in the middle, from the ra- mounted on the other, we encountered on it in such
pidity of the current. I plunged myself into the a manner, that my right hand was towards my
water, and dived sixteen times.  The extreme enemy, and Tambol's right hand towards me.
chilliness of the water quite penetrated nie."  Except the mail for his horse, Tambol had all his
" It was now spring, and intelligence was brought armour and accoutrements complete. I had only
that Sheibani Khan was advancing against Uratippa. my sabre and bow and arrows. I drew up to my
As Dekhat was in the low country, I passed by ear, and sent right for him  the arrow  which I
Abbiirden and Amani, and came to the hill country  had in my hand. At that very moment, an arrow
of Masikha. Abburden is a village which lies at of the kind called Sheibah struck me on the right
the foot of Masikha. BeneathAbbfirden is a spring, thigh, and pierced through and through. I had a
and close by the spring is a tomb.  From  this steel cap on my head.'Tambol, rushing on, smote
spring, towards the upland, the country belongs to me such a blow on it with his sword as to stun me;
Masikha, but downwards from the spring it de- though not a thread of the cap was penetrated, yet
pends on Yelghar. On a stone which is on the my head was severely wounded. I had neglected
brink of this spring, on one of its sides, I caused  to clean my sword, so that it was rusty, and I lost
the following verses* to be inscribed:-       time in drawing it. I was alone and single in the
I have heard that the exalted Jemshid          midst of a multitude of enemies. It was no season
Inscribed on a stone beside a fountain,        for standing still; so I turned my bridle round, re.'Many a man like us has rested by this fountain,  ceiving another sabre stroke on the arrows in my
And disappeared in the twinkling of an eye!   quiver. I had gone back seven or eight paces,
Should we conquer the whole world by our manhood  when three foot soldiers came up and joined us.
and strength,                             Tambol now attacked Dost Nasir sword in hand.
Yet could we not carry it with us to the grave.'  They followed us about a bowshot. Argh-JakanIn this hill-country, the practice of cutting verses shah is a large and deep stream, which is not fordand other inscriptions on the rocks is extremely able everywhere; but God directed us right, so
common."                                       that we came exactly upon one of the fords of the
After this he contrives partly to retrieve  river. Immediately on crossing the river, the horse
After this he contrives partly to retrieve  of Dost Nisir fell from weakness. We halted to
his affairs, by uniting himself with a warlike  remount him, and passing among the hillocks that
Khan of his family, and takes the field with  are between Khirabfik and Feraghlineh, and going
a considerable force against Tambol.  The  from one hillock to another, we proceeded by byefollowing account of a night skirmish reminds roads towards Ush."
us-of the chivalrous doings of the heroes of    We shall conclude our warlike extracts
Froissart:-                                    with the following graphic and lively account
" Just before the dawn, while o-"n rnen were still of the author's attack on Akhsi, and his subenjoying themselves in sleep, Kamber Ali Beg  sequent repulse:galloped up, exclaiming,' The enemy are upon us-    " Sheikh Bayezid had just been released, and
rouse up!' Having spoken these words, without was entering the gate, when I met him. I immehalting a moment, he passed on. I had gone to diately drew to the head the arrow which was on
sleep, as was my custom even in times of security, my notch, and discharged it full at him. It only
without taking off my jmra, or frock, and instantly  grazed his neck, but it was a fine shot. The moarose, girt on my sabre and quiver, and mounted  ment he had entered the gate, he turned short to
my horse. My standard-bearer seized the standard, the right, and fled by a narrow street in great perbut without having time to tie on the horse-tail and  tuirbation. I pursued him. Mirza Kuli Gokultash
colours; but, taking the banner-staff in his hand  struck down one foot-soldier with his mace, and
just as it was, leaped on horseback, and we pro- had passed another, when the fellow aimed an arceeded towards the quarter from which the enemy  row at Ibrahim  Beg, who startled him by exclaimwere advancing. When I first mounted there were ing, Hai! Hai! and went forward; after which the
ten or fifteen men with me. By the time I had  man, being about as far off as the porch of a house
advanced a bowshot, we fell in with the enemy's is from the hall, let fly at me an arrow, which struck
skirmishers. At this moment there might be about me under the arm. I had on a Kalmuk mail; two
ten men with me. Riding quick up to them, and plates of it were pierced and broken from the blow.
giving a discharge of our arrows, we came upon After shooting the arrow, he fled, and I discharged
the most advanced of them, attacked and drove an arrow after him. At that very moment a footthem back, and continued to advance, pursuing soldier happened to be flying along the rampart,
them  for the distance of another bowshot, when and my arrow pinned his cap to the wall, where it
we fell in with the main body of the enemy. remained shot through and through, and dangling
Sultan Ahmed Tambol was standing, with about a from the parapet. He took off his turban, which
he twisted round his arm, and ran away. A man
~ From the Boslan of Sadi.-Leyden.       on horseback passed close by me, fleeing up the




MEMOIRS OF BABER.                                       274
marrow lane by which Sheikh Bayezid had escaped. bers of bee-hives, but honey is brought only frort
I struck him such a blow on the temples with the the hill-country on the west. The rawash * of Ka.
point of my sword, that he bent over as if ready to  bul is of excellent quality; its quinces and damask
fall from his horse; but supporting himself on the plums are excellent, as well as its badrengs.t There
wall of the lane, he did not lose his seat, but es- is a species of grape which they call the water-grape,
caped with the utmost hazard. Having dispersed  that is very delicious; its wines are strong anQ iiall the horse and foot that were at the gate, we took  toxicating.  That produced on the skirt of the
possession of it. There was now no reasonable  mountain of Khwajeh Khan-Saaid is celebrated for
chance of success; for they had two or three thou- its potency, though I describe it only from what I
sand well-armed men in the citadel, while I had  have heard:
only a hundred, or two hundred at most, in the
o nly      a hundred, or two hundred at most, in the   "The drinker knows the flavour of the wine; how
outer stone fort: and, besides, Jehanglir Mirza,       should the sober know it?"
about as long before as milk takes to boil, had been
beaten and driven out, and half of my men were    "Kabul is not fertile in grain; a return of four or
with him."                                      five to one is reckoned favourable. The melons too
are not good, but those raised from seed brought
Soon after this there is an unlucky hiatus from Khorasan are tolerable. The climate is exin all the manuscripts of the Memoirs, so that tremely delightful, and in this respect there is no
it is to this day unknown by what means the  such place in the known world. In the nights of
heroic prince escaped from  his treacherous summer you cannot sleep without a postin (or lambassociates only that we find him  the yeacr skin cloak.) Though the snow falls very deep in
associates, only  that we find him, the year the winter, yet the cold is never excessively intense.
after, warring prosperously against a new set Samarkand and''abriz are celebrated for their fine
of enemies.  Of his military exploits and ad- climate, but the winter cold there is extreme beventures, however, we think we have now  yond measure."
given a sufficient specimen.                      " Opposite to the fort of Adinahpfir,$ to the south,
In these we have said he resembles the  on a rising ground, I formed a charbagh (or great
garden), in the year nine hundred and fourteen
paladins of Europe, in her days of chivalric  (1508). It is called Baghe Vafa (the Garden of Fienterprise.  But we doubt greatly whether delity). It overlooks the river, which flows between
any of her knightly adventurers could have  the fort and the palace. In the year in which I
given so exact an account of the qualities and  defeated Behar Khan and conquered Lahore and
productions of the countries they visited as  Dibalpfir, I brought plantains and planted them
the Asiatic Sovereign has here put ot record. here. They grew and thrived. The year before I
~he Asiatic Sovereig~n has here put on record. had also planted the sugar-cane in it, which throve
Of Ki bul, for example, after describing its  remarkably well. I sent some of them to Badakhboundaries, rivers, and mountains; he says-  shan and Bokhara. It is on an elevated site, enjoys
running water, and the climate in the winter season
" This country lies between Hindustan and Kho- is temperate. In the garden there is a small hillock,
rasan. It is an excellent and profitable market for from which a stream of water, sufficient to drive a
commodities. Were the merchants to carry their mill, incessantly flows into the garden below. The
goods as far as Khita or Raim,* they would scarcely  four-fold field-plot of this garden is situated on this
get the same profit on them. Every year, seven, eminenc. On the south-west part of this garden
eight, or ten thousand horses arrive in Kabul. From  is a reservoir of water ten gez square, which is
Hindustan, every year, fifteen or twenty thousand  wholly planted round with orange trees; there are
pieces of cloth are brought by caravans. The com- likewise pomegranates. All around the piece of
modities of Hindustan are slaves, white cloths, water the ground is quite covered with clover. This
sugar-candy, refined and common sugar, drugs, spot is the very eye of the beauty of the garden.
and spices. There are many merchants that are  At the time when the orange becomes yellow, the
not satisfied with getting thirty or forty for ten.  prospect is delightful. Indeed the garden is charmThe productions of Khorasan, Rim, Irak, and ingly laid out. To the south of this garden lies the
Chint, may all be found in Kabul, which is the very  Koh-e-Sefid (the White Mountain) of Nangenhar,
emporium of Hindustan. Its warm  and cold dis- which separates Bengash from Nangenhfr. There
tricts are close by each other. From Kabul you  is no road by which one can pass it on horseback.
may in a single day go to a place where snow never Nine streams descend from this mountain. The
falls, and in the space of two astronomical hours, snow on its summit never diminishes, whence prob.
you may reach a spot where snow lies always, ex- ably comes the name of Koh-e-Sefild  (the White
cept now and then when the summer happens to  Mountain). No snow ever falls in the dales at its
be peculiarly hot. In the districts dependant on foot."
Kabul, there is great abundance.of the fruits both    " The wine of Dereh-Nuir is famous all over
of hot and cold climates, and they are found in its Lamghanat. It is of two kinds, which they term
immediate vicinity.  The fruits of the cold dis- areh-tashi (the stone-saw), and suhan-tashi (the
tricts in Kabul are grapes, pomegranates, apricots, stone-file). The stone-saw is of a yellowish colour;
peaches, pears, apples, quinces, jujubes, damnsons, the stone-file, of a fine red. The stone-saw, howalmonds, and walnuts; all of which are found in ever, is the better wine of the two, though neither
great abundance. I caused the sour-cherry-tree i of theni equals their reputation. Higher up, at the
to be brought here and planted; it produced ex- head of the glens, in this mountain, there are some
cellent fruit, and continues thriving. The fruits it apes to be met with. Apes are found lower down
possesses peculiar to a warm climate are the orange,
citron,[l the amlfk, and sugar-cane, which are
brought from the Lamghanat. I caused the sugar-    * The rawash is described as a root something
cane to be brought, and planted it here. They bring  like beet-root, but much larger-white and red in
the Jelghazekg  from  Nijrow. They have num- colour, with large leaves, that rise little from the
ground. It has a pleasant mixture of sweet and
acid. It may be the rhubarb, raweid.
*Khita is Northern China, and its dependent   t The badreng is a large green fruit, in shape
provinces. Rim is Turkey, particularly the pro- somewhat like a citron. The name is also applied
vinces about Trebizond.                         to a large sort of cucumber.
t Three or four hundred per cent.  -            t The fort of Ad'inahpir is to the south of the
t Chin is all China.           t Alubala.     Kabul river.
11 A berry like the karinda.' The Koh-e-Sefid is a remarkable position ill
~ The jelghizekis the seed of a kind of pine, the the geography of Afghanistan. It is seen from
cones of which are as big as a man's two fists.  Peshawer.




280                       HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
towards Hindustan, but none higher up than this standing water is to be met with. All these cities
hill.  The inihabitants used formerly to keep hogs,*  and countries derive their water from wells or tanks,
but in my time they have renounced the practice."  in which it is collected during the rainy season. In
His account of the productions of his pater-Hindustan, the populousness and decay, or totd.His account of.he,roductions,.  hs..... destruction of' villages, nay of cities, is almost in
nal.kingdom of Ferghana is still more minute  stantaneous.  Large cities that have been inhabited
-telling us even the number of apple-trees  for a series of years, (if; on an alarm, the inhabitants
in a particular district, and making mention  take to flight,) in a single day, or a day and a half,
of an excellent way of drying apricots. with  are so completely abandoned, that you can scarcely
almonds put in instead of the stones; and of  discover a trace or mark of population."
a wood with a fine red bark, of admirable use    The prejudices of the more active and
for making whip-handles and birds' cages! energetic inhabitant of the hill country are
The most remarkable piece of statistics. how- still more visible in the following passage:ever, with which he has furnished us, is in    " Hindustafn is a country that has few pleasures
his account of HindustAn, which he first en- to recommend it.t  The people are not handsome.
tered as a conqueror in 1525.  It here occu- They have no idea of the charms of friendly society,
pies twenty-five closely-printed quarto pages; of' frankly mixing together, or.of familiar intercourse.
and contains, not only an exact account of its  They have no genius, no comprehension of mind,
and contains, not only an exact account of its no politeness of manner, no kindness or fellowboundaries, population, resources. revenues, feeling, no ingenuity or mechanical invention in
and divisions, but a full enumeration of all its planning or executing their handicraft works, no
useful fruits, trees, birds, beasts, and fishes; skill or knowledge in design or architecture; they
with such a minute description of their sev- have no good horses, no good flesh, no grapes or
eral habitudes and peculiarities, as would make  musk-melonst, no good fruits, no ice or cold water,
no contemptible figure in a modern work of  no good food or bread in their bazars, no baths or
no contemptible figure in a modern work of colleges, no candles, no torches, not a candlestick."
natural history —carefully distinguishing the    " The chief excellency of' Hindustan is, that it is
facts which rest on his own observation from  a large country, and has abundance of gold and
those which he gives only on the testimony  silver. The climate during the rains is very pleasant.
of others, and makinig many suggestions as to  On some days it rains ten, fifteen, and even twenty
times.  During the rainy season, inundations come
the means of improving, or transferring them   pourng down all at once, and form rivers, even in
from  one region to another.  From  the de- places where, at other times, there is no water.
tailed botanical and zoological descriptions, While the rains continue on the ground, the air is
we can afford of course to make no extracts. singularly delightful-insomuch, that nothing can
What follows is more general:-                    surpass its soft and agreeable temperature.  Its defect is, that the air is rather moist and damp.
"Hindustan is situated in the first, second, and  During the rainy season, you cannot shoot, even
third climates.  No part of it is in the fourth. It is with the bow of our country, and it becomes quite
a remarkably fine country. It is quite a different useless. Nor is it the bow  alone that becomes
world, compared with our countries.  Its  ills and  useless; the coats of mail, books, clothes, and furrivers, its forests and plains, its animals alnl plants, niture, all feel the bad effects of the moisture.
itq inhabitants and their languages, its winds and  Their houses, too, suffer from  not being substanrains, are all of a different nature. Although the  tially built.  There is pleasant enough weather in
Germsils (or hot districts), in the territory of' Kbul, the winter and summer, as well as in the rainy
bear, in many respects, some resemblance to Hin- season; but then the north wind always blows, and
dustan, while in other particulars they differ, yet there is an excessive quantity of earth and dust fly.
you have no sooner passed the river Sind than the ing about. When the rains are at hand, this wind
country, the trees, the stones, the wandering  blows five or six times with excessive violence, and
tribes,t the manners and customs of the people, are
all entirely those of Hindustfn.  The  northern  artifical canals or water-runs for irrigation, and for
range of hillshas been mentioned. Immediately on  the supply of water to towns and villages.  The
crossing the river Sind, we come upon several same is the case in the valley of Soghd, and the
countries in this range of mountains, connected with  richer parts of Maweralnaher.
Kashmir, such as Pekheli and Shemeng. Most of    * "'IThis is the wulsa or walsa, so well described
them, though now independent of Kashmir, were  by Colonel Wilks in his Historical Sketches, vol. i.
formerly included in its territories.  After leaving  p. 309, note:' On the approach of an hostile army,
Kashmir, these hills contain inniumerable tribes and  the unfortunate inhabitants of India bury under
states, Pergannahs and countries, and extend all the  ground their most cumbrous effects, and each indiway to Bengal and the shores of' the Great Ocean. vidual, man, woman, and child above six years of
About these hills are other tribes of men."       age, (the infant children being carried by their
" The country and towns of Hindustan are ex- mothers,) with a load of grain proportioned to their
tremely ugly.  All its towns and lands have an  strength, issue from their beloved homes, and take
uniform  look; its gardens have no walls; the  the direction of a country (if such can be found)
greater part of it is a level plain.  The banks of' its exempt firom  the miseries of war; sometimes of a
rivers and streams, in consequence of the rushing  strong fortress, but more generally of the most unof the torrents that descend during the rainy season, frequented hills and woods, where they prolong a
are worn deep into the channel, which makes it miserable existence until the departure of the ene-.
enerally difficult and troublesome to cross them. my; and if' this should be protracted beyond the
In many places the plain is covered by a thorny  time for which they have provided food, a large
brush-wood, to such a degree that the people of the portion necessarily dies of hunger.' See the note
Pergannahs, relying on these forests, take shelter itself. The Historical Sketches should be read by
in thiem, and, trusting to their inaccessible situation, every one who desires to have an accurate idea of
often continue in a state of revolt, refusing to pay  the South of India.  It is to be regretted that we
their taxes. In Hindustan, if you except the rivers, do not possess the history of any other part of Inthere is little running water.t  Now and then some  dia, written with the same knowledge or research.'
t Baber's opinions regarding India are nearly the
* This practice Baber viewed with disgust, the hog  same with those of most Europeans of the upper.being an impure animal in the Muhammedan law.  class, even at the present day.
t " The Ils and Ulfises."                         $ Grapes and musk-melons, particularly ti'e at.
4 In Persia there are few rivers, but numbers of ter, are now common all orsr India.




MEMOIRS OF BABER.                                        281
such a quantity of dust flies about that you cannot hill country to the. east of Andejan, and the snow
see one another. They call this an Andhi.*  It fell so deep as to bqty it, so that of the whole only
gets warm during Taurus and Genlili, but. not so  two persons escape'd, he no sooner received in
warm as to become intolerable. The heat cannot formation of the occurrence, than he despatched
be compared to the heats of Balkh and Kandahar. overseers to collect and take charge of all the propIt is not above half so warm as in these places. erty and effects of the people of the caravan; and,
Another convenience of Hindustan is, that the  wherever the heirs were not at hand, though himworkmen of every profession and trade are innu- self in great want, his resources being exhausted,
merable and without end. For any work, or any  he placed the property under sequestration, and preemployment, there is always a set ready, to whom  served it untouched; till, in the course of one or
the same employment and trade have descended  two years, the heirs, coming from Khorasan and
from father to son for ages. In the Zefer-Nameh  Samarkand, in consequence of the intimation which
of MWilla Sherif-ed-din Ali Yezdi, it is mentioned  they received, he delivered back the goods safe
as a surprising fact, that when Taimur Beg was and uninjured into their hands.*  His generosity
building the Sangin (or stone) mosque, there were  was large, and so was his whole soul; he was of an
stone-cutters of Azerbaejan, Fars, Hindustan, and  excellent temper, affable, eloquent, and sweet in
other countries, to the number of two hundred, his conversation, yet brave withal, and manly.
working every day on the mosque. In Agra alone, On two occasions he advanced in front of the
and of stone-cutters belonging to that place only, I troops, and exhibited distinguished prowess; once,
every day employed on my palaces six hundred and  at the gates of Akhsi, and once at the gates of
eighty persons; andinAgra, Sikri, Biana, Dhulpur, Shahrokhia. He was a middling shot with the
Gualiar, and Koel, there were every day employed  bow; he had uncommon force in his fists, and
on my works one thousand four hundred and ninety-  never hit a man whom he did not knock down.
one stone-cutters. In the same way, men of every  From his excessive ambition fbr conquest, he often
trade and occupation are numberless and without exchanged peace for war, and friendship for hostility.
stint in Hindustan.                             In the earlier part of his life he was greatly ad" The countries from Behreh to Behar, which  dicted to drinking bfizeh and talar.t  Latterly,
are now under my dominion, yield a revenue of once or twice in the week, he indulged in a drink.
fifty-two krors,t as will appear from the particular ing party. He was a pleasant companion, and in
and detailed statement.4  Of this amount, Per- the course of conversation used often to cite, with
gannahs to the value of eight or nine krors~ are in great felicity, appropriate verses from the poets. In
the possession of some Rais and Rajas, who from  his latter days he was much addicted to the use of
old times have been submissive, and have received  Maajfin,t while under the influence of which he was
these Pergannahs for the purpose of confirming  subject to a feverish irritability. He was a humane
them in their obedience."                       man.  He played a great deal at backgammon,
These Memoirs contain many hundred char- and sometimes at games of chance with the dice."
acters and portraits of individuals; and it   The following is the memorial of Hussain
would not be fair not to give our readers one Mirza, king of Khorasan, who died in 1506:
or two specimens of the royal author's minute   "He had straight narrow eyes. his body was robust
style of execution on such subjects. We may  and firm; from the waist downwards he was of a
begin with that of Omer-Sheikh Mirza, his slenderer make. Although he was advanced in
grandfather, and immediate predecessor in  years, and had a white beard, he dressed in gay-co.
the throne of Ferghina:-                        loured red and green woollen clothes. He usually
wore a cap of black lamb's skin, or a kilpak. Now
"Omer-Sheikh Mirza was of low stature, had a and then, on festival days, he put on a small turban
short bushy beard, brownish hair, and was very  tied in three folds, broad and showy, and having
corpulent. He used to wear his tunic extremely  placed a plume nodding over it, went in this style to
tight; insomuch, that as he was wont to contract prayvers.
his belly while he tied the strings, when he let him-' On first mounting the throne, he took it into
self out again the strings often burst. He was not his head that he would cause the names of' the
curious in either his food or dress. EIe tied his twelve Imams to be recited in the Khfitbeh. Many
turban in the fashion called Destdr-pech (or plaited  used their endeavours to prevent him. Finally,
turban). At that time, all turbans were worn in however, he directed and arranged every thing acthe char-pech (or four-plait) style.  He wore his cording to the orthodox Sunni faith. From a diswithout folds, and allowed the end to hang down. order in his joints, he was unable to perform  his
During the heats, when out of the Divan, he gene- prayers, nor could he observe the stated fasts. HIe
rally wore the Moghul cap.                      was a lively, pleasant man. His temper was rather
"He read elegantly: his general reading was hasty, and his language took after his temper. In
the Khamsahs,ll the Mesnevis,~ and books of his- many instances he displayed a profound reverence
tory; and he was in particular fond of reading the  for the faith; on one occasion, one of his sons havyShahnameh.*   Though he had a turn for poetry, ing slain a man, he delivered him up to the avengers
he did not cultivate it. He was so strictly just, that of blood to be carried before the judgmen-seat of
when the caravan from Khita+t had once reached the the Kazi. For about six or seven years after he
first ascended the throne, he was very guarded in
* This is still the Hindustani term for a storm, or abstaining from such things as were forbidden by
tempest.
t About a million and a half sterling, or rather country from China to Terfan, and now even west
1,300,0001.                                    to the Ala-tagh Mountains.
t This statement unfortunately has not been    * This anecdote is erroneously related of Baber
preserved.                                      himself by Ferishta and others.-See Dow's Hist.
~ About 225,0001. sterling.                   of Hiindostan, vol. ii. p. 218.
II Several Persian poets wrote Khamsahs, or   t Bizeh is a sort of intoxicating liquor somewhat
poemsi, on five different given subjects. The most resembling beer, made from  millet. Talar I do
celebrated is Nezami.                           not know, but understand it to be a preparation
~f The most celebrated of these Mesnevis is the from the poppy. There is, however, nothing about
mystical poem of Moulavi Jilfileddin Muhammed. bfizeh or talar in the Persian, which only specifies
The Stfis consider it as equal to the Koran.    sherdb, wine or strong drink.
** The Shahndmeh, or Book of Kings, is the fa-   t Any medical mixture is called a rraajfin; but
mous poem  of' the great Persian poet Ferdausi, in common speech the term is chiefly applied to in.
and contains tne romantic history of ancient Persia. toxicating comfits, and esnecially those prepared
tti North China; but often applied to the whole with bang.




Vi82                    HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
the law; afterwards he became addicted to drinking    " As we were guests at Mozeffer Mir:a s house,
wine. During nearly forty ygtrs that he was King  Mozeffer Mirza placed me above himself, and havy.
of Khorasan, not a day passen in which he did not ing filled up a glass of welcome, the cupbearers ia
drink after mid-day prayers; but he never drank  waiting began to supply all who were of the party
wine in the morning. His sons, the whole of the with pure wine, which they quaffed as if it had been
soldiery, and the town's-people, followed his exam- the water of life. The party waxed warm, and the
pie in this respect, and seemed to vie with each spirit mounted up to their heads. They took a fancy
other in debauchery and lasciviousness. He was a to make me drink too, and bring me into the same
brave and valiant man. He often engaged sword  circle with themselves. Although, all that time, I:n hand in fight, nay, frequently distinguished his had never been guilty of drinking wine, and from
prowess hand to hand several times in the course of never having fallen into the practice was ignorant
the same fight. No person of the race of Taimur of'the sensations it produced, yet I had a strong
Beg ever equalled Sultan Hussain Mirza in the use lurking inclination to wander in this desert, and my
of the scymitar. He had a turn for poetry, and com- heart was much disposed to pass the stream. In
posed a Diwan. He wrote in the'Tirki. His poet- my boyhood I had no wish for it, and did not know
ical name was Hussaini. Many of his verses are far its pleasures or pains. When my father at any time
from being bad, but the whole of the Mirza's Diwan asked me to drink wine, I excused myself, anid abis in the same measure. Although a prince of dignity, stained. After my father's death, by the guardian
both as to years and extent of territory, he was as care of Khwijeh Kazi, I remained pure and undefond as a child of keeping butting rams, and of amu- filed. I abstained even from forbidden foods; how
sing himself with flying pigeons and cock-fighting."  then was I likely to indulge in wine? Afterwards
One of the most striking passagMes in the  when, from the force of youthful imagination and
One of the most striking passages in the constitutional impulse, I got a desire for wine, I had
work is the royal author's account of the mag- nobody about my person to invite me to gratify my
nificence of the court and city of Herat, when  wishes; nay, there was not one who even suspected
he visited it in 1506; and especially his im- my secret longing for it. Though I had the appeposing catalogue of the illustrious authors, art- tite, therefore, it was difficult for me, unsolicited as
ists, and men of genius, by whom it was then  I was, to indulge such unlawful desires. It now
came into my head, that as they urged me so much,
adorned,                                       and as, besides, I had come into a refined city like
"The age of Sultan Hussain Mirza was certainly  Hen, in which every means of heightening pleasure
a wonderful age; and Khorasan, particularly the and gaiety was possessed in perfection; in which
city of Heri, abounded with eminent men of unri- all the incentives and apparatus of enjoyment were
valled acquirements, each of whom made it his aim  combined with an invitation to indulgence, if I did
and ambition to carry to the highest perfection the not seize the present moment, I never could expect
art to which he devoted himself. Among these was such another. I therefore resolved to drink wine!
the Moulana Abdal Rahman Jami,* to whom there But it struck me, that as Bad'a-ez-zeman Mirza
was no person of that period who could be compar- was the eldest brother, and as I had declined received, whether in respect to profane or sacred science. ing it from his hand, and in his house, he might now
His poems are well known. The merits of the take offence. I therefore mentioned this difficulty
Mulla are of too exalted a nature to admit of being  which had occurred to me. My excuse was apdescribed by me; but I have been anxious to bring proved of, and I was not pressed any more, at this
the mention of his name, and an allusion to his ex- party, to drink. It was settled, however, that the
cellences, into these humble pages, for a good omen  next time we met at Badia-ez-zemafn Mirza's, I
and a blessing!"                              should drink when pressed by the two Mirzas."
He then proceeds to enumerate the names.of between thirty and forty distinguished per-  B       some providential accident, however
sons; ranking first the sages and theologians, medithe conscientious prince escaped from  this
to the number of eight or nine; next the             ated lapse; and it was not till some
poets, about fifteen; then two or three paint- years after, that he gave way to the longers; and five or six performers and composers cherished and resisted propensity.  Atwhat
of music;-of one of these he gives the fol- particular occasion he first fell into the snare,
lowing instructive anecdote —                  unfortunately is not recorded-as there is a
blank of several years in the Memoirs pre"Another was Hussian Udi (the lutanist), who vious to 1519.  In that year, however, we
played with great taste on the lute, and composed find him a confirmed toper; and nothing, inelegantly. He could play, using only one string of'    can
his lute at a time. He had the fault of giving him-  deed, can be more ludicrous than the accuracy
self many airs when desired to play. On one oc- and apparent truth with which he continues
casion Sheibani Khan desired him to play. After to chronicle all his subsequent and very fregiving much trouble he played very ill, and besides, quent excesses.  The Eastern votary of indid not bring his own instrument, but one that was toxication has a pleasant way of varying his
good for nothing. Sheibani Khan, on learning how  enjoyments which was never taken in the
matters stood, directed that, at that very party, he enjoymentst which was never taken in the
should receive a certain number of blows on the neck. West. When the fluid elements of drunkenThis was one good deed that Sheibani Khan did in ness begin to pall on him, he betakes him  to
his day; and indeed the affectation of such people what is learnedly called a maajmn, being a sort
deserves even more severe animadversion."      of electuary or confection, made up with
In the seductions of this luxurious court, pleasant spices, and rendered potent by a
Baber's orthodox abhorrence to wine was first large admixture of opium, bang, and other
assailed with temptation:-and there is some- narcotic ingredients: producing a solid intoxithing very naive, we think, in his account of cation of a very delightful and desirable de.
his reasonings and feelings on the occasion.   scription.  One of the first drinking matches
that is described makes honourable mention
* No moral poet ever had a higher reputation  of this variety:than Jami. His poems are written with great
beauty of language and versification, in a captivating    "The maajfin-takers and spirit-drinkers, as they
strain of religious and philosophic mysticism. He have different tastes, are very apt to take offence
is not merely admired for his sublimity as a poet, with each other. I said,'Don't spoil the cordiality
but venerated as a saint."                     of the party; whoever wishes to drink spirits, let




MEMOIRS OF BABER.                                       283
him drink spirits; and let him that prefers maajun, place till bed-time prayers. Mil'l Mahmud Khulifeh
take maajun; and let not the one party give any  having arrived, we invited him to join us. Abdalla,
idle or provoking language to the other.' Some sat who had got very drunk, made an observation
down to spirits, some to maajun. The party went which affected Khalifeh. Without recollecting that
on for some time tolerably well. Baba Jan Kabfizi Mitlla Mahmud was present, he repeated the verse,
had not been in the boat; we had sent for him when
we reached the royal tents. He chose to drink     Persan.) Examnewhom youllyouwlfind
spirits. Terdi Muhammed Kipchak, too, was sent him suffering from the same wound.
for, and joined the spirit-drinkers. As the spirit- Muilly Mahmud, who did not drink, reproved Abdrinkers and maajun-takers never can agree in one dalla for repeating this verse with levity.* Abdalla,
party, the spirit-bibing party began to indulge in recovering his judgment, was in terrible perturbafoolish and idle conversation, and to make provok-. tion, and conversed in a wonderfully smooth and
ing remarks on maajfin and maajfin-takers. Baba sweet strain all the rest of the evening."
Jan, too, getting drunk, talked very absurdly. The
tipplers, filling up glass after glass for Terdi Mu- In a year or two after this, when he seems
lammed, made him drink them off, so that in a to be in a course of unusual indulgence, we
very short tirme he was mad drunk. Whatever meet with the following edifying remark:
exertions I could make to preserve peace, were all A" As I intend, when forty years old, to abstain
unavailing; there was much uproar and wrangling. from wine; and as I now want somewhat less
The party became quite burdensome and unplea- than one year of being forty, I drink 
*ant, and soon broke up."                      than one year of being forty, I drink ucle
most copiously!"  CWhen forty comes, howThe second day after, we find the royal ever, we hear nothing of this sage resolution
bacchanal still more grievously overtaken:    -but have a regular record of the wine and
" We continued drinking spirits in the boat till maajfin parties as before, up to the year 1527.
bed-time prayers, when, being completely drunk, In that year, however, he is seized with rather
we mounted, and taking torches in our hands came a sudden fit of penitence, and has the resolu.
at full gallop back to the camp from the river-side, tion to begin a course of rigorous reform.
falling sometimes on one side of the horse, and There is something rather picturesque in his
sometimes on the other. I was miserably drunk, very solemn and remarkable account of this
and next morning, when they told me of our having very solemn
galloped into the camp with lighted torches in our great revolution in his habits:
hands, I had not the slightest recollection of the    " On Monday the 23d of the first Jemadi, I had
circumstance.  After coming home, I vomited  mounted to survey my posts, and, in the course of
plentifully."                                  my ride, was seriously struck with the reflection
-Even in the middle of a harassing~ and des- that I had always resolved, one time or another, to
make an effectual repentance, and that some traces
ultory campaign, there is no intermission of of a hankering  after the renunciation  of forbidden
this excessive jollity, though it sometimes puts works had ever remained in my heart. Having
the parties into jeopardy,-for example:-       sent for the gold and silver goblets and cups, with
all the other utensils used for drinking parties, I
"We continued at this place drinking till the sun alt the other utensils used for drinking parties, I' Tse ontinued at theis plade sdrenkon ti the wsndirected them to be broken, and renounced the use
was on the decline, when we set out. Those who of wine-purifying my mind! The fragments of
had been of the party were completely drunk. the goblets, and other utensils of gold and silver, I
Syed Kasim was so drunk, that two of his servants directed to be divided among Derwishes and the
were obliged to put him on horseback, and brought poor. The first person who followed me in my rehim to the camp with great difficulty. Dost Mu- pentance was Asas, who also accompanied me in
hammed Bakir was so far gone, that Amrin Mu- my resolution of ceasing to cut the beard, and of
hammed Terkhan, Masti Chehreh, and those who allowing it to grow.t That night and the following,
were along with him, were unable, with all their numbers of Amirs and courtiers, soldiers and per.
exertions, to get him on horseback. They poured sons not in the service, to the number of nearly
a great quantity of water over him, but all to no three hundred men, made vows of reformation.
purpose. At this moment a body of Afghans ap- The wine which we had with us we poured on the
peared in sight.  Amin Muhammed T'erkhan, ground! I ordered that the wine brought by Baba
being very drunk, gravely gave it as his opinion, Dost should have salt thrown into it, that it might
that rather than leave him, in the condition in which  be make into vinegar. On the spot where the wine
he was, to fall into the hands of the enemy, it was had been poured out, I directed a wain to be sunk
better at once to cut off his head, and carry i  and built of stone, and close by the wain an almsaway. Making another exertion, however, with house to be erected."
much difficulty, they contrived to throw him upon
a horse, which they led along, and so brought   He then issued a magnificent Firman, anhim off."                                      nouncing his reformation, and recommending
On some occasions they contrive to be  its example to all his subjects.  But he still
drunk four times in twenty-four hours.  The  persists, we find, in the use of a mild maajfun.
gallant prince contents himself with a strong We are sorry to be obliged to add, that though
imaajzin one day; but                  -       he had the firmness to persevere to the last
in his abstinence from wine, the sacrifice
"Next morning we had a drinking party in the seems to have cost him  very dear; and he
same tent. We continued drinking till night. Onl
the following morning we again had an early cup,
and, getting intoxicated, went to sleep. About after his broken wine-cups, and to look back
noon-day prayers, we left Istllif, and I took a with fond regret to the delights ihe had abmaajan on the road. It was about afternoon prayers
before I reached Behzadi. The crops were ex- * "This verse, I presume, is from a religious
tremely good. While I was riding round the har- poem, and has a mystical meaning. The profane
vest-fields, such of my companions as were fond application of it is the ground of offence."
of wine began to contrive another drinking-bout.   t' "This vow was sometimes made by persons
Although I had taken a maajuin, yet, as the crops who set out on a war against the Infidels. They
were uncommonly fine! we sat down under some did not trim the beard till they returned victorious.
trees that had yielded a plentiful load of fruit, and  Some vows of a similar nature may be fobund in
began to drink. We kept up the party in the same Scripture."




284                     HISTORY AND HISTORICAL MEMOIRS.
juretl for ever.  There is something abso- tribution levied on her private fortune.  The
lutely pathetic, as well as amiable, in the  following brief anecdote speaks volumes as to
following candid avowal in a letter written  the difference of European and Asiatic manthe very year before his death to one of his ners and tempers:olld dcrinking companions:-                      " Another of his wives was Katak Begum, who' In a letter which I wrote to Abdalla, I men- was the foster-sister of this same Terkhfn Begum.
tioned that I had much difficulty in reconciling my- Sultan Ahrnmed Mirza married her for love. He was
self to the desert of penitence; but that I had prodigiously attached to her, and she governed him
resolution enough to persevere,-               with absolute sway. She drank wine. During her
(Turki verse.)                   life, the Sultan durst not venture to frequent any
(Turki erse.)                          other of his ladies. At last, however, he put her to
I am distressed since I renounced wine;  death, and delivered himself from this reproach."
I am confounded and unfit for business,Regret leads me to penitence,            In several of the passages we have cited,
Penitence leads me to regret.          there are indications of this ambitious warIndeed, last year, my desire and longing for wine rior's ardent love for fine flowers, beautiful
and social parties were beyond measure excessive. gardens, and bright waters.  But the work
It even came to such a length that I have found abounds with traits of this amiable and, with
myself shedding tears from vexation and disappoint- reference to some of these anecdotes apparment. In the present year, praise be to God, these
troubles are over, and I ascribe them chiefly to the ehtly ill-sorted propensity.  In one place he
occupation afforded to my mind by a poetical trans- sayslation, on which I have employed myself. Let me    "In the warm season they are covered with the
advise you too, to adopt a life of abstinence. Social
parties and wine are pleasant, in company with our chekAn-taleh grass in a very beautiful manner, and
the Aimaks and Tfirks resort to them. In the
jolly'friends and old boon companions.  But with
jolly friends and old boon companions. But with  skirts of' these mountains the ground is richly diwhom can you enjoy the social cup?  With whom  versified by various kinds of tulips. I once directed
can you indulge in the pleasures of wine? If you
have  only Shir Ahmed, and Raider Kulli, for the them to be counted, and they brought in thirty-two
companions of your gay hours and jovial goblet, or thiry-three different sorts of tulps. There is
can surely find no great difficulty n    one species which has a scent in some degree like
you can surely find no great difficulty In consenting  the rose, and which I termed laleh-gul-biii (the roseto the sacrifice. I conclude with every good wish."  the nose, and which I termed laehul-ui (the rose
scented tulip). This species is found only in the
We have mentioned already that Baber ap- Desht-e-Sheikh (the Sheikh's plain), in a small spot
pears to have been of a frank and generous of ground, and nowhere else. In the skirts of the
hpearacs to havenbeeneoe areankandgenerous-same hills below Perwan, is produced the laleh-sedcharacter —and there are, throughout the Me- berg (or hundred-leaved tulip), which is likewise
moirs, various traits of clemency and tender- found only in one narrow spot of ground, as we
ness of heart, scarcely to have been expected  emerge from the straits of Ghfirbend."
in an Eastern monarch and professional war-    And a little afterrior.  He weeps ten whole days for the loss
of.a friend who fell over a precipice after one    "Few quarters possess a district that can rival
of their drinking parties; and spares the lives, Istallf. A large river runs through it, and on either
of their drinking parties and spares the lives, side of' it are gardens, green, gay, and beautiful. Its
and even restores the domains of various water is so cold, that there is no need of icing it;
chieftains, who had betrayed his confidence, and it is particularly pure. In this district is a garand afterwards fallen into his power.  Yet den, called Bagh-e-Kilan (or the Great Garden),
there are traces of Asiatic ferocity, and of a which Llugh Beg Mirza seized upon. I paid the
hard-hearted wastefulness  ofA lifer  whict h reo  price of the garden to the proprietors, and received
mind us that we  are beyond the pale of Eu- from them a grant of it. On the outside of the
mind us that we are beyond the pale of Eu- garden are large and beautiful spreading plane
ropean gallantry and Christian compassion. trees, under the shade of which there are agreeable
In his wars in Afghan and India, the prisoners spots finely sheltered. A perennial stream, large
are commonly butchered in cold blood after enough to turn a mill, runs through the garden;
the action-and pretty uniformly a triumphal and on its banks are planted planes and other trees.
pyramid is erected of their skulls.  These  Formerly this stream  flowed in a winding and
s.                t.     *          wi.hcrooked course, but I ordered its course to be alhorrible executions; too, are performed with  tered according to a regular plan, which added
much solemnity before the royal pavilion; greatly to the beauty of the place. Lower down
and on one occasion, it is incidentally record- than these villages, and about a koss or a koss and
ed, that such,was the number of prisoners a half above the level plain, on the lower skirts of
brought forward for this infamous butchery,  the hills, is a fountain, named Khwdjeh-seh-y'ra'n
that the sovereign's tent had three times to  (Kwajeh three friends), around which there are
three species of trees; above the fountain are many
be removed to a different station-the ground  beautiful plane-trees, which yield a pleasant shade.
before it being so drenched with blood and  On the two sides of the fountain, on small emiencumbered with quivering carcasses! On  nences at the bottom of the hills, there are a num.
one occasion, and on one only, an attempt ber of oak trees; except on these two spots, where
was made to poison him -the mother of one  there are groves of oak, there is not an oak to be
sof t       he sovereigns whom   he had dethrfoned  met with on the hills to the west of Kabul. In front
of it.e sovereigns whom  he had dethroned  of this fountain, towards the plain, there are many
having bribed his cooks and tasters to mix  spots covered with the flowery Arghwfan* tree, and
death in his repast.  Upon the detection of besides these Arghwan plots, there are none else
the plot, the taster was cut to pieces, the cook  in the whole country."
flayed alive, and the scullions trampled to    We shall add but one other notice of this
death by elephants.  Such, however, was the
tespect paid to rank, or the indulgence to    "The name Arghwan is generally applied to the
maternal resentment, that the prime mover anemone; but in Afghanistan it is given to a beauOf the whole conspiracy, the queen dowager, tiful flowering shrub, which grows nearly to the
is merely put under restraint, and has a con- size of a tree."




MEMOIRS OF BABER.                                      285
elegrant taste-though on the occasion there but of the native simplicity and amiableness
mentioned, the flowers were aided by a less of this Eastern highlander.
delicate sort of excitement.'My solicitude to visit my western dominions is
"This day I ate a maajun. While under its in- boundless, and great beyond expression.'l'he
fluence, I visited some beautiful gardens. In dif' affairs of Hindustan have at length, however, been
ferent beds, the ground was covered with purple reduced into a certain degree of order; and I trust
and yellow Arghwan flowers. On one hand were in Almighty God that the time is near at hand,
beds of yellow flowers in bloom; on the other hand, when, through the grace of the Most High, every
red flowers were in blossom. In many places they thing will be completely settled in this country.
sprung up in the same bed, mingled together as if As soon as matters are brought into that state, I
they had been flung and scattered abroad. I took  shall, God willing, set out for your quarter, with
my seat on a rising ground near the camp, to ernjoy  out losing a moment's time. How is it possible
the view of all the flower-pots. On the six sides that the delights of those lands should ever be
of this eminence they were formed as into regular erased from the heart?  Above all, how is it possibeds. On one side were yellow flowers; on another ble for one like me, who have made a vow of abthe purple, laid out in triangular beds. On two stinence from wine, and of purity of life, to forget
other sides, there were fewer flowers; but, as far the delicious melons and grapes of that pleasant
as the eye could reach, there were flower-gardens region? They very recently brought me a single
of a similar kind. In the neighbourhood of Per- musk-melon. While cutting it up, 1 felt myself
shawer, during the spring, the flower-plots are ex- affected with a strong feeling of loneliness, and a
quisitely beautiful."                          sense of my exile from my native country; and I
We have, now  enabled our readers, we could not help shedding tears while I was eating it!"
think, to judge pretty fairly of the nature of    On the whole, we cannot help having a
this very curious volume; and shall only  liking for "the Tiger" —and the romantic,
present them with a few passages from  two  though somewhat apocryphal account that is
letters written by the valiant author in the given of his death, has no tendencyto diminish
last year of his life.  The first is addressed  our partiality.  It is recorded by Abulfazi,
to his favourite son and successor Hiimaifin. and other native historians, that in the yeai
whom  he had settled in the government of after these Memoirs cease, HumAifn, the beSamarcand, and who was at this time a sover- loved son of Baber, was brought to Agra in a
eign of approved valour and prudence. There state of the most miserable health:
is a very diverting mixture'of sound political
counsel and minute criticism on writing and  When all hopes from medicine were over, attu
while several men of skill were talking to the emcomposition, in this paternal effusion.  We peror of the melancholy situation of his son, Abul
can give but a small part of it.               Baka, a personage highly venerated for his know" In many of your letters you complain of sepa  ledge and piety, remarked to Baber. that in such a
ration from your friends. It is wrong for a prince case the Almighty had soetimes vouchsafed to
to indulge in such a complaint.                receive the most valuable thing possessed by one
"There is certainly no greater bondage than that friend, as an offering in exchange fo;r the life of
in which a king is placed; but it ill becomes him to another. Baber, exclaiming that, of al things, his
complain of inevitable separation.                                  a
life was dearest to Hfmfifin, as Hiimaiin's was to
cIn compliance with my wishes, you have in  him, and that, next to the life of Hfimaiuin, his own
e  was what he most valued, devoted his life to Headeed written me letters, but you certainly never yen as a sacrifice for his son's! The noblemen
read them over; for had you attempted to read  around him entreated him to retract the rash vow,
them, you must have found it absolutely impossible, and, in place of his first offering, to give the rash vow,
and would then undoubtedly have put them by. I and, in place of his first offering, to give the diaand would then undoubtedly have put them by. I mond taken at Agra, and reckoned the most valucontrived indeed to decipher and comprehend the
meaning fyour last letter, but with much di   able on earth: that the ancient sages had said,
meaning of your last letter, but with much diffi- that it was the dearest of our worldly possessions
culty. It is excessively confused and crabbed. Who alon  that was to be offered to Heaven. But he
ever saw a Moamma (a riddle or a charade) in
prosew? Your spelling is not  bad, yet not quite persisted in his resolution, declaring that no stone,
prose                              t not qte  of whatever value, could be put in competition with
correct. You have written iltafat with a toe (in- his life. He three times walked round the dying
stead of a te), and kuling with a be (instead of a his lie.
oeaf). Your letter may indeed be read; but in prince, a solemnity similar to that used in sacrifices
con e of the far-fetched ewords you have and heave-offerings, and, retiring, prayed earnestly
consequence of the far-fetched words you have to God. After some time he was heard to exclaim,
employed, the meaning is by no means very intel-'I have borne it away! I have borne it away!'
ligible. You certainly do not excel in letter-writing,  The Mussulman historians assure us, that Himiin
and fail chiefly because you have too great a desire alman  to recover, and that, in
to show your acquirements. For the future, you almost immediately began to recover, and that, in
to show your acquirements. For the future, you
should write unaffectedly, with clearness, using proportion as he recovered, the health and strength
of Baber visibly decayed. Baber communicated
plain words, which would cost less trouble both to of Baber visibly decayed. Baber communicated
the writer and reader."                        his dying instructions toKhwajeh Khalifeh, Kamber
Ali Beg, Terdi Beg, and Hindu Beg, who were
The other letter is to one of his old com- then at court commending Humaiun to their propanions in arms; —and considering that it is tection.  With that unvarying affection for his
written by an ardent and ambitious conqueror, family which he showed in all the circumstances
from  the capital of his new  empire of Hin- of his life, he strongly besought Humaiin to be
from   the capital of his anew emire  of H-.   kind and forgiving to his brothers. Huimaifin produstan, it seems to us a very striking proof, mised-and, what in such circumstances is rare,
not only of the nothingness of high Tortune, kept his promise."




POETRY.
(     arcll,   1819.)
Specimens of the Brzttsh Pa'ts; with Biographical and Critical Notices, and an Essay on Englisl
Poetry. By THOMAS CAMPBELL. 7 vols. 8vo. London: 1819.
WE would rather see Mr. Campbell as a   If he were like most authors. or even like
poet, than as a commentator on poetry:-be- most critics, we could easily have pardoned
cause we would rather have a solid addition this; for we very seldom find any work too
to the sum of our treasures, than the finest or short. It is the singular goodness of his critimost judicious account of their actual amount. cisms that makes us regret their fewness; for
But we are very glad to see him in any way: nothing, we think, can be more fair, judicious
— and think the work which he has now given and discriminating, and at the same time
us very excellent and delightful. Still, how- more fine, delicate and original, than the
ever, we think there is some little room for greater part of the discussions with which he
complaint; and, feeling that we have not got has here presented us. It is very rare to find
all we were led to expect, are unreasonable so much sensibility to the beauties of poetry,
enough to think that the learned author still united with so much toleration for its faultsowes us an arrear: which we hope he will and so exact a perception of the merits oft
handsomely pay up in the next edition.   every particular style, interfering so little
When a great poet and a man of distin- with a just estimate of all. Poets, to be sure,
guished talents announces a large selection are on the whole, we think, very indulgent
of English poetry,'"with biographical and judges of poetry; and that not so much, we
critical notices," we naturally expect such verily believe, from any partiality to their own
notices of all, or almost all the authors, of vocation, or desire to exalt their fraternity,
whose works he thinks it worth while to as from their being more constantly alive to
favour us with specimens. The biography those impulses which it is the business of
sometimes may be unattainable-and it may poetry to excite, and more quick to catch and
still more frequently be uninteresting-but to follow out those associations on which its
the criticism must always be valuable; and, efficacy chiefly depends. If it be true, as
indeed, is obviously that which must be we have formerly endeavoured to show, with
looked to as constituting the chief value of reference to this very author, that poetry proany such publication. There is no author so duces all its greater effects, and works its
obscure, if at all entitled to a place in this more memorable enchantments, not so much
register, of whom it would not be desirable to by the images it directly presents, as by those
know the opinion of such a man as Mr. Camp- which it suggests to the fancy; and melts or
bell-and none so mature and settled in fame, inflames us less by the fires which it applies
upon whose beauties and defects, and poetical from without, than by those which it kindles
character in general, the public would not within, and of which the fuel is in our own
have much to learn from such an authority. bosoms,-it will be readily understood how
Now, there are many authors, and some of these effects should be most powerful in the
no mean note. of whom he has not conde- sensitive breast of a poet; and how a spark
scended to say one word, either in the Essay, which would have been instantly quenched
or in the notices prefixed to the citations. Of in the duller atmosphere of an ordinary brain,
Jonathan Swift, for example, all that is here may create a blaze in his combustible imagirecorded is "Born 1667-died 1744;" and nation, to warm  and enlighten the world.
Otway is despatched in the same summary The greater poets, accordingly, have almost
manner —"Born 1651-died 1685."  Mar- always been the warmest admirers. and the
lowe is commemorated in a single page, and most liberal patrons of poetry. The smaller
Butler in half of one. All this is rather ca- only-your Laureates and Ballad-mongers —
pricious: —But this is not all. Sometimes the are envious and irritable-jealous even of the
notices are entirely biographical, and some- dead, and less desirous of the praise of others
times entirely critical. We humbly conceive than avaricious of their own.
they ought always to have been of both des-   But though a poet is thus likely to be a
criptions. At all events, we ought in every gentler critic of poetry than another, and,
case to have had some criticism, —since this by having a finer sense of its beauties, to be
oould always have been had, and could better qualified for the most leasing and imFcarcely have failed to be valuable. Mr. C., portant part of his office, there is another
we think, has been a little lazy.        requisite in which we should be afraid he
286




CAMPBELL'S SPECIMENS OF THE POETS.                          287
would generally be found wanting, especially bell was himself a Master in a distinct,scnooi
in a work of the large and comprehensive of poetry, and distinguished by a very pecunature of that now before us-we mean, in liar and fastidious style of composition, with.
absolute fairness and impartiality towards the out being apprehensive that the effects of this
different schools or styles of poetry which he bias would be apparent in his work; and that
may have occasion to estimate and compare. with all his talent and discernment, he would
Even the most common and miscellaneous now and then be guilty of great, though un
reader has a peculiar taste in this way-and intended injustice, to some of those whose
has generally erected for himself some ob- manner was most opposite to his own. We
scure but exclusive standard of excellence, are happy to say'that those apprehensions
by which he measures the pretensions of all have proved entirely groundless; and that
that come under his view. One man admires nothing in the volumes before us is more adwitty and satirical poetry, and sees no beauty mirable, or to us more surprising, than the
in rural imagery or picturesque description; perfect candour and undeviating fairness with
while another doats on Idyls and Pastorals, which the learned author passes judgment on
and will not allow the affairs of polite life to all the different authors who come before him;
form a subject for verse. One is for simplic- -the quick and true perception he has of the
ity and pathos; another for magnificence and most opposite and almost contradictory beausplendour. One is devoted to the Muse of ties-the good-natured and liberal allowance
terror; another to that of love. Some are all he makes for the disadvantages of each age
for blood and battles, and some for music and and individual-and  the temperance and
moonlight-some for emphatic sentiments, brevity and firmness with which he reproves
and some for melodious verses. Even those the excessive severity of critics less entitled
whose taste is the least exclusive, have a lean- to be severe. No one indeed, we will venture
ing to one class of composition rather than to to affirm, ever placed himself in the seat of
another; and overrate the beauties which fall judgment with more of a judicial temperin with their own propensities and associations though, to obviate invidious comparisons, we
-while they are palpably unjust to those must beg leave just to add, that being called
which wear a different complexion, or spring on to pass judgment only on the dead, whose
from a different race.                    faults were no longer corrigible, or had already
But, if it be difficult or almost impossible been expiated by appropriate pains, his temto meet with an impartial judge for the whole per was less tried, and his severities less progreat family of genius, even among those voked, than in the case of living offenders —
quiet and studious readers who ought to find and that the very number and variety of the
delight even in their variety, it is obvious that errors that called for animadversion, in the
this bias and obliquity of judgment must be course of his wide survey, must have made
still more incident to one who, by being him- each particular case appear comparatively
self a Poet, must not only prefer one school insignificant, and mitigated the sentence of
of poetry to all others, but must actually be- individual condemnation.
long to it, and be disposed, as a pupil, or still  It is to this last circumstance, of the large
more as a Master, to advance its pretensions and comprehensive range which he was obabove those of, all its competitors. Like the liged to take, and the great extent and variety
votaries or leaders of other sects, successful of the society in which he was compelled to
poets have been but too apt to establish ex- mingle, that we are inclined to ascribe, not
elusive and arbitrary creeds; and to invent only the general mildness and indulgence of
articles of faith, the slightest violation of his judgments, but his happy emancipation
which effaces the merit of all other virtues. from those narrow and limitary maxims by
Addicting themselves, as they are apt to do, which we have already said that poets are so
to the exclusive cultivation of that style to peculiarly apt to be entangled. As a large
which the bent of their own genius naturally and familiar intercourse with men of different
inclines them, they l(c-k everywhere for those habits and dispositions never fails, in characbeauties of which it is peculiarly susceptible, ters of any force or generosity, to dispel the
and are disgusted if they cannot be found.-  prejudices with which we at first regard them,
Like discoverers in science. or improvers in and to lower our estimate of our own superior
art. they see nothing in the whole system but happiness and wisdom, so, a very ample and
their own discoveries and improvements, and extensive course of reading in any departundervalue every thing that cannot be con- ment of letters, tends nati rally to enlarge our
nected with their own studies and glory. As narrow principles of judgment; and not only
the Chinese mapmakers allot all the lodgeable to cast down the idols before which we had
area of the earth to their own nation, and formerly abased ourselves, but to disclose to
thrust the other countries of the world into us the might and the majesty of much that
tittle outskirts and by-corners-so poets are we had mistaken and contemned.
disposed to represent their own little field of   In this point of view, we think such a work
exertion as occupying all the sunny part of as is now before us, likely to be of great use
Parnassus, and to exhibit the adjoining regions to ordinary readers of poetry-not only as
under terrible shadows and most unmerciful unlocking to them innumerable new springs
foreshortenings.                          of enjoyment and admiration but as having
With those impressions of the almost in- a tendency to correct and liberalize their
wvitable partiality of poetical judgments in judgments of their old favourites, and to
general, we could not recollect that Mr. Camp- strengthen and enliven all those faculties by




288                                  POETRY.
which they derive pleasure from such studies. being a mere bookseller's speculation.-At
Nor would the benefit, if it once extended so we have heard nothing of it from the time of
far, by any means stop there. The character its first publication, we suppose it has had the
of our poetry depends not a little on the taste success it deserved.
of our poetical readers;-and though some   There was great room therefore, -and, we
bards have always been before their age, and will even say, great occaliion, for such a work
some behind it, the greater part must be as this of Mr. Canlpblll's, in the present state
pretty nearly on its level. Present popularity, of our literature; —and we are persuaded, that
whatever disappointed writers may say, is, all who care about poetry, and are not already
after all, the only safe passage of future glory; acquainted with the authors of whom it treats
-and it is really as unlikely that good poetry -and even all who are-cannot possibly do
should be produced in any quantity where it better than read it fairly through, from the
is not relished, as that cloth should be manu- first page to the last-without skipping the
factured and thrust into the market, of a extracts which they know, or those which may
pattern and fashion for which there was no not at first seem very attractive. There is no
demand. A shallow and uninstructed taste reader, we will venture to say, who will rise
is indeed the most flexible and inconstant-  from the perusal even of these partial and
and is tobssed about by every breath of doc- scanty fragments, without a fresh and deep
trine, and every wind of authority; so as sense of the matchless richness, variety, and
neither to derive any permanent delight from  originality of English Poetry: while the juxthe same works, nor to assure any permanent taposition and arrangement of the pieces not
fame to their authors;-while a taste that is only gives room for endless comparisons and
formed upon a wide and large survey of en- contrasts,-but displays, as it were in miniaduring models, not only affords a secure basis ture, the whole of its wonderful progress; and
for all future judgments, but must compel, sets before us, as in a great gallery of pictures,
whenever it is general in any society, a salu- the whole course and history of the art, from
tary conformity to its great principles from all its first rude and infant beginnings, to its
who depend on its suffrage.-To accomplish maturity, and perhaps its decline. While it
such ail object, the general study of a work has all the grandeur and instruction that belike this certainly is not enough: —But it longs to such a gallery, it is free from the
would form an excellent preparation for more perplexity and distraction which is generally
extensive reading-and would, of itself, do complained of in such exhibitions; as each
much to open the eyes of many self-satisfied piece is necessarily considered separately and
persons, and startle them into a sense of their in succession, and the mind cannot wander,
own ignorance, and the poverty and paltriness like the eye. through the splendid labyrinth
of many of their ephemeral favourites. Con- in which it is enchanted. Nothing, we think,
sidered as a nation, we are yet but very im- can be more delightful, than thus at our ease
perfectly recovered from  that strange and to trace, through all its periods, vicissitudes,
ungrateful forgetfulness of our older poets, and aspects, the progress of this highest and
which began with the Restoration, and con- most intellectual of all the arts-coloured as
tinued aTmost unbroken till after the middle it is in every age by the manners of the times
of the last century.-Nor can the workswhich which produce it, and embodying, besides
have chiefly tended to dispel it among the those flights of fancy and touches of pathos
instructed orders, be ranked in a higher class that constitute its more immediate essence,
than this which is before us.-Percy's Relics much of the wisdom and much of the morality
of Antient Poetry produced, we believe, the that was then current among the people; and
first revulsion-and this was followed up by thus presenting us, not merely with almost
Wharton's History ofPoetry.-Johnson's Lives all that genius has ever created for delight,
of the Poets did something;-and the great but with a brief chronicle and abstract of all
effect has been produced by the modern com- that was once interesting to the generations
montators on Shakespeare.  Those various which have gone by.
works recommended the older writers, and   The steps of the progress of such an art,
reinstated them in some of their honours;-  and the circumstances by which they have
but still the works themselves were not placed been effected, would form, of themselves, a
before the eyes of ordinary readers. This large and interesting theme of speculation.
was done in part, perhaps overdone, by the Conversant as poetry necessarily is with all
entire republication of some of our older dra- that touches human feelings, concerns, and
matists-and with better effect by Mr. Ellis's occupations, its character must have been imSpecimens.  If the former, however, was pressed by every change in the moral and
rather too copious a supply for the returning political condition of society, and must even
appetite of the public, the latter was too retain the lighter traces of their successive
scanty; and both were confined to too narrow  follies, amusements, and pursuits; while, in
a- period of time to enable the reader to enjoy the course of ages, the very multiplication
the variety, and to draw the comparisons, by and increasing business of the people have
which he might be most pleased and instruct- forced it through a progress not wholly dis.
ed.-Southey's continuation of Ellis did harm  similar to that which the same causes have
rather than good; for though there is some produced on the agriculture and landscape of
cleverness in the introduction, the work itself the country; —where at first we had rude and
is executed in a crude, petulant, and super- dreary wastes, thinly sprinkled with sunny
fic~ial manner, -and bears all the marks of spots of simple cultivation-then vast forests




CAMPBELL'S SPECIMENS OF THE POETS.                          28S
and chases. stretching far around feudal cas- has complied perhaps too far with the populai
tles and pinnacled abbeys-then woodland prejudice, in confining his citations from Mil.
hamlets, and goodly mansions, and gorgeous ton to the Comus and the smaller pieces; and
gardens, and parks rich with waste fertility, leaving the Paradise Lost to the memory of
and lax habitations-and, finally, crowded his readers. But though we do not think the
cities. and road-side villas, and brick-walled extracts by any means too long on the whole,
gardens, and turnip-fields. and canals, and we are certainly of opinion that some are too,rtificial ruins, and ornamented farms, and long and others too short; and that many,
cottages trellised over with exotic plants!    especially in the latter case, are not very
But, to escape from those metaphors and well selected. There is far too little of Marenigmas to the business before us, we must lowe for instance, and too much of Shirley,
remark, that in order to give any tolerable and even of Massinger.  We should have
idea of the poetry which was thus to be rep- liked more of Warner, Fairfax, Phineas
resented, it was necessary that the specimens Fletcher and Henry More-all poets of no
to be exhibited should be of some compass scanty dimensions-and could have spared
and extent. We have heard their length several pages of Butler, Mason, Whitehead,
complained of-but we think with very little Roberts, Meston, and Amhurst Selden. We
justice. Considering the extent of the works do not think the specimens from Burns very
from which they are taken, they are almost well selected; nor those from Prior-nor can
all but inconsiderable fragments; and where we see any good reason for quoting the whole
the original was of an Epic or Tragic charac- Castle of Indolence, and nothing else, for
ter, greater abridgment would have been Thomson-and the whole Rape of the Lock,
mere mutilation,-and would have given only and nothing else, for Pope.
such a specimen of the whole, as a brick   Next to the impression of the vast fertility,
might do of a building. From the earlier and compass, and beauty of our English poetry
less familiar authors, we rather think the cita- the reflection that recurs most frequently and
tions are too short; and, even from those that forcibly to us, in accompanying Mr. C. through
are me more generally known, we do not well his wide survey, is that of the perishable nasee how they could have been shorter, with ture of poetical fame, and the speedy oblivion
any safety to the professed object, and only that has overtaken so many of the pro~mised
use, of the publication. That object, we con- heirs of immortality! Of near two hundred
ceive, was to give specimens of English and fifty authors, whose works are cited in
poetry, from its earliest to its latest periods; these volumes. by far the greater part of whom
and it would be a strange rule to have fol- were celebrated in their generation, there are
lowed, in making such a selection, to leave not thirty who now enjoy any thing that can,
out the best and most popular. The work be called popularity-whose works are to be.
certainly neither is, nor professes to be, a col- found in the hands of ordinary readers —i'm
lection from obscure and forgotten authors-  the shops of ordinary booksellers-or in the.
but specimens of all who have merit enough press for republication. About fifty more may,,
to deserve our remembrance; —and if some be tolerably familiar to men of taste or 1jiera-.
few have such redundant merit or good for- ture:-the rest slumber on the shelves of col-.
tune as to be in the hands and the minds of lectors, and are partially known to a few anti-.
all the world, it was necessary, even then, to quaries and scholars. Now, the fame of a.
give some extracts from  themrn,-that the Poet is popular, or nothing. He doe$ not adseries might be complete, and that there dress himself, like the man of science, to the
might be room for comparison with others, learned, or those who desire to learn, but to
and for tracing the progress of the art in the all mankind; and his purpose being to delight
strains of its best models and their various and be praised, necessarily extends to all who 
imitators.                               can receive pleasure, or join in applause. It
In one instance, arid one only, Mr. C. has is strange. then, and somewhat' humiliating
declined doing this duty: and left the place to see how great a proportion of those who
of one great luminary to be filled up by recol- had once fought their way successfully to disc.
lections that he must have presumed would tinction, and surmounted the rivalry of conbe universal. He has given but two pages to temporary envy, have, again sunk into neglect.
SHAKESPEARE-and not a line from any of his We have great deference for public opinion;
plays!  Perhaps he has done rightly. A  and readily admit, that nothing but what is
knowledge of Shakespeare may be safely pre- good can be permanently popular. But though,
sumed, we believe, in every reader; and, if its vivat be generally oracular, its pereat ap.
he had begun to cite his Beauties, there is no pears to us to be often sufficiently capricious;
saying where he would have ended. A little and while we would foster all that it bids to,
book, calling itself Beauties of Shakespeare, live, we would willingly revive much that it,
was published some years ago, and shown, as leaves to die. The very multiplication of
we have heard, to Mr. Sheridan. He turned works of amusement, necessarily withdraws.
over the leaves for some time with apparent many from notice that deserve to be kept in
satisfaction, and then said, "This is very remembrance; for we should soon find itwell; but where are the other seven volumes'  labour, and not amusement, if we were obliged
There is no other author, however, whose to make use of them all, or even to take all
fame is such as to justify a similar ellipsis, upon trial. As the materials of enjoyment and!
or whose works can be thus elegantly under- instruction accumulate around us, more and.
stood, in a collection of good poetry. Mr. C. more, we fear, must thus be daily rejected, aAn&
19




too                                   POETRY.
left to waste: For while oar tasks lengthen, for antiquity of his predecessor-there shall
our lives remain as short as ever; and the posterity still hang with rapture on the half of
calls on our time multiply, while our time Campbell —and the fourth part of Byron-and
itself is flying swiftly away. This superfluity the sixthof Scott-and the scattered tythes
and abundance of our treasures, therefore, of Crabbe-and the three per cent. of Southey,
necessarily renders much of them worthless; -while some good-natured critic shall sit in
and the veriest accidents may, in such a case, our mouldering chair, and more than half pre.
determine what part shall be preserved, and fer them to those by whom they have been
what thrown away and neglected. When an superseded! —It is an hyperbole of good naarmy is decimated, the very bravest may fall; ture, however, we fear, to ascribe to them even
and many poets, worthy of eternal remem- those dimensions at the end of a century. Afbrance, have probably been forgotten, merely ter a lapse of two hundred and fifty years, we
because there was not room in our memories are afraid to think of the space they may have
for all.                                    shrunk into. We have no Shakespeare, alas!
By such a work as the present, however, to shed a never-setting light on his contemthis injustice of fortune may be partly re- poraries:-and if we continue to write and
dressed-some small fragments of an immor- rhyme at the present rate for two hundred
tal strain may still be rescued from oblivion-  years longer, there must be some new art of
and a wreck of a name preserved, which time short-hand reading invented-or all reading
appeared to have swallowed up for ever. will be given up in despair. We need not
There is something pious we think, and en- distress ourselves, however. with these afflicdearing, in the office of thus gathering up the tions of our posterity;-and it is quite time
ashes of renown that has passed away; or that the reader should know a little of the
rather, of calling back the departed life for work before us.
a transitory glow, and enabling those great   The Essay on English Poetry is very clevspirits which seemed to be laid for ever, still erly, and, in many places, very finely written
to draw a tear of pity, or a throb of admira- -but it is not equal, and it is not complete.
tion, from the hearts of a forgetful generation. There is a good deal of the poet's waywardThe body of their poetry, probably, can never ness even in Mr. C.'s prose. His historical
be revived; but some sparks of its spirit may Muse is as disdainful of drudgery and plain
yet be preserved, in a narrower and feebler work as any of her more tuneful sisters;Jrame.                                      and so we have things begun and abandoned
When we look back upon the havoc which -passages of great eloquence and beauty
two hundred years have thus made in the followed up by others not a little careless and
r~naks of our immortals — and, above all, disorderly-a large outline rather meagerly
*eat  we refer their rapid disappearance to filled up, but with some morsels of exquisite
gthe -!ick succession of new competitors, and finishing scattered irregularly up and down
Ihe:aeeamulation of more good works than its expanse-little fragments of detail and
tftere is time to peruse, we cannot help being controversy-and abrupt and impatient condismrayed at the prospect which lies before clusions. Altogether, however, the work is
the writers of the present day. There never very spirited; and abounds with the indicawas an age so prolific of popular poetry as tions of a powerful and fine understanding,
that in which we now live;-and as wealth  and of a delicate and original taste. We canpopulation, and education extend, the produce not now afford to give any abstract of the in.
is likely to go on increasing. The last ten formation it contains-but shall make a few
years have produced, we think, an annual extracts, to show the tone and manner of the
supply of about ten thousand lines of good composition.
staple poetry-poetry from  the very first   The following sketch of Chaucer. for inhands thatwe can boastof-that runs quickly stance, and of the long interregnum  that
to three or four large editions-and is as likely  succeeded his demise,'is given with great
to be permanent as present success can make grace and spirit.
it. Now, if this goes on for a hundred years   "His first, and long-continued predilection, was
longer, what a task will await the poetical attracted by the new and allegorical style of roreaders of 1919! Our living poets will then mance, which had sprung up in France, in the
be nearly as old as Pope and Swift are at pres- thirteenth century, under William de Lorris. We
ent-but there will stand between them and find him, accordingly, during a great part of his
that generation nearly ten times as much fresh poetical career, engaged among the dreams, emthan  f.e..aionae poetry an times nw ierpsed  blems, flower-worshippings, and amatory parlia-.
and fashionable poetry as is now interposed  ments, of that visionary school. This, we may
between us and those writers:-and if Scott say, was a gymnasium of rather too light and play.
and Byron and Campbell have already cast ful exercise for so strong a genius; and it must be
Pope andsSwift a good deal into the shade in owned, that his allegorical poetry is often puerile
what form and dimensions are they themselves and prolix. Yet, even in this walk of fiction, we
~likely to be presented to the eyes of our great never entirely lose sight of that peculiar grace and
likely to be presented to the eyes of our great gaiety, which distinguish the Muse of Chaucer;
grandchildren? The thought, we own, is a and no one who remembers his productions of the
little appalling;-and we confess we see noth- House of Fame, and the Flower and the Leaf, will
ing better to imagine than that they may find regret that he sported, for a season, in the field ol
a comfortable place in some new collection allegory. Even his pieces of this description, the;:of specimens-the centenary of the present most fantastic in design, and tedious in execution,
Aof specimens —the centenary of the  present are generally interspersed with fresh and joyous
ipublication. There-if the future editor have descriptions of external nature. In this new species
any thing like the indulgaice and veneration of romance, we perceive the youthful Muse of the




CAMPBELL'S SPECIMENS OF THE POETS.                                  291
language, in love with mystical meanings and forms back to us from the southern languages, clothed in
of fancy, more remote, if possible from  reality, new luxury by the warm imagination of the south.
than those of the chivalrous fable itself; and'we  The growth of poetry under such circumstances
tould, sometimes, wish her back from her em- might indeed be expected to be as irregular as it was
rlematic castles, to the more solid ones of the elder profuse. The field was open to daring absurdity,
fable; but still she moves in pursuit of those shad. as well as to genuine inspiration; and accordingly
ows with an impulse of novelty, and an exuber- there is no period in which the extremes of good and
ance of spirit, that is not wholly without its attrac- bad writing are so abundant."-pp. 120-122.
tion and delight. Chaucer was, afterwards, happily    " The mistaken opinion that Ben Jonson censured
drawn to the more natural style of' Boccaccio; and  the antiquity of the diction in the' Fairy Queen,' has
from him he derived the hint of a subject, in which, been corrected by Mr. Malone, who pronounces it
besides his own original portraits of contemporary  to be exactly that of his contemporaries. His au.
life, he could introduce stories of every description, thority is weighty; still, however, without reviving
from  the most heroic to the most familiar."- the exploded error respecting Jonson's censure, one
pp. 71-73.   might imagine the difference of Spenser's style from
"Warton, with great beauty and justice, com- that of Shakespeare's, whom he so shortly pre.
pares the appearance of Chaucer in our language, ceded, to indicate that his Gothic subject and story
to a premature day in an English spring; after made him lean towards words of the elder time.
which the gloom of winter returns, and the buds At all events, much of his expression is now become
and blossoms, which have been called forth by a antiquated; though it is beautiful in its antiquity,
transient sunshine, are nipped by frosts, and scat- and, like the moss and ivy on some majestic buildtered by storms. The causes of the relapse of our ing, covers the fabric of his language with romantic
poetry, after Chaucer, seem -but too apparent in the and venerable associations.
annals of English history; which, during five reigns   " His command of imagery is wide, easy, and
of the fifteenth century, continue to display but a luxuriant. He threw the soul of harmony into our
tissue of conspiracies, proscriptions, and bloodshed. verse, and made it more warmly, tenderly, and
Inferior even to France in literary progress, Eng. magnificently descriptive than it ever was before,
land displays in the fifteenth century a still more or, with a few exceptions, than it has ever been
mortifying contrast with Italy. Italy, too, had her since. It must certainly be owned, that in descripreligious schisms and public distractions; but her tion he exhibits nothing of the brief strokes and
arts and literature had always a sheltering place. robust power which characterize the very greatest
They were even cherished by the rivalship of inde- poets: But we shall nowhere find more airy and
pendent communities, and received encouragement expansive images of visionary things, a sweeter tone
from the opposite sources of commercial and eccle- of sentiment, or a finer flush in the colours of lansiastical wealth.  But we had no Nicholas the guage; than in this Rubens of English poetry. His
Fifth, nor House of Medicis. In England, the evils fancy teems exuberantly in minuteness of circumof civil war agitated society as one mass.'There stance; like a fertile soil sending bloom and verdure
was no refuge from them-no enclosure to fence through the utmost extremities of the foliage which
in the field ofimprovement-no mound tostem the it nourishes. On a comprehensive view of the
torrent of public troubles. Before the death of whole work, we certainly miss the charm  of
Henry VI. it is said that one half of the nobility and strength, symmetry, and rapid or interesting progentry in the kingdom had perished in the field, or gress; for though the plan which the poet designed
on the scaffold!"                             is not completed, it is easy to see that no additional
The golden age of Elizabeth has often been  cantos could have rendered it less perplexed. But
still there is a richness in his materials, even where
extolled, and the genius of Spenser delineated, their coherence is loose, and their disposition conwith feeling and eloquence.  But all that has fused. The clouds of his allegory may seem to
been written, leaves the following striking  spread into shapeless forms, but they are still the
passages as original as they are eloquent.      clouds of a glowing atmosphere. Though his story
grows desultory, the sweetness and grace of his
"In the reign of Elizabeth, the English mind manner still abide by him.  We always rise from
put forth its energies in every direction, exalted by  perusing him with melody in the mind's ear, and
a purer religion, and enlarged by new views of truth. with pictures of romantic beauty impressed on the
This was an age of loyalty, adventure, and gener- imagination."-pp. 124-127.
ous emulation. The chivalrous character was softened by intellectual pursuits, while the genius of    In his account of the great dramatic writers
chivalry itself still lingered, as if unwilling to de- of that and the succeeding reign, Mr. C.'s
part; and paid his last homage to a Warlike and veneration for Shakespeare has made him
Female regn  A degree oand superstiic facy reof rather unjust, we think, to the fame of some
mained, too, in the manners and superstitions of
the people; and Allegory might be said to parade of his precursors. —We have already said that
the streets in their public pageants and festivities. he passes Marlowe with a very slight notice,
Quaint and pedantic as those allegorical exhibitions and a page of citation.-Greene, certainly a
might often be, they were nevertheless more ex- far inferior writer, is treated with the same
pressive of erudition, ingenuity, and moral meaning, scanty courtesy-and  there is no account
than they had been in former times. The philoso-  nd no speci
phy of the highest minds, on the other hand, still  a        men of Kyd or Lodge, though
partook of a visionary character. A poetical spirit both authors of very considerable genius and
infused itself into the practical heroism of the age; originality. —With the writings of Peele, we
and some of the worthies of that period seem less do not profess to be acquainted-but the quolike ordinary men, than like beings called forth out tations given from  him  in the Essay should
of fiction, and arrayed in the brightness of her have entitled him to a place in the body of
dreams. They had'high thoughts seated in hearts
of courtesy.' The life of Sir Philip Sydney was thakespeare  mu st pass ove  what  lle saofys
poetry put into action.                        of Shakespeare and Jonson, though full of
"The result of activity and curiosity in the public beauty and feeling.-To the latter, indeed, he
mind was to complete the revival of classical litera- is rathermore than just.-The account of Beauture, to increase the importation of foreign books, mont and Fletcher is lively and discriminating.
and to multiply translations, from which poetry supplied herself with abundant subjects and materials,   "The theatre of Beaumont and Fletcher contains
and in the use of which she showed a frank and all manner of good and evil. The respective shares
fearless energy, that criticism and satire had not of those dramatic partners, in the works collectively
yet acquired power to overawe. Romance came published with their names, have been stated in a




192                                        POETRY.
different part of these volumes. Fletcher's share  practice of the age. He stood alone, and aloofabov,
in them is by far the largest; and he is chargeable  his times; the bard of immortal subjects, and, as fat
with the greatest number of faults, although at the  as there is perpetuity in language, of immortal fame.
same time his genius was more airy, prolific, and  T'he very choice of those subjects bespoke a con.
fanciful. There are such extremes of grossness tempt for any species of excellence that was attain.
and magnificence in their drama, so much sweetness able by other men. There is something that
and beauty interspersed with views of nature either overawes the mind in conceiving his long-deliberfalsely romantic, or vulgar beyond reality; there is ated selection of that theme-his attempting it after
so much to animate and amuse us, and yet so much  his eyes were shut upon the face of nature-his dethat we would willingly overlook, that I cannot pendence, we might almost say, on supernatural
help comparing the contrasted impressions which inspiration, and in the calm air of strength with
they make to those which we receive from visiting  which he opens Paradise Lost, beginning a mighty
some great and ancient city, picturesquely but irreg. performance without the appearance of' an effort."
ularly built, glittering with spires and surrounded    " The warlike part of Paradise Lost was insepawith gardens, but exhibiting in many quarters the rable from its subject. Whether it could have been
lanes and hovels of wretchedness. They have  differently managed, is a problem which our reverscenes of wealthy and high life, which remind us of ence for Milton will scarcely permit us to state. I
courts and palaces frequented by elegant females feel that reverence too strongly to suggest even the
and high-spirited gallants, whilst their noble old  possibility that Milton could have improved his
martial characters, with Caractacus in the midst of poem, by having thrown his angelic warfare into
them, may inspire us with the same sort of regard  more remote perspective: But it seems to me to be
which we pay to the rough-hewn magnificence of most sublime when it is least distinctly brolight
an ancient fortress.                             home to the imagination. What an awful effect has
" inhappily, the same simile, without being the dim and undefined conception of the conflict,
hunted down, will apply but too faithfully to the which we gather from the retrospects in the first
nuisances of the drama. Their language is often  book! There the veil of mystery is left undrawn
basely profligate. Shakespeare's and Jonson's in- between us and a subject which the powers of de.
delicacies are but casual blots; whilst theirs are scription were inadequate to exhibit. The ministers
sometimes essential colours of their painting, and  of divine vengeance and pursuit had been recalled
extend, in one or two instances, to entire and offen. -the thunders had ceased
sive scenes. This fault has deservedly injured their'To bellow through the vast and boundless deep,'
reputation; and, saving a very slight allowance for
the fashion and taste of their age, admits of no sort (in that line what an image of sound and space is
of apology. Their drama, nevertheless, is a very  conveyed!)-and our terrific conception of the past
wide one, and'has armple room and verge enough' is deepened by its indistinctness.  In optics there
to permit the attention to wander pfironm these, are some phenomena which are beautifully decepand to fix on more inviting peculiarities-as on  tive at a certain distance, but which lose their illuthe great variety  of their fables and  person- ve char  on the slightest approach to them  that
ages, their spirited dialogue, their wit, pathos, and  changes the light and position in which they are
humour.  Thickly sown as their blemishes' are  viewed. Something like this takes place in the
their merits will bear great deductions, and stillphenomena of fancy. The array of the fallen
remain great. We never can forget such beautiful angels in hell-the unfurling of the standard of
characters as their Cellide, their Aspatia and Bellario, or such humorous ones as their La Writ and'In perfect phalanx, to the Dorian mood
Cacafogo. Awake they will always keep us,               Of flutes and soft recorders'whether to quarrel or to be pleased with them. all this human pomp and circumstance of war is
Their invention is fruitful; its beings are on the  magicandoverwhelmingilltsion. Theimaulnation
whole anl active and sanguine generation; and their is taken by surprise. But the noblest efforts of
scenes are crowded to fulness with the warmth, language are tried with very unequal effect, to interagitation, and interest of actual life."-pp. 210-213. est us in the immediate and close view of the battle
itself' in the sixth book; and the martial demons,
Some of the most splendid passages in the  who charmed us in the shades of hell, lose some
Essay are dedicated to the fame of Milton-   portion of their sublimity, when their artillery is
and are offerings not unworthy of the shrine.  discharged in the daylight of heaven.
" If we call diction the garb of thought, Milton,
"In Milton," he says, " there may be traced ob- in his style, may be said to wear the costume of
ligations to several minor English poets: But his sovereignty. The idioms even of foreign languages
genius had too great a supremacy to belong to any  contributed to adorn it. He was the most learned
school. Though he acknowledged a filial rever- of poets; yet his learning interferes not with his
ence for Spenser as a poet, he left no Gothic irregu- substantial English purity. His simplicity is unimlar tracery in the design of his own great work, but paired by glowing ornament,-like the bush in the
gave a classical harmony of parts to its stupendous sacred flame, which burnt but'was not consumed.'
pile. It thus resembles a dome, the vastness of    "In delineating the blessed spirits, Milton has
which is at first sight concealed by its symmetry, exhausted all the conceivable variety that could be
but which expands more and more to the eye while given to pictures of unshaded sanctity; but it is
it is contemplated. His early poetry seems to have chiefly in those of the fallen angels that his excelneither disturbed nor corrected the bad taste of his lence is conspicuous above every thing ancient or
age.-Comus came into the world unacknowledged  modern. Tasso had, indeed, portrayed an infernal
by its author, and Lycidas appeared at first only  council; and had given the hint to our poet of aswith his initials. These, and other exquisite pieces, cribing the origin of pagan worship to those repro-,omposed in the happiest years of his life, at his bate spirits. But how poor and squalid in com-'father's country-house at Horton, were collectively  parison of the Miltonic Pandtemonium  are the
published, with his name affixed to them, in 1645; Scyllas, the Cyclopses, and the Chimeras of the
but that precious volume, which included L'Allegro  Infernal Council of the Jerusalem!  r'asso's conand Il Penseroso did not (I believe) come to a clave of fiends is a den of ugly incongruous monsecond edition, till it was republished by himself at sters. The powers of Milton's hell are godlike
the distance of eight-and-twenty years. Almost a shapes and forms. Their appearance dwarfs every
century elapsed before his minor works obtained  other poetical conception, when we turn our dilated
their proper fame.                               eyes from contemplating them. It is not their ex.
" Even when Paradise Lost first appeared, though  ternal attributes alone Which expand the imagina.
it was not neglected, it attracted no crowd of imi- tion, but their souls, which are as colossal as their
tators, and made no visible change in the poetical stature-their' thoughts that wander through eter



CAMPBELL'S SPECIMENS OF THE POETS.                                  293
nity'-the pride that burns amidst the ruins of their   Of the Specimens, which compose tne body
divine natures, and their genius, that feels with the of the work
ardour and debates with the eloquence of heaven."  account. They are  themselves but tinv  an
pp. 242, 247. account. They are themselves but tiny and
slender fragments of the works from which
We have already said, that we think Shir- they are taken  and to abridge them further
ley overpraised-but he is praised with great would be to reduce them  to mere dust and
eloquence. There is but little said of Dryden  rubbish.  Besides, we are not called upon to
in the Essay-but it is said with force and  review the poets of England for the last four
with judgment. In speaking of Pope and his hundred years!-but only the present editor
contemporaries, Mr. C. touches on debateable  and critic.  In the little we have yet to say,
ground:  And we shall close our quotations therefore, we shall treat only of the merits oi
from this part of his work, with the passage  Mr. Campbell. His account of Hall and Cham-.
in which he announces his own indulgent, and, berlayn is what struck us most in his first
perhaps, latitudinarian opinions.              volumes-probably because neither of the
writers whom he so judiciously praises were
"There are exclusionists in taste, who think that formerly familiar to us.  Hall. who was the
they cannot speak with sufficient disparagement of founder of our satirical poetry, wrote his satires
the English poets of the first part of the eighteenth  about the year 1597 when
century; and they are armed with a noble provocative to English contempt, when they have it to say years old; and whether we consider the age
that those poets belong to a French school. Indeed  of the man or of the world, they appear to us
Dryden himself is genetally included in that school; equally wondeiful. In this extraordinary work,
though niore oenuine English is to be found in no
"He discovered," says Mr. C. " not only the
man's pages.'ut in poetry' there are many man-  ay vigour of
sions.' I am free to confess, that I can pass from  ealy vigour of his own genius, but the power and
the elder writers, and still find a charm in the cor- pliability of his native tongue: for in the poit, and
rect and equable sweetness of Parnell. Conscious volubility and vigour of Hall's numbers, we might
frequently imagine ourselves perusing Dryden
that his diction has not the freedom and volutility  This may n e exemplifiourselves  perusing Dryde picof the better strains of the elder time, I cannot but This may be exemplified in the harmony ard picremark his exemption from the quaintness and false turesquenessofthe following description of a magnifmetaphor which so often disfigure the style of the icent rural mansion, which the traveller approaches
preceding age; nor deny my respect to the select in the hopes of reaching the seat of ancient hospi
choice of his expression, the clearness and keeping  tality, but finds it deserted by its selfish owner.
of his imagery, and the pensive dignity of his moral Beat the broad gates, a goodly hollow sound,
feeling.                                        With double echoes, doth again rebound;
"Pope gave our heroic couplet its strictest me- But not a dog doth bark to welcome thee,
lody and tersest expression.                   Nor churlish porter canst thou chafing see.
D'un mot mis en sa place il enseigne le pouvoir.  All dumb and silent, like the dead of night
Or dwelling of some sleepy Sybarite;
If his contemporaries forgot other poets in admiring The marble pavement hid with desert weed,
him, let him not be robbed of his just fame on pre- With house-leek, thistle, dock, and hemlock seed.
tence that a part of it was superfluous.'I'he public  W    *  *  *    *           e *    e*
ear was long fatigued with repetitions of his manner; but if we place ourselves in the situation of Look to the tow'red chimnies, which should be
those to whom his brilliancy, succinctness and ani- The wind-pipes of good hospitality,
mation were wholly new, swe cannot wonder at Through which it breatheth to the open air,
their being captivated to the fondest admiration.-  Betokening life and liberal welfare,
In order to do justice to Pope, we should forget Lo, there th' unthankfiul swallow takes her rest,
his imitators, if' that were possible; but it is easier And fills the tunnel with her circled nest.
to remember than to forget by an effort-to acquire    "His satires are neither cramped by personal hosassociations than to shake them off. Every one tility, nor spun out to vague declamations on vice;
may recollect how often the most beautiful air has but give us the form and pressure of the times, expalled upon his ear. and grown insipid, from being  hibited in the faults of coeval literature, and in the
played or sung by vulgar musicians. It is the same foppery or sordid traits of'prevailing manners. The
thing with regard to Pope's versification. That his age was undoubtedly fertile in eccentricity."
peculiar rhythm and manner are the very best in                          Vol. ii. pp. 257, 258.
the whole range of our poetry need not be asserted.
He has a gracefully peculiar manner, though it is   What he says of Chamberlayn, and the ex.
not calculated to be an universal one; and where, tracts he has made from his Pharonnida, have
indeed, shall we find the style of poetry that could made us quite impatient for an opportunity of
be pronounced an exclusive model for every com-          the    ole 
poser?  His pauses have little variety, and his perusg
phrases are too much weighed in the balance of    The poetical merits of Ben Jonson  are
antithesis. But let us look to the spirit that points chiefly discussed in the Essay; and the No.
his antithesis, and to the rapid precision of his tice is principally biographical.  It is very
thoughts, and we shall forgive him for being too pleasingly written, though with an affectionate
antithetic and sententious."'-pp. 259-262.     leaning towards his hero. The following short
And to this is subjoined a long argument, to passage affords a fair specimen of the good
show that Mr. Bowles is mistaken in suppos-sense an good temper of all Mr. Campbell
ing that a poet should always draw his images apologies.
from the works of nature, and not from those    "The poet's journey to Scotland (1617) awakens
of art.  We have no room  at present for any  many pleasing recollections, when we conceive him
discussion of the question; but we do not anticipating'his welcome amongapeople whomight
think it is quite fairly stated in the passage to  be proud of a share in his ancestry, and setting out,
which we have referred; and confess that we  with manly strength, on a journey of four hundred
miles, on foot. We are assured, by one who saw
are rather inclined, on the whole, to adhere to  him in Scotland, that he was treated with respect
the creed of Mr. Bowles.                       and affection among the nobility and gentry; nor




294                                       POETRY.
was the romantic scenery of the country lost upon made his heir. It has been said, that this bequesl
his fancy. From the poem which he meditated on was in consequence of his finding the young man
Lochlomond, it is seen that he looked on it with a disposed to lend himn a sum of money at a time
poet's eye. But, unhappily, the meagre anecdotes when he thought proper to feign pecuniary distress,
of Drummond have made this event of his life too in order that he might discover the sincerity of
prominent, by the over-importance which has been  those calling themselves his friends. Thomas Daattached to them. Drummond, a smooth and sober vies, his biographer and editor, professes to have
gentleman, seems to have disliked Jonson's indul- got this anecdote from a surviving partner of Lillo.
gence in that conviviality which Ben had shared  It bears, however, an intrinsic air of improbability.
with his Fletcher and Shakespeare at the Mermaid. It is not usual for sensible tradesmen to affect beIn consequence of those anecdotes, Jonson's mem- ing on the verge of bankruptcy; and Lillo's charory has been damned for brutality, and Drum- acter was that of an uncommonly sensible man.
mond's for perfidy. Jonson drank freely at Haw- Fielding, his intimate friend, ascribes to him  a
thornden, and talked big-things neither incredible  manly simplicity of mind, that is extremely unlike
nor unpardonable. Drummond's perfidy amounted such a stratagem.
to writing a letter, beginning Sir, with one very    "Lillo is the tragic poet of middling and familiar
kind sentence in it, to the man whom he had de- life. Instead of heroes from romance and history,
scribed unfavourably in a private memorandum, he gives the merchant and his apprentice; and the
which he never meant for publication. As to Drum- Macbeth of his'Fatal Curiosity' is a private genmond's decoying Jonson under his roof Kwith any tleman, who has been reduced by his poverty to
premeditated design on his reputation, no one can  dispose of his copy of Seneca for a morsel of bread.
seriously believe it."-Vol. iii. pp. 150, 151.  The mind will be apt, after reading his works, to
suggest to itself the question, how far the graver
The notice of Cotton may be quoted, as a drama would gain or lose by a more general adop.
perfect model for such slight memorials of,tion of this plebeian principle.  The cares, it may
writers of the middle order.                    be said, that are most iamiliar to our existence, and
the distresses of those nearest to ourselves in situa"There is a careless and happy humour in this tion, ought to lay the strongest hold upon our sympoet's Voyage to Ireland, which seems to anticipate pathies; and the general mass of society ought to
the manner of Anstey, in the Bath Guide. The furnish a more express image of man than any detasteless indelicacy of his parody of the iEneid has tached or elevated portion of the species. But,
found but too many admirers. His imitations of notwithstanding the power of Lillo's works, we
Lucian betray the grossest misconception of humor- entirely miss in them that romantic attraction which
ous effect, when he attempts to burlesque that invites to repeated perusal of them. They give us
which is ludicrous already. He was acquainted  life in a close and dreadful semblance of realit,
with French and Italian; and among several works but not arrayed in the magic illusion of poetry. H is
from the former language, translated the Horace of strength lies in conception of situations, not in
Corneille, and Montaigne's Essays.              beauty of dialogue, or in the eloquence of the pas-' The father of Cotton is described by Lord Cla- sions. Yet the effect of his plain and homely subrendon as an accomplished and honourable man, jects was so strikingly superior to that of the vapid
who was driven by domestic afflictions to habits and heroic productions of the day, as to induce
which rendered his age less reverenced than his some of his contemporary admirers to pronounce,
youth, and made his best friends wish that he had  that he had reached the acme of dramatic excelnot lived so long. From him our poet inherited an  lence, and struck into the best and most genuine
incumbered estate, with a disposition to extrava. path of tragedy. George Barnwell, it was observed,
gance little calculated to improve it. After having  drew more tears than the rants of Alexander. This
studied at Cambridge, and returned from his travels might be true; but it did not bring the comparison
abroad, he married the daughter of Sir Thomas of humble and heroic subjects to a fair test; for the
Owthorp, in Nottinghamshire. He went to Ireland  tragedy of Alexander is bad, not from its subject,
as a captain in the army; but of his military pro- but from the incapacity of the poet who composed
gress nothing is recorded. Having embraced the it. It does not prove that heroes, drawn from hissoldier's life merely as a shift in distress, he was tory or romance, are not at least as susceptible of
not likely to pursue it with much ambition. It was high and poetical effect, as a wicked apprentice, or
probably in Ireland that he met with his second wife, a distressed gentleman pawning his moveables. It
Mary, Countess-Dowager of Ardglass, the widow  is a different question whether Lillo has given to his
of Lord Cornwall. She had a jointure of 15001. a subjects from private life, the degree of beauty of
year, secured from  his imprudent management. which they are susceptible. He is a master of terHe died insolvent, at Westminster. One of his rific, but not of tender impressions.  We feel a
favourite recreations was angling; and his house, harshness and gloom in his genius, even while we
which was situated on the Dove, a fine trout stream  are compelled to admire its force and originality.
which divides the counties of' Derby and Stafford,   " The peculiar choice of his subjects was, at all
was the frequent resort of his fiiend Isaac Walton. events, happy and commendable, as far as it reThere he built a fishing house,' Piscatoribus sa. garded himself; for his talents never succeeded so
crum,' with the initials of honest Isaac's name and  well when he ventured out of them. But it is
his own united in ciphers over the door. The walls another question, whether the familiar cast of those
were painted with fishing-scenes, and the portraits subjects was fitted to constitute a more genuine,
of Cotton and Walton were upon the beaufet.-  or only a subordinate walk in tragedy. Undoubtpp. 293, 294.   edly the genuine delineation of the human heart
There is a very beautiful and affectionate  will please us, from whatever station or circumThere is a very beautiful and affectionate  stances of life it is derived: and, in the simple
account of Parnell. —But there is more power pathos of tragedy, probably very little difference
of writing, and more depth and delicacy of  will be felt from the choice of characters being
feeling, in the following masterly account and  pitched above or below the line of mediocrity in
estimate of Lillo.                              station. But something more than pathos is required in tragedy; and the very pain that attends
" George Lillo, was the son of a Dutcheweller, our sympathy, would seem  to require agreeable
who married an Englishwoman, and settled in Lon-  and romantic associations of the fancy to be blended
don. Our poet was born near Moorfields, was bred  with its poignancy. Whatever attaches ideas of
to his father's business, and followed it for many  importance, publicity, and elevation to the object
years. The story of his dying in distress was a of pity, forms a brightening and alluring medium
fiction of Hammond, the poet; for he bequeathed a to the imagination. Athens herself, with all het
considerable property to his nephew, whom  he simplicity and democracy, delighted on the stage wt




CAMPBELL'S SPECIMENS OF THE POETS.                                   29s'Let gorgeous Tragedy            us by its unwieldy difference from the common cosIn scepter'd pall come sweeping by.'    tume of expression." —pp. 215-218.'Even situations far depressed beneah thefamil.    There is the same delicacy of taste, and
tar mediocrity of life, are'more picturesque and  beauty of writing, in the following remarks
poetical than its ordinary level. It is certainly on  on Collins-though we think the Specimens
the virtues of the middling rank of life, that the
strength and comforts of society chiefly depend, in afterwards given from this exquisite poet are
the same way as we look for the harvest, not on rather niggardly.
cliffs and precipices. but on the easy slope and the
uniform plain. But the painter does not in general   " Collins published his Oriental Eclogues while
fix on level countries for the subjects of his noblest at college, and his lyrical poetry at the age of
landscapes. There is an analogy, I conceive, to twenty-six. Those works will abide comparison
this  with whatever Milton wrote under the age of thirty.
f statios in give it bmoral paintingess of outlinedy. isparities co If they have rather less exuberant wealth of genuis,
of station give it boldness of outline. The com- the   ehii more exquisite   touches of pathos.
manding situations' of life are its mountain scenery they exhibit more exquisite touches of pathos.
-the region where its storm and sunshine may be Like Milton, he leads us into the haunted ground
portrayed in their strongest contrast and colouring."  of magination; l ike hith thought, which economy
Vol. v. pp. 58-62.   of expression haloed with thought, which by single
or few words often hints entire pictures to the imagi* Nothing, we think, can be more exquisite  nation. In what short and simple terms, for inthan  this criticism,-though we are far from  stance, does he open a wide and majestic landscape
being entire converts to its doctrines; and are  mnd or Snwden s   when  gh view f    Benlo
mond or Snowden-when he speaks of the hut
moreover of opinion, that the merits of Lillo,           That from some mountain's side
as a poet at least, are considerably overrated.           Views wilds and swelling floods.'
There is a flatness and a weakness in his dic- And in the line,' Where faint and sickly winds
tion, that we think must have struck Mr. C. for ever howl around,' he does not seem merely to
more than he has acknowledged,-and a tone, describe the sultry desert, but brings it home to the
occasionally, both of vulgarity and of paltry  senses.
affectation, that counteracts the pathetic effect   A  cloud of obscurity sometimes rests on his
of his conceptions, and does injustice to the  highest conceptions, arising from the fineness of his
experiment of domestic tragedy.                 associations, and the daring sweep of his illusions;
but the shadow is transitory, and interferes very
The critique on Thomson is distinguished  little with the light of his imagery, or the warmth
by the same fine tact, candour, and concise- of his feelings. The absence of even this speck of
ness.                                           mysticism from his Ode on the Passions is perhaps
the happy circumstance that secured its unbounded
"Habits of early admiration teach us all to look  popularity. Nothing, however, is common-place
back upon this poet as the favourite companion of in Collins. The pastoral eclogue, which is insipid
our solitary walks, and as the author who has first in all other English hands, assumes in his a touchor chiefly reflected back to our minds a heightened  ing interest, and a picturesque air of novelty. It
and refined sensation of the delight which rpral seems that he himself ultimately undervalued those
scenery affords us. The judgment of cooler years eclogues, as deficient in characteristic manners; but
may somewhat abate our estimation of him, though surely no just reader of them cares any more about
it will still leave Us the essential features of 1his this circumstance than about the authenticity of the
poetical character to abide the test of reflection. tale of Troy.
he unvaried pomp of his diction suggests a most   " In his Ode to Fear he hints at his dramatic
unfavourable comparison with the manly and idiom- ambition; and he planned several tragedies. Had
atic simplicity of Cowper: at the same time, the he lived to enjoy and adorn existence, it is not easy
pervading spirit and feeling of his poetry is in gene- to conceive his sensitive spirit and harmonious ear
ral more bland and delightful than that of his great descending to mediocrity in any path of poetry;
rival in rural description.  Thomson seems to con- yet it may be doubted if his mind had not a pastemplate the creation with an eye of unqualified  sion for the visionary and remote forms of imaginapleasure and ecstasy, and to love its inhabitants tion, too strong and exclusive for the general purwith a lofty and hallowed feeling of religious hap. poses of the drama. His genius loved to breathe
piness; Cowper has also his philanthropy, but it is rather in the preternatural and ideal element of
dashed with religious terrors, and with themes of poetry, than in the atmosphere of imitation, which
satire, regret, and reprehension. Cowper's image lies closest to real life; and his notions of poetical
of nature is more curiously distinct and familiar. excellence, whatever vows he might address to
Thomson carries our associations through a wider' the manners,' were still tending to the vast, the
circuit of speculation and sympathy. His touches undefinable, and the abstract.  Certainly, howcannot be more faithful than Cowper's, but they ever, he carried sensibility and tenderness into the
are more soft and select, and less disturbed by the highest regions of abstracted thought:  His enthuintrusion of homely objects. It is but justice to say, siasm spreads a glow even amongst'the shadowy
that amidst the feeling and fancy of the Seasons, tribes of mind,' and his allegory is as sensible to
we meet with interruptions of declamation, heavy  the heart as it is visible to the fancy." -pp. 310, 312.
narrative, and unhappy digression-with a parhelion
eloquence that throws a counterfeit glow of expres-    Though we are afraid our extracts are be- 
sion on common-place ideas-as when he treats us coming unreasonable, we cannot resist indulg-.
to the solemnly ridiculous bathing of Musidora; or ing our own nationality, by producing this
draws from the classics instead of nature; or, after specimen of M   Campbell
invoking inspiration from her hermit seat, makes his  pecimen o    r. ampbels.
dedicatory bow to a patronizing countess, or speaker   " The admirers of the Gentle Shepherd must
of the House of Commons. As long as he dwells perhaps be contented to share some suspicion of
in the pure contemplation of nature, and appeals to  national partiality, while they do justice to their
the universal poetry of the human breast, his re- own feeling of its merit. Yet as this drama is a
dundant style comes to us as something venial and  picture of rustic Scotland, it would perhaps be
adventitious-it is the flowing vesture of the druid; saying little for its fidelity, if it yielded no more
and perhaps to the general experience is rather im- agreeableness to the breast of a native than he could
posing; but when he returns to the familiar narra- expound to a stranger by the strict letter of criti.
tions or courtesies of life, the same diction ceases cism. We should think the painter had finished
to seem the mantle of inspiration, and only strikes the likeness of a mother very indifferently, if it




296                                       POETRY.
did not bring home to her children traits of unde- the flush of his gay hopes and busy projects ter
finable expression which had escaped every eye  minated in despair'. The particular causes whic;h
but thaL of familiar affection.  Ramsay had not the led to his catastrophe have not been distinctly
force of' Burns; but, neither, in just proportion to traced.  His own descriptions of his prospects
his merits, is he likely to be felt by an English  are but little to be trusted; for while apparently
reader.  The fire of Burns' wit and passion glows exchanging his shadowy visions of Rowley for the
through an obscure dialect by its confinement to real adventures of life, he was still moving under
short and concentrated bursts.''he interest which  the spell of art imagination that saw every thing in
Ramsay excites is spread over a long poem, deline- exaggerated colours.  Out of this dream  he was
ating manners more than passions, and.the mind  at length awakened, when he found that he had
must be at home both in the language and manners, miscalculated the chances of patronage and the
to appreciate the skill and colnic archness with which  profits of literary labour.
he has heightened the display of rustic, character   "'I'he heart which can peruse the fate of Chat.
without giving it vulgarity, and refined the view  terton without being moved, is little to be envied
of peasant life by situations of sweetness and ten- for its tranquillity; but the inte4lects of those men
derness, without departing in the least degree from  must be as deficient as their hearts are uncharitable,
its simplicity. The Gentle Shepherd stands quite  who, confounding all shades of moral distinction,
apart from  the general pastoral poetry of modern  have ranked his literary fiction of Rowley in the
Europe. It has no satyrs, nor featureless simple- same class of crimes with pecuniary forgery; and
tons, nor drowsy and still landscapes of nature, but have calculated that if he had not died by his own
distinct characters and amusing incidents.  The  hand he would have probably ended his days upon
principal shepherd never speaks out of consistency  a gallows!  This disgusting sentence has been
with the habits of a peasant; but he moves in that pronounced upon a youth who was exemplary for
sphere with such a manly spirit, with so much  severe study, temperance, and natural affection.
cheerful sensibility to its humble joys, with max- His Rowleian forgery must indeed be pronounced
ims of life so rational and independent, and with  improper by the general law which condemns all
an ascendency over his fellow swains so well main- serious and deliberate falsifications; but it deprived
tained by his force of character, that if we could  no man of his fame; it had no sacrilegious interfere
suppose the pacific scenes of the drama to be sud- ence with the memory of departed genius; it had
denly changed into situations of'trouble and danger, not, like Lauder's imposture, any malignant motive
we should. in exact consistency with our former to rob a party, or a country, of a name which was
idea of him, expect him  to become the leader of its pride and ornament.
the peasants, and the Tell of his native hamlet.   "Setting aside the opinion of those uncharitable
Nor is the character of his mistress less beautifillly  biographers, whose imaginations have conducted
conceived.  She is represented, like himself, as him to the gibbet, it may be owned that his unelevated, by a fortunate discovery, from obscure to  formed character exhibited strong and conflicting
opulent life, yet as equally capable of being the  elements of' good and evil. Even the momentary
ornament of either. A Richardson or a D'Arblay, project of the infidel boy to become a Methodist
had they continued her history, might have height- preacher, betrays an obliquity of design and a conened the portrait, but they would not have altered  tempt of human credulity that is not very amiable.
its outline.  Like the poetry of Tasso and Ariosto, But had he been spared, his pride and ambition
that of the Gentle Shepherd is engraven on the  would probably have come to flow in their proper
metnory, and has sunk into the heart, of' its native  channels. His understanding would have taught
conntry'. Its verses have passed into proverbs, and  him the practical value of truth and the dignity of
it continues to be the delight and solace of the  virtue, and hIe would have despised artifice, when
peasantry whom it describes." —pp. 344-346.      he had felt the strength and security of wisdom.
In estimating the promises of his genius, I would
We think the merits of Akenside under- rather lean to the utmost enthusiasm of his admnirrated, and those of Churchill exaggerated: ers, than to the cold opinion of those who are afraid
But we have found no passage in which the  of being blinded to the defects of the poems attribamiable but equitable and reasonable incdulg- uted to Rowley, by the veil of obsolete phraseology
ence of Mr. Campbell's min  is so conspi    which is thrown over them.
ence of Mr. Campbell's mind is so conspicu-    "..'he inequality of Chatterton's various proOus, as in his account of Chatterton-and it ductions may be compared to the disproportions of
is no slight thing for a poet to have kept him- the ungrown giant. His works had nothing of the
self cool and temperate, on a theme which  definite neatness of that precocious talent which
has hurried so many inferior spirits into pas- stops short in early maturity. His thirst for know.
ledge was that of a being taught by instinct to lay
up materials for the exercise of great and unde"When we conceive," says Mr. C., "the in- veloped powers. Even in his favourite maxim,
spired boy transporting himself in imagination back  pushed it might be to hyperbole, that a man by
to the daysof his fictitious Rowley, embodying his abstinence and perseverance might accomplish
ideal character, and giving to airy nothing a' local whatever he pleased, may be traced the indications
habitation and a name,' we may forget the im- of a genius which nature had meant to achieve works
postor in the enthusiast, and forgive the falsehood  of immortality. Tasso alone can be compared to him
of his reverie for its beauty and ingenuity.  One  as a juvenile prodigy. No English poet ever equal*of his companions has described the air of rapture  led him at the same age."-Vol. vi. pp. 15& —162.
and inspiration with which he used to repeat his
passages from  Rowley, and the delight which he    The account of Gray is excellent, and that
took to contemplate the church of St. Mary Red- of Goldsmith delightful.  We can afford to
cliffe, while it awoke the associations of antiquity  give but an inconsiderable part of it.
in his romantic mind. There was one spot in
particular, full in view of' the church, where he    "Goldsmith's poetry enjoys a calm  and steady
would often lay himself down, and fix his eyes, as popularity. It inspires us, indeed, with no admira.:- were, in a trance.  On Sundays, as long as day. tion of daring design, or of fertile invention; but it
light lasted, he would walk alone in the country  presents, within its narrow limits, a distinct and unaround Bristol, taking drawings of churches, or broken view of poetical delightfulness. His descrip.
other objects that struck his imagination.       tions and sentiments have the pure zest of nature.
" During the few months of his existence in He is refined without false delicacy, and correct
London, his letters to his mother and sister, which  without insipidity. Perhaps there is an intellectual,were always accompanied with presents, expressed  composure in his manner, which may, in some pas.
ahe most joyous anticipations.  But suddenly ail (sages, be said to approach to the reserved and pro.




CAMPBELL'S SPECIMENS OF THE POETS.                                  297
saic; but he unbends from  this graver strain of certain tone of exaggeration is incident, we
reflection, to tenderness, and even to playfulness, fear, to the sort of writing in which we are
with an ease and grace almost exclusively his own: engaged   Re
and connects extensive views of the happiness and    a.    ckoning a little too much,  per
interests of' society, with pictures of life, that touch haps on the dulness of our readers, ve are
the heart by their familiarity. His language is cer- often  led, unconsciously, to overstate ocl,ainly simple, though it is not cast in a rugged or sentiments, in order to make them  undercareless mould. He is no disciple of the gaunt and  stood;  and. where  a  little  controversial
famished school of simplicity. Deliberately as he warmth is added to a little love of effect,
wrote, he cannot be accused of wanting natural and an excess of colouring is apt to steal over
idiomatic expression; but still it is select and refined expression. He uses the ornaments which  the  canvass which  ultimately  offends no
must always distinguish true poetry from  prose; eye so much as our own. We gladly make
and when he adopts colloquial plainness, it is with this expiation to the shade of our illustrious
the utmost care and 9sill, to avoid a vulgar humility. countryman.
There is more of tnis elegant simplicity, of this   In his observations on Joseph Warton, Mr.
chaste economy and choice of words, in Goldsmith, C. resumes the controversy  bout the poetical
than in any modern poet, or perhaps than would be
attainable or desirable as a standard for every writer character of Pope, upon which he had entered
of rhyme. In extensive narrative poems'such a at the close of his Essay; and as to which
style would be too difficult. There is a noble pro- we hope to have some other opportunity of
priety even in the careless strength of great poems giving our opinions. At present, however, we
as in the roughness of castle walls; and, generally must hasten to a conclusion; and shall make
speaking, where there is a long course of story, or our last extracts from the notice of Cowper,
observation of life to be pursued, such exquisite
touches as those of Goldsmith would be too costly which is drawn up on somewhat of a larger
materials for sustaining it. T'I'he tendency towards scale than any other in the work.  The ababstracted observation in his poetry agrees peculiarly  stract of his life is given with great tenderness
with the compendious form of expression which he and beauty, and with considerable fulness of
studied; whilst the homefelt joys, on which his detail. But the remarks on his poetry are the
fancy loved to repose, required at once the chastest
and sweetest colours of language, to make them  most precious,-and are allthat we  have now
harmonize with the dignityof a philosophical poem. room to borrow.
His whole manner has a still depth of feeling and
reflection, which gives back the image of nature    "The  nature of Cowper's works makes us
unruffled and minutely. He has no redundantify the poet and the man in perusing
them. As an individual, he was retired and wheaned
thoughts, or false transports; but seems on every            s of the world;As  and, as an oweginal
occasion to have weighed the impulse to which he
surrendered himself. whatever ardour or casual writer, he left the ambitious and luxuriant subjects
felicities he may have thus sacrificed, he gained a of fiction and passion, for those of real life and simhigh degree of purity and self-possession. His ple'nature, and for the development of his own
chaste pathos makes him an irnsinuatin  moralist  earnest feelings, in behalf of moralist and religious
truth. His language has such a masculine idiom.
and throws a charm of Claude-like softness over his truth.  His language has such a masculine idiomdescriptions of homely objects, that would seem atic strength, and his manner, whether e rises
only fit to be the subjects of Dutch painting. But into grace or falls into negligence, has so much
his quiet enthusiasm leads the affections to humble plain atid familiar freedom, that we read no poetry
things without a v:!gar association; and he inspires With a deeper conviction of its sentiments having
us with a fondness to trace the simplest recollections come from the author's heart; and of the enthuof Auburn, till we count the furniture of its ale- siasm, in whatever he describes, having been unhouse, and listen to the'varnished  clock that feigned and unexaggerated. He ipressesus with
clicked behind tlb''loor.' "-pp. 261-263.     the idea of a being, whose fine spirit had been long
enough in the mixed society of the world to be
There is too much of William Whitehead,  polished by its intercourse, and yet withdrawn so
soon as to retain an unworldly degree of purity and
and almost too much of Richard Glover, —and  simplicity. He was advanced in years before he
a great deal too much of Amhurst Selden, became an author; but his compositions display a
Bramston, and Meston.  Indeed the ne quid  tenderness of feeling so youthfully preserved, and
tlimis seems to have been more forgotten by  even a vein of humour so far from being extinguished
the learned editor in the last, than in any of by his ascetic habits, that we can scarcely regret his
the other volumes.  Yet there is by no means not having written them at an earlier period of life.
the other volumes. Yet there is by no means For he blends the determination of age with an
too much of Burns, or Cowper, or even of the  exquisite and ingenuous sensibility; and though he
VWartons. The abstract of Burns' life is beau- sports very much with his subjects, yet, when he is
tiful; and we are most willing to acknowledge  in earnest, there is a gravity of long-felt conviction
that the defence of the poet, against some of in his sentiments, which gives an uncommon nipe.
the severities of this Journal, is substantially  ness of character to his poetry.
s es o  h ora s  all that A e    "It is due to Cowper to fix our regard on this
vsuccesful.  No one wA~ho  read  crl  tha ~e unaffectedness and authenticity of his works, conhave written of Burns, will doubt of the sin- sidered as representations of himself, because he
cerity of our admiration for his genius, or of forms a striking instance of genius writing the his.
the depth of our veneration and sympathy for tory of its own secluded feelings, reflections, and
his lofty character and his untimely fate. enjoyments, in a shape so interesting as to engage
We still think he had a vulgar taste in letter- the imagination like a work of fiction.  He has invented no character in fable, nor in the drama; but
writing; and too frequently patronized the  he has left a record of his own character, whirh
belief of a connection between licentious in- forms not only an object of deep sympathy, but a
dulgences arid generosity of character.  But, sub;ct fcr the study of human nature. His verse
on looking back on what we have said on  it is true, conrsidered as such a record, abounds with
these subjects, we are sensible that we have  opposite traits of severity and gentleness, of play.
expressed ourselves with too much bitter — fulness and superstition, of solemnity and mirth,
which appear almost anomalous; and there s, unness.; and made the words of our censure far doubtedly, sometimes an air of moody versatility in
more comprehensive than our meaning.  A  the extreme contrasts of his feelings. But looking




29,8                                     POETRY.
to his poetry as an entire structure, it has a massive beauties of creation; but it gives h:is taste a conair of sincerity. It is founded in steadfast princi- tentment and fellowship with humble things. It
ples of belief; and, if we may prolong the archi- makes him careless of selecting and refining his
tectural metaphor, though its arches may be some- views of nature beyond their actual appearances.
times gloomy, its tracery sportive, and its lights and  He contemplated the face of plain rural English
shadows grotesquely crossed, yet altogether it still life, in moments of leisure and sensibility, till its
forms a vast, various, and interesting monument of minutest features were impressed upon his fancy;
the builder's mind. Young's works are as devout, and he sought not to embellish what he loved.
as satirical, sometimes as merry, as those of Cow. Hence his landscapes have less of the ideally beauper; and, undoubtedly, more witty. But the melan- tiful than Thomson's; but they have an unrivalled
choly and wit of Young do not make up to us the charm of truth and reality.
idea of a conceivable or natural being. He has   "He is one of the few poets, who have indulged
sketched in his pages the ingenious, but incongruous neither in descriptions nor acknowledgments of
form of a fictitious mind —Cowper's soul speaks the passion of love; but there is no poet who has
from his volumes."                             given us a finer conception of the amenity of
" Considering the tenor and circumstances of his female influence. Of all the verses that have been
life, it is not much to be wondered at, that some ever devoted to the subject of domestic happiness,
asperities and peculiarities should have adhered to the those in his winter evening, at the opening of the
strong stem of his genius, like the moss and fungus fourth book of The Task, are perhaps the most
that cling to some noble oak of the forest, amidst the beautiful. In perusing that scene of' intimate dedamps of its unsunned retirement. It is more sur-. lights,''fireside enjoyments,' and'home-born
prising that he preserved, in such seclusion, so much happiness,' we seem to recover a part of the forgenuine power of comic observation. There is much gotten value of existence; when we recognise the
of the full distinctness of Theophrastus, and of the means of its blessedness so widely dispensed, and
nervous and concise spirit of La Bruyere, in his so cheaply attainable, and find them susceptible
piece entitled' Conversation,' with a cast of humour of description at once so enchanting and so faithful.
superadded, which is peculiarly English, and not to   " Though the scenes of The'Task are laid in
be found out of England."-Vol. vii. pp. 357, 358. retirement, the poem affords an amusing perspective of human affairs. Remote as the poet was
Of his greatest work, The Task, he after- from the stir of the great Babel, from the'conwards observes,                                fuse son8us Urbis, et illetabile murmur,' he glances
at most of the subjects of public interest which
" His whimsical outset in a work, where he engaged the attention of his contemporaries. On
promises so little and performs so much, may be those subjects, it is but faint praise to say that he
advantageously contrasted with those magnificent espoused the side of justice and humanity. Abundcommencement of poems, which pledge both the ance of mediocrity of talent is to be found on the
reader and the writer, in good earnest, to a task. same side, rather injuring than promoting the
Cowper's poem, on the contrary, is like a river, caue, by its officious declamation. But nothing
which rises from a playful little fountain, and can be further from the  stale commonplace and
gathers beauty and magnitude as it proceeds. He cuckooism   of sentiment, than the philanthropia
leads us abroad into his daily walks; he exhibits eloquence of Cowper —he speaks'like one having
the landscapes which he was accustomed to con- authority.' Society is his debtor. Poetical expo.
template, and  the  trains of thought in which he sitions of the horrors of slavery may, indeed, seen
habitually indulged. No attempt is made to in- very unlikely agents in contributing to destroy it;
terest us in legendary fictions, or historical recol- and it is possible that the most refined planter in
lections connected with the ground over which he the West Indies, may look with neither shame
expatiates; all is plainness and reality: But we nor compunction on his own image in the pages
instantly recognise the true poet, in the clearness, of Cowper. But such appeals to the heart of the
sweetness, and fidelity of his scenic draughts; in community are not lost!  They fix themselves
his power of giving novelty to what is common; silently in the popular memory; and they become,
and in the high relish, the exquisite enjoyment of at last, a part of that public opinion, which must,
rural sights and sounds, which he communicates sooner or later, wrench the lash from the hand of
to the spirit.' His eyes drink the rivers with de- the oppressor." —pp. 359-364.
light.' He excites an idea, that almost amounts to
sensation, of the freshness and delight of a rural   But we must now break away at once from
walk, even when he leads us to, the wasteful cornm- this delightful occupation; and take our final
mon, which                                     farewell of a work, in which, what is original,' Overgrown with fern, and rough      is scarcely less valuable than what is repubWith prickly gorse, that, shapeless and deform'd, lished, and in which the genius of a living
And dang'rous to the touch, has yet its bloom,    Poet has shed a fresh grace over the fading
And decks itself with ornaments of gold,       glories of so many of his departed brothers.
Yields no unpleasing ramble. There the turf    We wish somebody would continue the work
Smells fresh, and, rich in odorif'rous herbs
And fungous fruits of earth, regales the sense  by furnishing us with Specimens of our Living
With luxuries of unexpected sweets.'           Poets.  It would be more difficult, to be sure,
" His rural prospects have far less variety and and more dangerous; but, in some respects,
compass than those of Thomson; but his graphic it would also be more useful.  The beauties
touches are more close and minute: not that of the unequal and voluminous writers would
Thomson was either deficient or undelightful in be more conspicuous in a selection; and the
circumstantial traits of the beauty of nature, but different styles and schools of poetry would
he looked to her as a whole more than Cowper. be brought into fairer and nearer terms of
His genius was more excursive and philosophical.
The poet of Olney, on the contrary, regarded comparson. bythemere juxtapositionof thei
human philosophy with something of theological best productions; while a better and clearer
contempt. To his eye, the great and little things view would be obtained, both of the general
of this world were levelled into an equality, by his progress and apparent tendencies of the art,
recollection of the power and purposes of Him  than can easily be gathered from the separate
who made them. *They are, in his view, only as study of each important production.  The
toys spread on the lap and carpet of nature, for     of the critic too would be at once enthis childhood of our immortal being. This reli- miof the criti  to would be at once engious indi.ference to the world is far, indeed, from lightened and tranquillized by the very groatblunting his sensibility to the genuine and simple ness of the horizon thus subjected to nis




FORD'S DRAMATIC WORKS.                             299
survey; and he would probably regard, both subject him to the most furious imputations
with less enthusiasm and less offence, those of unfairness and malignity.  In point of
contrasted and compensating beauties and courage and candour, we do not know any.
defects, when presented together, and as it body who would do it much better than
were in combination, than he can ever do ourselves!   And if Mr. Campbell could
when they come upon him in distinct masses, only impart to us a fair share of his eleana without the relief and softening of so va- gance, his fine perceptions, and his conried an assemblage. On the other hand, it ciseness, we should like nothing better than
cannot be dissembled, that such- a work would to suspend, for a while, these periodical lube very trying to the unhappy editor's pro- cubrations, and furnish out a gallery of Livphetic reputation, as well as to his imparti- ing Bards, to match this exhibition of the
ality and temper; and would, at all events, Departed.
(g8u8st, 1811.)
The Dramatic Works of JOHN FORD; with an Introduction and Explanatory Notes. By HENr.
WEBER, Esq. 2 vols. 8vo. pp. 950. Edinburgh and London: 1811.
ALL true lovers of English poetry have -and Napier, and Milton, and Cudworth
been long in love with the dramatists of and Hobbes, and many others; —men, all o0
the time of Elizabeth -and James; and them, not merely of great talents and acmust have been sensibly comforted by their complishments, but of vast compass and
late restoration to some degree of favour reach of understanding, and of minds truly
and notoriety. If there was any good rea- creative and original — not perfecting art by
son, indeed, to believe that the notice which the delicacy of their taste, or digesting knowthey have recently attracted proceeded from  ledge by the justness of their reasonings; but
any thing but that indiscriminate rage for making vast and substantial additions to the
editing and annotating by which the present materials upon which taste and reason must
times are so happily distinguished, we should hereafter be employed,-and enlarging, to an
be disposed to hail it as the most unequivocal incredible and unparalleled extent, both the
symptom of improvement in public taste that stores and the resources of the human facul
has yet occurred to reward and animate our ties.
labours. At all events, however, it gives us   Whether the brisk concussion which was
a chance for such an improvement; by placing given to men's minds by' the force of the
in the hands of many, who would not other- Reformation had much effect in producing
wise have heard of them. some of those beau- this sudden development of British genius,
tiful performances which we have always we cannot undertake to determine. For our
regarded as among the most pleasing and own part. we shouldbbe rather inclined to
characteristic productions of our native genius. hold, that the Reformation itself was but one
Ford certainly is not the best of those ne- symptom or effect of that great spirit of pro.
glected writers, —nor Mr. Weber by any means gression and improvement which had been
the best of their recent editors: But we cannot set in operation by deeper and more genera]
resist the opportunity which this publication causes; and which afterwards blossomed out
seems to afford, of saying a word or two of a into this splendid harvest of authorship. But
class of writers, whom we have long wor- whatever may have been the causes that
shipped in secret with a sort of idolatrous determined the appearance of those great
veneration, and now find once more brought works, the fact is certain, not only that they
forward as candidates for public applause. appeared together in great numbers, but that
The era to which they belong, indeed, has they possessed a common character, which,
always appeared to us by far the brightest in in spite of the great diversity of their subthe history of English literature,-or indeed jects and designs, would have made them be
of human intellect and capacity.  There classed together as the works of the same
never was, any where, any thing like the order or description of men, even if they had
sixty or seventy years that elapsed from the appeared at the most distant intervals of
middle of Elizabeth's reign to the period of time.  They are the works of Giants, in
the Restoration. In point of real force and short, —and of Giants of one nation and
originality of genius, neither the age of Peri- family;-and their characteristics are, great
cles, nor the age of Augustus, nor the times force. boldness. and originality; together with
of Leo X., nor of Louis XIV., can come at all a certain raciness of English peculiarity,
into comparison: For, in that short period. which distinguishes them from all those per.
we shall find the names of almost all the formances that have since been produced
very great men that this nation has ever among ourselves, upon a more vague and
produced,-the names of Shakespeare, and general idea of European excellence. Their
Bacon, and  Spenser, and  Sydney, —and sudden appearance, indeed, in all this splen.
HIooker: and Taylor, and Barrow, and Raleigh, dour of native luxuriance, can only be ccm




S3O                                  POETRY.
pared to what happens onil the breaking up of forth upon every occasion, and by which they
a virgin soil -where all the indigenous plants illuminated and adorned the darkest and most
spring up at once with a rank and irrepressi- rugged topics to which they had happened to
ble fertility, and display whatever is peculiar turn themselves, is such as has never been
or excellent in their nature, on a scale the equalled in any other age or country; and
most conspicuous and magnificent. The crops places them  at least as high, in point of
are not indeed so clean, as where a more fancy and imagination. as of force of reason,
exhausted mould has been stimulated by or comprehensiveness of understanding.  In
systematic cultivation; nor so profitable, as this highest and most comprehensive sense
where their quality has been varied by a of the word, a great proportion of the writers
judicious admixture of exotics, and accom- we have alluded to were Poets: and, without
modated to the demands of the universe by going to those who composed in metre, and
the combinations of an unlimited trade. But chiefly for purposes of delight, we will vento those whose chief object of admiration is ture to assert, that there is in any one of the
the living power and energy of vegetation, prose folios of Jeremy Taylor more fine fancy
and who take delight in contemplating the and original imagery-more brilliant concepvarious forms of her unforced and natural tions and -glowing expressions —more new
perfection, no spectacle can be more rich, figures, and new applications of old figulressplendid, or attractive.                  more, in short, of the body and the soul of
In the times of which we are speaking, poetry, than in all the odes and the epics that
classical learning, though it had made great have since been produced in Europe. There
progress, had by no means become an exclu- are large portions of Barrow, and of Hooker
sive study; and the ancients had not yet' and Bacon, of which we may say nearly as
been permitted to subdue men's minds to a much: nor can any one have a tolerably adesense of hopeless inferiority, or to condemn quate idea of the riches of our language and
the moderns to the lot of humble imitators. our native genius; who has not made himself
They were resortedto, rather to furnish ma- acquainted with the prose writers, as well as
terials and occasional ornaments, than as the poets, of this memorable period.
models for the general style of composition;   The civil wars, and the fanaticism by which
and, while they enriched the imagination, and they were fostered, checked all this fine bloom
insensibly improved the taste of their sue- of the imagination, and gave a different and
Lessors, they did not at all restrain their free- less attractive character to the energies which
dom, or impair their originality. No common they could not extinguish. Yet, those were
standard had yet been erected, to which all the times that matured and drew forth the
the works of European genius were required dark, but powerful genius of such men as
to conform; and no general authority was Cromwell, and Harrison, and Fleetwood, &c.
acknowledged, by which all private or local -the milder and more generous enthusiasm
ideas of excellence must submit to be cor- of Blake, and Hutchison, and Hampdenrected. Both readers and authors were com- and the stirring and indefatigable spirit of
paratively few in number. The former were Pym, and Hollis, and Vane-and the chivalinfinitely less critical and difficult than they rous and accomplished loyalty of Strafford and
have since become; and the latter, if they Falkland; at the same time that they stimuwere not less solicitous about fame. were at lated and repaid the severer studies of Coke,
ieast much less jealous and timid as to the and Selden, and Milton. The Drama, howhazards which attended its pursuit.  Men, ever, was entirely destoyed, and has never
indeed, seldom took to writing in those days, since regained its honours; and Poetry, in
unless they had a great deal of matter to general, lost its ease, and its majesty and
communicate; and neither imagined that force, along with its copiousness and origithey could make a reputation by delivering nality.
commonplaces in an elegant manner, or that   The Restoration made things still worse:
the substantial value of their sentiments for it broke down the? barriers of our literary
would be disregarded for a little rudeness or independence, and reduced us to a province
negligence in the finishing.  They  were of the great republic of Europe. The genius
habituated, therefore, both to depend upon and fancy which lingered through the usurtheir own resources, and to draw upon them  pation, though soured and blighted by the
without fear or anxiety; and followed the severities of that inclement season, were still
dictates of their own taste and judgment, genuine English genius and fancy; and
without standing much in awe of the ancients, owned no allegiance to any foreign authoriof their readers, or of each other.       ties. But the Restoration brought in a French
The achievements of Bacon, and those who taste upon us, and what was called a classical
set free our understandings from the shackles and a polite taste; and the wings of our Engof Papal and of tyrannical imposition, afford lish Muses were clipped and trimmed, and
sufficient evidence of the benefit which re- their flights regulated at the expense of all
sulted to the reasoning faculties from this that was peculiar, and much of what was
happy independence of the first great wri- brightest in their beauty. The King and his
ters of this nation. But its advantages were, courtiers, during their long exile, had of course
if possible. still more conspicuous in themere imbibed the taste of their protectors; and,
literary character of their productions. The coming from the gay court of France, with
quantity of bright thoughts, of original images, something'of that additional profligacy that
nud splendid expressions, which they poured belonged to their outcast and advelturez




FORD'S DRAMATIC WORKS.                             301
character, were likely enough to be revolted fashionable style of writing, and actually feel
by the peculiarities, and by the very excel- ashamed of their own richer and more varied
Lences, of our native literature. The grand productions.
and sublime tone of our greater poets, ap-   It would greatly exceed our limits to depeared to them dull, morose, and gloomy; scribe accurately the particulars in which
and the fine play of their rich and unre- this new Continental style differed from our
strained fancy, mere childishness and folly: old insular one: But, for our present purpose,
while their frequent lapses and perpetual ir- it may be enough perhaps to say, that it was
regularity were set down as clear indications more worldly, and more townish,-holding
of barbarity and ignorance. Such sentiments, more of reason, and ridicule and authority —
too, were natural: we must admit, for a few  more elaborate and more assuming-addressdissipated and witty men, accustomed all ed more to the judgment than to the feelings,
their days to the regulated splendour of a and somewhat ostentatiously accommodated
court-to the gay and heartless gallantry of to the habits, or supposed habits, of persons
French manners —and to the imposing pomp in fashionable life. Instead of tenderness and
and brilliant regularity of French poetry. fancy, we had satire and sophistry-artificial
But, it may appear somewhat more unac- declamation, in place of the spontaneous anicountable that they should have been able to mation of genius-and for the universal lanimpose their sentiments upon the great body guage of Shakespeare, the personalities, the
of the nation. A court, indeed, never has so party politics, and the brutal obscenities of
much influence as at the moment of a resto- Dryden. Nothing, indeed, can better characration: but the influence of an English court terize the change which had taken place in
has been but rarely- discernible in the litera- our national taste, than the alterations and
ture of the country; and had it not been for additions which this eminent person presumed
the peculiar circumstances in which the nation -and thought it necessary-to make on the
was then placed, we believe it would have productions of Shakespeare and Milton. The
resisted this attempt to naturalise foreign no- heaviness, the coarseness, and the bombast
tions, as sturdily as it was done on almost of that abominable travesties in which he has
every other occasion.                    exhibited the Paradise Lost in the form of an
At this particular moment, however, the opera, and the atrocious indelicacy and comnative literature of the country had been sunk passionable stupidity of the new characters
into a very low and feeble state by the rigours with which he has polluted the enchanted
of the usurpation, —the best of its recent solitude of Miranda and Prospero in the
models laboured under the reproach of re- Tempest, are such instances ot degeneracy
publicanism,-and the courtiers were not only as we would be apt to impute ranher to some
disposed to see all its peculiarities with an transient hallucination in the author himself,
eye of scorn and aversion, but had even a than to the general prevalence- of any sysgood deal to say in favour of that very oppo- tematic bad taste in the public, did we not
site style to which they had been habituated. know that Wycherly and his coadjutors were
It was a witty, and a grand, and a splendid in the habit of converting the neglected dramas
style. It showed more scholarship and art, of Beaumont and Fletcher into popular plays,
than the luxuriant negligence of the old merely by leaving out all the romantic sweetEnglish school; and was not only free from  ness of their characters-turning their melomany of its hazards and some of its faults, dious blank verse into vulgar prose —and
but possessed merits of its own, of a charac- aggravating the indelicacy of their lower
ter more likely to please those who had then characters, by lending a more disgusting
the power of conferring celebrity, or con- indecency to the whole dramatis personce.
demning to derision. Then it was a style   Dryden was, beyond all comparison. the
which it was peculiarly easy to justify by greatest poet of his own day; and, endued
argument; and in support of which great as he was with a vigorous and discursive
authorities, as well as imposing reasons, were imagination, and possessing a mastery over
always ready to be produced. It came upon his language which no later writer has atus with the air and the pretension of being the tained, if he had known nothing of foreign
style of cultivated Europe, and a true copy literature, and been left to form himself on
of the style of polished antiquity. England,  the models of Shakespeare, Spenser, and
on the other hand, had had but little inter- Milton; or if he had lived in the country,
cc:urse with the rest of the world for a con- at a distance from the pollutions of courts,
siderable period of time: Her language was factions, and playhouses, there is reason to
not at all studied on the Continent, and her think that he would have built up the pure
native authors had not been taken into account and original school of English poetry so firmly,
in forming those ideal standards of excellence as to have made it impossible for fashion, or
which had been recently constructed in France caprice, or prejudice of any sort, ever to have
and Italy upon the authority of the Roman rendered any other popular among our own
classics, and of their own most celebrated inhabitants. As it is, he has not written one
writers. When the comparison came to be line that is pathetic, and very few that can
made, therefore, it is easy to imagine that it be considered as sublime.
should generally be thought to be very much   Addison, however, was the consummation
to our disadvantage, and to understand how  of this Continental style; and if it had nc:
the great multitude, even among ourselves. been redeemed about the same time by the
should be dazzled with the pretensions of the fine talents of Pope, would probably have so




302                                 POETRY.
far discredited it, as to have brought us back tidious, a much deeper and more heartfelt
to our original faith half a century ago. The admiration.
extreme caution, timidity, and flatness of this   Young exhibits, we think, a curious com.
author in his poetical compositions-the nar- bination, or contrast rather, of the two styles
rowness of his range in poetical sentiment of which we have been speaking. Though
and diction, and the utter want either of pas- incapable either of tenderness or passion, he
sion or of brilliancy, render it difficult to be- had a richness and activity of fancy that be.
lieve that he was born under the same sun longed rather to the days of James and Eliza.
with Shakespeare, and wrote but a century beth, than to those of George and Anne:after him. His falhe, at thie day stands solely But then, instead of indulging it, is the older
upon the delicacy, the modest gaiety, and in- writers would have done, in easy and playful
genious purity of his prose style;-for the inventions, in splendid descriptions, or glowoccasional elegance and small ingenuity of ing illustrations,. he was led, by the restraints
his poems can never redeem  the poverty and established taste of his age, to work it up
of their diction, and the tameness of their into strange and fantastical epigrams, or into
conception.  Pope has incomparably more cold and revolting hyperboles.  Instead of
spirit and taste and animation: but Pope is a letting it flow gracefully on, in an easy and
satirist, and a moralist. and a wit, and a critic, sparkling current, he perpetually forces it out
and a fine writer, much more than he is a in jets, or makes it stagnate in formal canals;
poet. He has all the delicacies and proprie- and thinking it necessary to write like Pope,
ties and felicities of diction-but he has not a when the bent of his genius led him rather
great deal of fancy, and scarcely ever touches to copy what was best in Cowley and most
any of the greater passions. He is much the fantastic in Shakespeare, he has produced
best, we think, of the classical Continental something which excites wonder instead of
school; but he is not to be compared with the admiration, and is felt by every one to be at
masters —nor with the pupils-of that Old once ingenious, incongruous, and unnatural.
English one from which there had been so   After Young, there was a plentiful lack of
lamentable an apostacy. There are no pic- poetical talent. down to aperiod comparatively
tures of nature or of simple emotion in all his recent. Akenside and Gray, indeed, in the
writings. He is the poet of town life, and of interval, discovered a new way of imitating
high life, and of literary life; and seems so the ancients; —and Collins and Goldsmith promuch afraid of incurring ridicule by the dis- duced some small specimens of exquisite and
play of natural feeling or unregulated fancy, original poetry. At last, Cowper threw off the
that it is difficult not to imagine that he would whole trammels of French criticism and artihave thought such ridicule very well directed. ficial refinement; and, setting at defiance all
The best of what we copied from the Con- the imaginary requisites of poetical diction
tinental poets, on this desertion of our own and classical imagery-dignity of style, and
great originals, is to be found, perhaps, in the politeness of phraseology-ventured to write
lighter pieces of Prior. That tone of polite again with the force and the freedom which
raillery-that airy, rapid, picturesque narra- had characterised the old school of English
tive, mixed up with wit and naivet —that literature, and been so unhappily sacrificed,
style. in short, of good conversation concentra- upwards of a century before. Cowper had
ted into flowing and polished verses, was not many faults, and some radical deficiencies;
within the vein of our native poets; and prob- -but this atojned for all. There was someably never would have been known among thing so delightfully refreshing, in seeing
us, if we had been left to our own resources. natural phrases and natural images again disIt is lamentable that this, which alone was playing their unforced graces, and waving
worth borrowing, is the only thing which has their unpruned heads in the enchanted gar-'ot been retained. The tales and little apol- dens of poetry. that no one complained of the
ogues of Prior are still the only examples of taste displayed in the selection;-and Cowthis style in our language.               per is. and is- likely to continue, the most
With the wits of Queen Anne this foreign popular of all who have written for the present
school attained the summit of its reputation; or the last generation.
and has ever since, we think. been declining,   Of the poets who have come after him, we
though by slow and almost imperceptible cannot, indeed, say that they have attached
gradations. Thomson was the first writer of themselves to the school of Pope and Addiany eminence who seceded from it, and made son; or that they have even failed to show a
some steps back to the force and animation much stronger predilection for the native beauof our original poetry. Thomson, however, ties of their great predecessors.  Southey,
was educated in Scotland, where the new  and Wordsworth, and Coleridge. and Miss
style, we believe, had not yet become famil- Baillie, have all of them copied the manner
iar; and lived, for a long time, a retired and of our older poets; and, along with this indiunambitious life, with very little intercourse cation of good taste, have given great proofs
with those who gave the tone in literature at of original genius. The misfortune is, that
the period of his first appearance. Thomson, their copies of those great originals are liable
accordingly, has always been popular with a to the charge of extreme affectation. They
much wider circle of readers, than either do not write as those great poets would have
Pope or Addison; and, in spite of consid- written: they merely mimic theirmanner, and
erable vulgarity and  signal cumbrousness ape their peculiarities; —and consequently
of diction, has drawn, even from  the fas- though they profess to imitate the freest and




FORD'S DRAMATIC WORKS.                               303
most careless of all versifiers, their style is occur in his performances, and must to all
more remarkably and offensively artificial impartial judges appear quite absurd and
than that of any other class of writers. They unnatural. Before entering upon the charac.
have mixed in, too, so much of the mawkish ter of a contemporary dramatist, it was of
tone of pastoral innocence and babyish sim- some importance, therefore, to show that
plicity, with a sort of pedantic emphasis and there was a distinct, original, and independent
ostentatious glitter, that it is difficult not to school of literature in England in the time of
be disgusted with their perversity, and with Shakespeare; to the general tone.of whose
the solemn self-complacency, and keen and productions his works were sufficiently convindictive jealousy, with which they have put formable; and that it was owing to clrcumin their claims on public admiration. But we stances in a great measure accidental, that this
have said enough elsewhere of the faults of native school was superseded about the time
those authors; and shall only add, at present, of the Restoration, and a foreign standard of exthat, notwithstanding all these faults, there is cellence intruded on us, not in the drama only,
a fertility and a force, a warmth of feeling but in every other department of poetry. This
and an exaltation of imagination about them, new style of composition, however, though
which classes them, in our estimation, with adorned and recommended by the splendid
a much higher order of poets than the fol- talents of many of its followers2 was never
lowers of Dryden and Addison; and justifies perfectly naturalised, we think, m this counan anxiety for their fame, in all the admirers try; and has ceased, in a great measure, to
of Milton and Shakespeare.                be cultivated by those who have lately aimed
Of Scott, or of Campbell, we need scarcely with the greatest success at the higher honsay any thing, with reference to our present ours of poetry. Our love of Shakespeare
object, after the very copious accounts we therefore, is not a monomania or solitary and
have given of them on former occasions. The unaccountable infatuation; but is merely the
former professes to copy something a good natural love which all men bear to those forms
deal older than what we consider as the golden of excellence that are accommodated to their
age of English poetry, —and, in reality, has peculiar character, temperament, and situacopied every style, and borrowed from every tion; and which will always return, and assert
manner that has prevailed, from the times of its power over their affections, long after
Chaucer to his own;-illuminating and unit- authority has lost its reverence, fashions been
ing. if not harmonizing them all, by a force antiquated, and artificial tastes passed away.
of colouring, and a rapidity of succession, In endeavouring, therefore, to bespeak some
which is not to be met with in any of his share of favour for such of his contemporaries
many models. The latter, we think, can as had fallen out of notice, during the prevascarcely be said to have copied his pathos, or lence of an imported literature, we conceive
his energy, from any models whatever, either that we are only enlarging that foundation of
recent or early. The exquisite harmony of native genius on which alone' any lasting
his versification is elaborated, perhaps, from  superstructure can be raised, and invigorating
the Castle of Indolence of Thomson, and the that deep-rooted stock upon which all the
serious pieces of Goldsmith — and it seems perennial blossoms of our literature must still
to be his risfortune, not to be able to reconcile be engrafted.
himself to any thing which he cannot reduce. The notoriety of Shakespeare may seem to
within the limits of this elaborate harmony. make it superfluous to speak of the peculiari
This extreme fastidiousness, and the limita- ties of those old dramatists, of whom he will
tion of his efforts to themes of unbroken ten- be admitted to be so worthy a representative.
derness or sublimity, distinguish him from the Nor shall we venture to say any thing of the
careless, prolific, and miscellaneous authors confusion of their plots, the disorders of their
of our primitive poetry; —while the enchant- chronology, their contempt of the unities, or
ing softness of his pathetic passages, and the their imperfect discrimination between the
power and originality of his more sublime provinces of Tragedy and Comedy. Yet there
conceptions, place him at a still greater dis- are characteristics which the lovers of literatance from  the wits, as they truly called ture may not be displeased to find enumerated,
themselves, of Charles II. and Queen Anne.  and which may constitute no dishonourable
We do not know what other apology to distinction for the whole fraternity, independoffer for this hasty, and, we fear, tedious ent of the splendid talents and incommunicasketch of the history of our poetry, but that ble graces of their great chieftain.
it appeared to us to be necessary, in order to   Of the old English dramatists, then, inexplain the peculiar merit of that class of eluding under this name (besides Shakewriters to which the author before us belongs; speare), Beaumont and Fletcher, Massinger,
and that it will very greatly shorten what we Jonson, Ford, Shirley, Webster, Dekkar, Field,
have still to say on the characteristics of our and Rowley, it may be said, m general, that
older dramatists. An opinion prevails very they are more poetical, and more original in
generally on the Continent, and with foreign- their diction, than the dramatists of any other
bred scholars among ourselves, that our na- age or country. Their scenes abound more
tional taste has been corrupted chiefly byour in varied images, and gratuitous excursions
dolatry of Shakespeare; —and that it is our of fancy. Their illustrations, and figures of
patriotic and traditional admiration of that speech, are more borrowed from rural life
singular writer, that reconciles us to the mon- and from the simple occupations or universal
c'rous compound of faults and beauties that feelings of mankind. They are not confined




304                                  POETRY.
to a certain range of dignified expressions, formly leave the scene without exhausting
nor restricted to a particular assortment of the controversy. or stating half the plausible
imagery, beyond which it is not lawful to look things for themselves that any ordinary adfor embellishments. Let any one compare visers might have suggested-after a few
the prodigious variety, and wide-ranging free- weeks' reflection. As specimens of eloquent
dom of Shakespeare, with the narrow round argumentation, we must admit the signal irof flames, tempests, treasons, victims, and feriority of our native favourites; but as true
tyrants, that scantily adorn the sententious copies of nature,-as vehicles of passion, and
pomp of the French drama, and he will not representations of character, we confess we
fail,o recognise the vast superiority of the are tempted to give them  the preference.
former, in the excitement of the imagination, When a dramatist brings his chief characters
and all the diversities of poetical delight. on the stage, we readily admit that he must
That very mixture of styles, of which the give them  something to say,-and that this
French critics have so fastidiously complained. something must be interesting and characterforms, when not carried to any height of ex- istic — but he should recollect also, that they
travagance, one of the greatest charms of our are supposed to come there without having
ancient dramatists. It is equally sweet and anticipated all they were to hear, or medinatural for personages toiling on the barren tated on all they were to deliver; and that it
heights of life, to be occasionally recalled to cannot be characteristic, therefore, because it
some vision of pastoral innocence and tran- must be glaringly unnatural, that they should
quillity, as for the victims or votaries of am- proceed regularly through every possible view
bition to cast a glance of envy and agony on of the subject, and exhaust, in set order, the
the joys of humble content.               whole magazine of reflections that can be
Those charming old writers, however, have brought to bear upon their situation.
a still more striking peculiarity in their con-   It would not be fair, however, to leave this
duct of the dialogue. On the modern stage, view of the matter, without observing, that
every scene is visibly studied and digested this unsteadiness and irregularity of dialogue,
beforehand, -and every thing from beginning which gives such an air of nature to our older
to end, whether it be description, or argument, plays, and keeps the curiosity and attention
or vituperation, is very obviously and osten- so perpetually awake, is frequently carried to
tatiously set forth in the most advantageous a most blameable excess; and that, indepenlight, and with all the decorations of the most dent of their passion for verbal quibbles, there
elaborate rhetoric. Now, for mere rhetoric, is an inequality and a capricious uncertainty
and fine composition, this is very right; —but, in the taste and judgment of these good old
for an imitation of nature, it is not quite so writers, which excites at once our amazement
well: And however we may admire the skill and our compassion. If it be true, that no
of the artist, we are not very likely to be other man has ever written so finely as Shakemoved with any very lively sympathy in the speare has done in his happier passages, it is
emotions of those very rhetorical interlocutors. no less true that there is not a scribbler now
When we come to any important part of the alive who could possibly write worse than he
play, on the Continental or modern stage, we has sometimes written —who could, on occat
are sure to have a most complete, formal, sion, devise more contemptible ideas, or mis
and exhausting discussion of it, in long flourish- place them so abominably, by the side of suc}
ing orations;-argument after argument pro- incomparable excellence. That there were,
pounded and answered with infinite ingenuity, no critics, and no critical readers in those days
and topic after topic brought forward in well- appears to us but an imperfect solution of th6e
digested method, without any deviation that difficulty. He who could write so admirably
the most industrious and practised pleader must have been a critic to himself. Children
would not approve of, —till nothing more re- indeed, may play with the most precious
mains to be said, and a new scene introduces gems, and the most worthless pebbles, with
us to a new set of gladiators. as expert and out being aware of any difference in theie
persevering as the former. It is exactly the value; but the fiery powers which are neces
same when a story is to be told,-a tyrant to sary to the production of intellectual excel.
be bullied,-or a princess to be wooed. On lence, must enable the possessor to recognise
the old English stage, however, the proceed- it as excellence; and he who knows when he
ings were by no means so regular. There the succeeds, can scarcely be unconscious of his
discussions always appear to be casual and failures. Unaccountable, however, as it is,
the argument quite artless and disorderly. the fact is certain, that almost all the dramatic
The persons of the drama, in short, are made writers of this age appear to be alternately
to speak like men and women who meet inspired, and bereft of understanding; and
without preparation, in real life. Their rea- pass, apparently without being conscious of
sonings are perpetually broken by passion,. or the change, from the most beautiful displays
left imperfect for want of skill. They con- of genius to the most melancholy exemplifistantly wander from the point in hand, in the cations of stupidity.
most unbusinesslike manner in the world;-    There is only one other peculiarity which
and after hitting upon a topic that would afford we shall notice in those ancient dramas; and
a judicious playwright room for a magnificent that is, the singular, though very beautiful
seesaw of pompous declamation, they have style, in which the greater part of them are
generally the awkwardness to let it slip, as composed,-a stale which we think must be
if perfectly unconscious of its value; and uni- felt as peculiar bj all whc peruse them, though




FORD'S DRAMATIC WORKS.                                305
it is by nlo means easy to describe in what its from what they promised to do in the beg'npeculiarity consists. It is not, for the most ning. This kind of surprise has been replcpart; a lofty or sonorous style,-nor can it be sented by some as a master-stroke of art in
said generally to be finical or affected, —or the author, and a great merit in the perform.
strained, quaint, or pedantic: —But it is, at ance. We have no doubt at all, however, that
the same time, a style full of turn and con- it is to be ascribed merely to the writer's
trivance,-with some little degree of constraint carelessness, or change of purpose; and have
and involution,-very often characterised by never failed to feel it a great blemish in every
a studied briefness and simplicity of diction, serious piece where it occurs.
yet relieved by a certain indirect and figura-   The author has not much of the oratorical
tive cast of expression,-and almost always stateliness and imposing flow of Massinger;
coloured with a modest tinge of ingenuity, nor a great deal of the smooth and flexible
and fashioned, rather too visibly, upon a par- diction, the wandering fancy, and romantic
ticular model of elegance and purity. In sweetness of Beaumont and Fletcher: and yet
scenes of powerful passion, this sort of arti- he comes nearer to these qualites than to any
ficial prettiness is commonly shaken off; and, of the distinguishing characteristics of Jonson
in Shakespeare, it disappears under all his or Shakespeare. He excels most in representforms of animation: But it sticks closer to ing the pride and gallantry, and high-toned
most of his contemporaries.  In Massinger honour of youth, and the enchanting softness,
(who has no passion), it is almost always dis- or the mild and graceful magnanimity of fecernable; and, in the author before us, it gives male character. There is a certain melana peculiar tone to almost all the estimable choly air about his most striking representaparts of his productions.-It is now time, how- tions; and, in the tender and afflicting pathetic
ever, and more than time, that we should turn he appears to us occasionally to be second
to this author.                             only to him who has never yet had an equal.
His biography will not detain us long; for The greater part of every play, however, is
very little is known about him. He was born bad; and there is not one which does not
in Devonshire. in 1586; and entered as a contain faults sufficient to justify the derision
student in the Middle Temple; where he even of those who are incapable of comprebegan to publish poetry, and probably to write hending its contrasted beauties.
plays, soon after his twenty-first year. He   The diction we think for the most part
did not publish any of his dramatic works, beautiful, and worthy of the inspired age
however, till 1629; and though he is supposed which produced it. That we may not be susto have written fourteen or fifteen pieces for. pected of misleading our readers by partial
the theatres, only nine appear to have been and selected quotations, we shall lay before
printed, or to have found their way down to them the very first sentence of the play which
the present times. He is known to have stands first in this collection. The subject is
written in conjunction with Rowley and Dek- somewhat revolting; though managed with
kar, and is supposed to have died about 1640; great spirit, and, in the rmole dangerous parts,
-and this is the whole that the industry of with considerable dignity. A  brother and
Mr. Weber, assisted by the researches of sister fall mutually in love with each other,
Steevens and Malone, has been able to dis- and abandon themselves, with a sort of splen.
cover of this author.                       did and perverted devotedness, to their inIt would be useless, and worse than use- cestuous passion. The sister is afterwards
less, to give our readers an abstract of the married, and their criminal intercourse de.
fable and management of each of the nine tected by her husband,-when the brother,.
plays contained in the volumes before us. A  perceiving their destruction inevitable, first;
very few brief remarks upon their general kills her, and then throws himself upon the
character, will form a sufficient introduction sword of her injured husband.  The play
to the extracts, by which we propose to let opens with his attempting to justify his passion:
our readers judge for themselves of the merits to a holy friar, his tutor —who thus addresses 
of their execution. The comic, parts are all him.
utterly bad. With none of the richness of   "Friar. Dispute no more in this; Tor know
Shakespeare's humour, the extravagant mer-       young man,
riment of Beaumont and Fletcher, or the These are no school points; Nice philosophy
strong colouring of Ben Johnson, they are as May tolerate unlikely arguments
heavy and as indecent as those of Massinger, But heaven admits no jest. Wits that presum'd
~~~~~~~~~~heavy and as indOn wit too much, by striving how to prove
and not more witty, though a little more va- There was no God, with foolish grounds of art,
ried, than the buffooneries of Wycherley or Discover'd first the nearest way to hell,
Dryden. Fortunately, however, the author's And filled the world with dev'lish atheism.
merry vein is not displayed in very many Such questions, youth, are fond: for better'tise
parts of his performances.  Tis plots are not To bless the-sun, than reason why it shines
Yet he thou talk'st of'is above the sun.
very cunningly digested; nor developed, for No more! I may not hear it.
the most part, by a train of probable incidents.   Gio.               Gentle father,
His characters are drawn rather with occa- To you I have unclasp'd my burden'd soul,
sional felicity, than with general sagacity and  Emptied the storehouse of my thoughts and heah,,,
judgment. Like those of Massinger, they are Made myself poor of secrets; have not left
very apt to startle the reader with sudden and Another word untold, which hath not spoke
All what I ever durst, or think, or know;
unexpected transformations and to turn out  And yet is here the comfort I shall have?
in the latter half of the play, very differently Must I not do what ll me"n ese may,-love 1
20




306                                      POETRY.
No, father! i i your eyes I see the change     Alas, these gay attires were not put on
Of pity and compassion; from your age,         But to some end; this sudden solemn feast
As from a sacred oracle, distils               Was not ordain'd to riot in expense;
The life of counsel. Tell me, holy man,        I that have now been chamber'd here alone,
What cure shall give me ease in these extremes?   Barr'd of my guardian, or of any else,
Friar. Repentance, son, and sorrow for this sin: Am not for nothing at an instant freed
For thou hast mov'd a majesty above            To fresh access. Be not deceiv'd, my brother,
With thy unranged, almost, blasphemy.          This banquet is an harbinger of Death
Gio. 0 do not speak of that, dear confessor.  To you and me! resolve yourself it is,
Friar. Then I have done, and in thy wilful flames And be prepar'd to welcome it.     [face
Already see thy ruin; Heaven is just.           Gio. Look up, look here; what see you in m)
Yet hear my counsel!                             Ann. Distraction and a troubled countenance.
Gio.               As a voice of life.         Gio. Death and a swift repining wrath!   Yet
Friar. Hie to thy father's house; there lock thee What see you in mine eyes?         [look,
Alone within thy chamber; then fall down   [fast   Ann.         Methinks you weep.
On both thy knees, and grovel on the ground;     Gio. I do indeed. These are the funeral tears
Cry to thy heart; wash every word thou utter'st   Shed on your grave! These furrow'd up my cheeks
In tears (and if't be possible) of blood:     When first I lov'd and knew not how to woo.
Beg Heaven to cleanse the leprosy of love      Fair Annabella! should I here repeat
That rots thy soul; weep, sigh, pray           The story of my life, we might lose time!
Three times a day, and three times every night:   Be record, all the spirits of the air,
For seven days' space do this; then, if thou find'st And all things else that are, that day and night,
No change in thy desires, return to me;        Early and late, the tribute which my heart
I'll think on remedy. Pray for thyself         Hath paid to Annabella's sacred love     [now.
At home, whilst I pray for thee here. Away!    Hath been these tears,-which are her mourners
My blessing with thee! We have need to pray."   Never till now did nature do her best
Vol. i. pp. 9 —12.   To show a matchless beauty to the world,
Which in an instant, ere it scarce was seen,
In a subsequent scene with the sister, the  The jealous destinies require again.
same holy person maintains the dignity of his Pray, Annabella, pray! since we must part,
style.                                         Go thou, white in thy soul, to fill a throne
Of innocence and sanctity in heaven.
Friar. I am glad to see this penance; for, believe Pray, pray, my sister.
You have unripp'd a soul so foul and guilty,  [me   Ann.             Then I see your drift;
As I must tell you true, I marvel how          Ye blessed angels, guard me!
The earth hath borne you up; but weep, weep on,   Gio.                       So say I.
These tears may do you good; weep faster yet,    Kiss me! If ever after-times should hear
Whilst I do read a lecture.                    Of our fast-knit affections, though perhaps
Ann.                    Wretched creature!'The laws of conscience and of civil use
Friar. Ay, you are wretched, miserably wretch- May justly blame us, yet when they but know
Almost condemned alive. There is a place,  [ed, Our loves, that love will wipe away that rigour,
List, daughter,) in a black and hollow vault,  Which would in other incests be abhorr'd.'Where day is never seen; there shines no sun,    Give me your hand. How sweetly life doth run'But flaming horror of consuming fires;         In these well-colour'd veins! how constantly
A lightless sulphur, chok'd with smoky fogs    These palms do promise health! but I could chide
Of an infected darkness; in this place          With nature for this cunning flattery.-'Dwell many thousand thousand sundry sorts      Kiss me again!-forgive me!'Of never-dying deaths. There damned souls        Ann.                       With my heart.'Roar without pity; there are gluttons fed        Gio. Farewell.
With toads and adders; there is burning oil       Ann.           Will you be gone 
Pour'd down the drunkard's throat; the usurer   Gio.                      Be dark, bright sun,
[s forc't to sup whole draughts of molten gold;    And make this mid-day night, that thy gilt rays
Thereis the murderer for ever stabb'd,        May not behold a deed will turn their splendour
Yet cante never die; there lies the wanton     More sooty than the poets feign their Styx!
On racks-of burning steel, whilst in his soul  One other kiss, my  sister!
He feels the torment of his raging lust.         Ann.                    What means this?
Ann. Mercy! oh mercy!              [things,   Gio. To save thy fame, and kill thee in a kiss!
Friar.            There stand these wretched                                      [Stabs her.
Who have dream'd out whole years in lawless sheets Thus die! and die by me, and by my hand!
And secret incests, cursing one another," &c.    Ann. Oh brother, by your hand!
Vol. i. pp. 63, 64.  Gio.                    When thou art dead
The most-.striking scene of the play, how- I'll give my reasons for't; for to dispute
ever, is that which contains the catasirophe  With thee, even in thy death, most lovely beauty,
Would make me stagger to perform this act
of the lady's'fate.  Her husband, after shut- Which I most glory inm.
ting her up for some time in gloomy privacy,   Ann. Forgive him, Heaven-and me my sins!
invites her brother, and all his family, to a          Farewell.
solemn banquet; and even introduces him, Brother unkind, unkind,-mercy, great Heaven,before it is served up, into her private cham-         oh-oh.                           [Dies.
ber,'w  ere he finds her sitting on her mar-   Gion  She's dead, alas, good soul! This marriage
In all her best, bore her alive and dead.  [bed,
riage-bed, in splendid attire, but filled with  Soranzo, thou hast miss'd thy aim in this;
boding terrors and agonising anxiety.  He, I have prevented now thy reaching plots,
though equally aware of the fate that was And kill'd a love, for whose each drop of blood
prepared for them, addresses her at first with  I would have pawn'd my heart. Fair Annabella,
a kind of wild and desperate gaiety, to which  How over-glorious art thou in thy wounds,
Triumphing over infamy and hate!
she7 tries for a while to answer with sober and  Shrink not, courageous hand; stand up, my heart,
earnest warnings,-and at last exclaims im- And boldly act my last, and greater part!"
patiently,                                     -Vol. i. pp. 98-101.         [Exit with the body,
"' Ann.             O let's not waste          There are few  things finer than this m
These precious hours in vain and useless speech.   Shakespeare. It bears an obvious resemblance




FORD'S DRAMATIC WORKS.                                    30,
indeed to the death of Desdemona; and,   Pen.                               Not yet, heaven
taking it as a detached scene, we think it I do beseech thee! first, let some wild fires
rather the more beautiful of the two.  The  Scorch, not consume it! may the heat be cherish'd
sw~eetness of the diction-the natural tone of With desires infinite, but hopes impossible!
Ith. Wrong'd soul, thy prayers are heard.
tenderness and passion-the strange perver-   Pen.                         Here, lo, I breathe,
sion of kind and magnanimous natures, and  A miserable creature, led to ruin
the horrid catastrophe by which their guilt is By an unnatural brother!
at once consummated and avenged, have not   Ith.                       I consume
In languishing affections of that trespass;
often been rivalled, in the pages either of the In languishing affections of that trespass;
modern or the ancient drama.                    Pen.          The handmaid to the wages,
The play entitled " The Broken Hearth is The untroubled but of country toil, drinks streams
in our author's best manner; and would sup- With leaping kids and with the bleating lambs,
ply more beautiful quotations than we have  And so allays her thirst secure; whilst I
left room for inserting.  The story is a little  Quench my hot sighs with fleetings of my tears.
complicated  but the following slight sketch   Ith. The labourer doth eat his coarsest bread,
complicated; but the following slight sketch  Earn'd with his sweat, and lies him down to sleep;
of it will make our extracts sufficiently in- Whilst every bit I touch turns in digestion
telligible.  Penthea, a noble lady of Sparta, To gall, as bitter as Penthea's curse.
was betrothed with her father's approbation  Put me to any penance for my tyranny
and her own full consent, to Orgilus; but And I will call thee merciful.
Pen.                      Pray kill me!
being solicited, at the same time, by Bassanes, Rid me from living with a jealous husband,
a person of more splendid fortune, was, after Then we will join in friendship, be again
her father's death, in a manner compelled by  Brother and sister.-Kill me, pray! nat, will ye t
her brother Ithocles to violate her first en-   Ith. Thou shalt stand
gagement, and yield him  her hand.  In this A deity, my sister, and be worshipp'd
ill-sorted alliance, though living a life of un- For thy resolved martyrdom: wrong'd maids
i   purity, she was harassed and  And married wives shall to thy hallow'd shrine
impeachable purity, she was harassed and  Offer their orisons, and sacrifice
degraded by the perpetual jealousies of her Pure turtles, crown'd with myrtle, if thy pity
unworthy husband; and pined away, like her Unto a yielding brother's pressure, tend
deserted lover, in sad and bitter recollections  One finger but, to ease it.
of the happy promise of their youth.  Itho-   Pen. Who is the saint you serve.  [daughter!
cles, in the meantime, had pursued the course   Ith. Calantha'tis!-the princess! the king's
of ambition with a bold and commanding  Dole heir nowf Spaovethee?  F orst my  iserable
spirit, and had obtained the highest honours Revenge thyself with bravery, and gossip
of his country; but too much occupied in the  My treasons-to the king's ears! Do!-Calantha
pursuit to think of the misery to which he  Knows it not yet; nor Prophilus, my nearest.
had condemned the sister who was left to his   Pen. We are reconcil'd!protection: At last, however, in the midst of Alas sir being children, but two branches...roud. At lareer, hoeeris seized  thea midsud Of one stock,'tis not fit we should divide:
fis proud career, he is seized with a sudden  Have comfort; you may find it.
passion for Calantha, the heiress of the sover-   Itth.                     Yes, in thee;
eign; and, after many struggles, is reduced to  Only in thee, Penthea mine!
ask the intercession and advice of his un-   Pen.                          If sorrows
happy sister, who was much in favour with  Have not too much dull'd my infected brain,
the princess.  The following is the scene in  I'll cheer invention for an active strain.
which he     makes thisrequest;-andtothose...Ith. Mad man! why have I wrong'd a maid so
which he makes this request; —and to those           excellent?"       Vol. i. pp. 273-277.
who have learned, from  the preceding passages, the lofty and unbending temper of the    We cannot resist the temptation of adding
suppliant, and the rooted and bitter anguish  a part of the scene in which this sad ambasof her whom  he addresses, it cannot fail to sadress acquits herself of the task she had
appear one of the most striking in the whole undertaken.  There is a tone of heart-struck
compass of dramatic composition.*             sorrow  and female  gentleness and  purity,"lh. Sit nearer, sister, to me!-nearer yet    about it that is singularly engaging, and conWe had one father in osne twomb took life;t!   trasts strangely with the atrocious indecen
Were brought up twins together; —Yet have liv'd cies with which the author has polluted his
At distance, like two strangers! I could wish  paper in other parts of the same play.-The
That the first pillow, whereon I was cradled,  princess says,
Had proved to me a grave!
Pen.                   You had been happy!   "Cal. Being alone, Penthea, you now have
Then had you never known that sin of life     The opportunity you sought; and might [granted
Which blots all following glories with a vengeance, At all times have commanded.
For forfeiting the last will of the dead,       Pen.'Tis a benefit
From whom you had your being.                  Which I shall owe your goodness even in death for:
Iti.                         Sad Penthea!  My glass of life, sweet princess, hath few minutes
Thou canst not be too cruel; my rash spleen   Remaining to run down; the sands are spent;
Hath with.a violent hand pluck'd from thy bosom   For by an inward messenger I feel
A love-blest heart, to grind it into dust-     The summons of departure short and certain.
For which mine's now a-breaking.                 Cal. You feed too much  our melancholy.
Pen.                                GlorieN
* I have often fancied what a splendid effect Mrs. Of human greatness are but pleasing dreams
Siddons and John Kemble would have given to the And shadows soon decaying. On the etage
opening of this scene, in actual representation!-  Of my mortality, my youth hath acted
with the deep throb of their low voices, their pa. Some scenes of vanity, drawn out at length
thetic pauses, and majestic attitudes and move- By varied pleasures, sweetened in the mixtvre.
rents!                                       But tragical in issue. Beauty, pomp,




308                                     POETRY.
With every sensuality our giddiness           him.  After taking this unjustifiable step; ha
Doth frame an idol, are unconstant friends,   is naturally troubled with  certain  inward
When any troubled passion makes us halt       compunctions, which manifest themselves i
On the unguarded castle of the mind.          compunctions, which maniest themseles i
Cal. To what end                            his exterior, and excite the apprehensions o,
Reach all these moral texts  his innocent bride.  It is her dialogue with
Pen.                     To place before ye  him that we are now to extract; and we think
A perfect mirror, wherein you may see          the picture that it affords of unassuming inno
How weary I am of a lingering life;           cence and singleness of heart, is drawn witi
Who count the best a misery.                  great truth, and even elegance.  She begins
Cal.                      Indeed
You have no little cause; yet none so great   with asking him why he changes countenance
As to distrust a remedy.                      so suddenly.  He answersPen.                  That remedy
Must be a winding sheet! ji fold of lead,                            "Who, I? For nothing.
And some untrod-on corner of the earth.-         Sus. Dear, say not so: a spirit of your constancy
Not to detain your expectation, princess,      Cannot endure this change for nothing. I've obI have an humble suit.                                serv'd
Cal.                Speak; and enjoy it.    Strange variations in you.
Pen. Vouchsafe, then, to be my executrix,     Frank.                 In me?
And take that trouble on you to dispose         Sus.                            In you, sir.
Such legacies as 1 bequeath, impartially;     Awake, you seem to dream, and in your sleep
I have not much to give; the pains are easy,  You utter sudden and distracted accents,  [band,
Heav'n will reward your piety, and thank it    Like one at enmity with peace. Dear loving husWhen I am dead; for sure I must not live:     If I may dare to challenge any interest
I hope I cannot."                             In you, give me thee fully! you may trust
My breast as safely as your own.
After leaving her fame, her youth, &c. in   Frank.                          With what?
some very pretty but fantastical verses, she You half amaze me; pr'ytheeproceeds-                                        Sus.                    Come, you shall not,
Indeed you shall not shut me from partaking
" Pe.'Tis long agone, since first I lost my heart; The least dislike that grieves you. I'm all yours.
Long have I lived without it; else for certain  Frank. And I all thine.
I should have given that too; But instead        Sus.                You are not; if you keep
Of it, to great Calantha, Sparta's heir,       The least grief from me: but I know the cause;
By service bound, and by affection vow'd,     It grows from me.
I do bequeath in holiest rites of love           Frank.          From you?
Mine only brother, Ithocles.                     Sus.                     From some distaste
Cal. What say'st thou?                     In me or my behaviour: you're not kind
Pen.                   I must leave the world In the concealment.'Las, sir, I am young,
To revel in Elysium; and'tis just             Silly and plain; more strange to those contents
To wish my brother some advantage here;        A wife should offer. Say but in what I fail,
Yet by my best hopes, Ithocles is ignorant     I'll study satisfaction.
Of this pursuit.                                 Frank.             Come; in nothing.
Cal.         You have forgot, Penthea,        Sus. I know I do: knew I as well in what,
How still I have a tather.                     You should not long be sullen. Pr'ythee, love,
Pen.                  But remember           If I have been immodest or too bold,
I am a sister, though to me this brother       Speak't in a frown; if peevishly too nice,
Hath been, you know, unkind! Oh, most unkind!"  Shew't in a smile. Thy liking is a glass
Vol. i. pp. 291-293.   By which I'll habit my behaviour.
Frank.                        Wherefore
There are passages of equal power and  Dost weep now?
beauty in the plays called " Love's Sacrifice,"   Sus.          You, sweet, have the power
"The Lover's Melancholy," and in " Fancies To make me passionate as an April day.
Chaste and Noble." In Perkin Warbeck. there  Now smile, then weep; now pale, then crimson red.
is a more uniform  and sustained elevation of You are the powerful moon of my blood's sea,
To make it ebb or flow into my face,
style. But we pass all those over, to give our As your looks change.
readers a word or two from C" The Witch of   Frank.            Change thy conceit, I pr'ythee:
Edmonton,7' a drama founded upon the recent Thou'rt all perfection: Diana herself
execution of a miserable old woman for that Swells in thy thoughts and moderates thy beauty.
fashionable offence; and in which the devil, Within thy clear eye amorous Cupid sits
in the shape of a black dog, is a principal per- Feathering love-shafts, whose goldenheads he dips
former! The greater part of   the play prin which  In thy chaste breast.
Sus. Come, come: these golden strings of flattery
Ford was assisted by Dekkar and Rowley, is Shall not tie up my speech, sir; I must know
of course utterly absurd and contemptible-  The ground of your disturbance.
though not without its value as a memorial   Frank.                          Then look nere
of the strange superstition of the age; but it For here, here is the fen in which this hydra
contains some scenes of great interest and  Of discontent grows rank.
gus.              Heaven shield it! Where
beauty, though written in a lower and more   Frank. In mine own bosom! here the cause has
familiar tone than most of those we have al-          root;
jeady exhibited. As a specimen of the range The poisoned leeches twist about my heart,
oef the author's talents we shall present our And will, I hope, confound me.
ieaders with one of these.  Frank ThorneyYou speak riddles
Vol. ii. pp. 437-440.
had privately married a woman of inferior
rank; and is afterwards strongly urged by his    The unfortunate bigamist afterwards refather and his own inclination, to take a solves to desert this innocent creature; but,
second wife in the person of a rich yeoman's in the act of their parting, is moved by the
daughter whose affections were fixed upon  devil, who rubs against him in the shape of a




HAZLITT'S CHARACTERS OF SHAKESPEARE.                                30
dog! to murder her.  We are tempted to Thou art my husband, Death! Iembrace thee
give the greater part of this scene, just to  With all the love I have. Forget the stain
show how much beauty of diction and natu- Of my unwitting sin: and then I come
expression of character may be com- A crystal virgin to thee. My soul's purity
ral expression  of character may be com- Shall, withbldigsascend thedoorsofmercy
Sh2,I wit h boldwings, ascend the doors of mercy
bined with the most revolting and degrading  For innocence is ever her companion.
absurdities. The unhappy bridegroom says-   Frank. Not yet mortal? I would not linger you,
Or leave you a tongue to blab.  [Stabs her again,
"Why would you delay? we have no other   Sus. Now heaven reward you ne'er the worse fol
business                              I did not think that death had been so sweet, [me!
Now, but to part.                      [time? Nor I so apt to love him. I could ne'er die better,
Sus. And will not that, sweet-heart, ask a long Had I stay'd forty years for preparation:
Methinks it is the hardest piece of work      For I'm in charity with all the world.
That e'er I took in hand.                     Let me for once be thine example, heaven;
Frank.                Fie, fie! why look,    Do to this man as I, forgive him freely,
I'll make it plain and easy to you. Farewell.  And may he better die, and sweeter live.  [Dies."
[Kisses her.                        Vol. ii. pp. 452-445.
Sus. Ah,'las! I'm not half perfect in it yet.  We cannot afford any more space for Mr.
I must have it thus read an hundred times.r
Pray you take some pains, I confess my dulness.   Ford; and what we have said, and what we
Frank. Come! again and again, farewell. [Kisses have shown of him, will probably be thought
her.]  Yet wilt return?                enough, both by those who are disposed to
All questions of my journey, my stay, employment, scoff and those who are inclined to admire.
And revisitation, fully I have answered all.
There's nothing now behind but-               It is but fair, however, to intimate, that a
Sus.                       But this request- thorough perusal of his works will afford more
Frank. What is't?                   [more, exercise to the former disposition than to the
Sus. That I may bring you thro' one pasture latter.  His faults are glaring and abundant;
Up to yon knot of trees: amongst those shadows   but we have not thought it necessary to proI'll vanish from you; they shall teach me how.    d
Frank. Why'tis granted: come, walk then.     uce any specimens of them  because they
Sus.                      Nay, not too fast: are exactly the sort of faults which every one
They say, slow things have best perfection;   acquainted with the drama of that age reckons
The gentle show'r wets to fertility,          upon finding.  No- body doubts of the existThe churlish storm makes mischief with his bounty. ence of such faults: But there are many who
Frank. Now, your request                    doubt of the existence of any counterbalancIs out: yet will you leave me?
Sus.                   What?  so churlishly  ing beauties; and therefore it seemed worth
You'll make me stay for ever,                 while to say a word or two in their explanaRather than part with such a sound from you.  tion.  There is a great treasure of poetry we
Frank. Why, you almost anger me. —'Pray you think, still to be brought to light in the neglectYou have no company, and'tis very early; [begone. ed writers of the age to which this author beSome hurt may betide you homewards.           longs; and poetry of a kind which, if purified
Sits.                    Tush! I fear none:
To leave you is the greatest I can suffer.    and improved, as the happier specimens show
Frank. So! I shall have more trouble."     that it is capable of being, would be far more
delightful to the generality of English readers
Here the dog rubs against him; and, after than any other species of poetry.  We shall
some more talk, he stabs her!                 readily be excused forour tediousness by those
Su..             Why then I thank you      who are of this opinion; and should not have
You have done lovingly, leaving yourself,     been forgiven, even if we had not been tedious,
That you would thus bestow me on another.     by those who look upon it as a heraenv
(2tn5tst, 18;17.)
Characters of Shakespeare's Plays. By WILLIAM HAZLITT. 8vo. pp. 352. London: 1817.*
THIS is not a book of black-letter learning, truth, rather an encomium  on Shakespeare,
or historical elucidation;-neither is it a me- than a commentary or critique on him —and
taphysical dissertation, full of wise perplexi- is written, more to show extraordinary love,
ties and elaborate reconcilements.  It is, in  than extraordinary knowledge of his productions.  Nevertheless, it is a very pleasing
* It may be thought that enough had been said book-and, we do not hesitate to say, a book
of our early dramatists, in the immediately preced- of very considerable originality and genius.
ing article; and it probably is so. But I could not The author is not merely an admirer of our
resist the temptation of thus renewing, in my own   eat dramatist,
name, that vow of allegiance, which I had so often gr          but an Idolater of him; and
taken anonymously, to the only true and lawful openly professes his idolatry. We have ourKing of our English Poetry! and now venture, selves too great a leaning to the same super
therefore, fondly to replace this slight and perish- stition, to blame him very much for his error:
able wreath on his august and undecaying shrine: and though we think, of course, that our owi
with no farther apology than that it presumes to...
direct attention but to one, and that, as I think, a admiratnon js on thehole more discriminatcomparatively neglected, aspect of his universal ong and judicious; there are  not many points
genius.                                        on which, especially after reading his eloquent




310                                  POETRY.
exposition of them. we should be much in-   In the exposition of these, there is rooli
dined to disagree with him.               enough for originality,-and more room thain
The book, as we have already intimated, is Mr. H. has yet filled. In many points, how.
writtenlessto tell the readerwhatMr.H. knows ever, he has acquitted himself excellently;about Shakespeare or his writings, than to partly in the development of the principa
explain to them what he feels about them-  characters with which Shakespeare has peo.
and why he feels so-and thinks that all who pled the fancies of all English readers-bui
profess to love poetry should feel so likewise. principally, we think, in the delicate sensiWhat we chiefly look for in such a work, ac- bility with which he has traced, and the
cordingly, is a fine sense of the beauties of natural eloquence with which he has pointed
the author, and an- eloquent exposition of out that fond familiarity with beautiful forms
them; and all this, and more, we think. may and images-that eternal recurrence to what
be found in the volume before us. There is is sweet or majestic in the simple aspects of
nothing niggardly in Mr. H.'s praises, and nature-that indestructible love of flowers
nothing affected in his raptures. He seems and odours, and dews and clear waters, and
animated throughout with a full and hearty soft airs and so  ds, and bright skies, and
sympathy with the delight which his author woodland solitudes and moonlight bowers,
should inspire, and pours himself gladly out which are the Material elements of Poetr —
in explanation of it, with a fluency and ardour, and that fine sense of their undefinable relaobviously much more akin to enthusiasm than tion to mental emotion, which is its essence
affectation. He seems pretty generally, in- and vivifying Soul-and which, in the midst
deed, in a state of happy intoxication —and of Shakespeare's most busy and atrocious
has borrowed from his great original, not in- scenes, falls like gleams of sunshine on rocks
deed the force or brilliancy of his fancy, but and ruins —contrasting with all that is rugged
something of its playfulness, and a large share and repulsive, and reminding us of the existof his apparent joyousness and self-indulgence ence of purer and brighter elements!-which
in its exercise. It is evidently a great plea- HE ALONE has poured out from the richness
sure to him  to be fully possessed with the of his own mind. without effort or restraint;
beauties c-f his author, and to follow the im- and contrived to intermingle with the play of
pulse cf hus unrestrained eagerness to impress all the passions, and the vulgar course of this
them upon hIis readers.                   world's affairs, without deserting for an instant
WhEn we have said that his observations the proper business of the scene, or appearing
are gene.ally right, we have said, in sub- to pause or digress, from the love of ornament
stance, that they are not generally original; or need of repose!-HE ALONE, who, when
for the beauties of Shakespeare are not of so the object requires it, is always keen and
dim or equivocal a nature as to be visible only worldly and practical-and who yet, without
to learned eyes-and undoubtedly his finest changing his hand, or stopping his course,
passages are those which please all classes of scatters around him, as he goes, all sounds
readers, and are admired for the same quali- and shapes of sweetness-and conjures up
ties by judges from every school of criticism. landscapes of immortal fragrance and freshEven with regard to those passages. however, ness, and peoples them  with Spirits of gloa skilful commentator will find something rious aspect and attractive grace —and is a
worth hearing to tell. Many persons are very thousand times more full of fancy and imasensible of the effect of fine poetry on their gery, and splendour, than those who, in purfeelings, who do not well know how to refer suit of such enchantments. have shrunk back
these feelings to their causes; and it is always from the delineation of character or passion,
a (lelightful thing to be made to see clearly and declined the discussion of human duties
the sources from which our delight has pro- and cares. More full of wisdom and ridicule
ceeded-and to trace back the mingled stream  and sagacity, than all the moralists and sathat has flowed upon our hearts, to the remo- tirists that ever existed-he is more wild,
ter fountains from which it has been gathered. airy, and inventive, and more pathetic and
And when this is done with warmth as well fantastic, than all the poets of all regions and
as precision, and embodied in an eloquentde- ages of the world: —and has all those elescription of the beauty which is explained, it ments so happily mixed up in him, and bears
forms one of the most attractive, and not the his high faculties so temperately, that the
least instructive, of literary exercises. In all most severe reader cannot complain of him
works of merit, however, and especially in all forwant of strength or of reason-nor the most
works of original genius, there are a thousand sensitive for defect of ornament or ingenuity.
retiring and less obtrusive graces, which es- Every thing in him is in unmeasured abundcape hasty and superficial observers, and only ance, and unequalled perfection-but every
give out their beauties to fond and patient thing so balanced and kept in subordination,
contemplation;-a thousand slight and har- as not to jostle or disturb or take the place
monising touches, the merit and the effect of of another. The most exquisite poetical conwhich are equally imperceptible to vulgar ceptions. imager, and descriptions, are given
eyes; and a thousand indications of the contin- with such brevity, and introduced with such
ual presence of that poetical spirit, which can skill, as merely to adorn, without loading the
only be recognised by those who are in some sense they accompany. Although his sails
measure under its influence, or have prepared are purple and perfumed, and his prow of
themselves to receive it, by worshipping beaten gold, they waft him on his voyage, not
meekly at the shrines which it inhabits.   less, but more rapidly and directly than if




HAZLITT'S CHARACTERS OF SHAKESPEARE.                               31
they had been composed of baser materials.   Sometimes a thousand twanging instruments
All his excellences, like those of Nature her-   Will hum about mine ears, and sometimes voices,
self, are thrown out together; and, instead of   That if I then had waked after a long sleep,
Would make me sleep again."
interfering with, support and recommend each
other. His flowers are not tied up in garlands,   Observe, too, that this and the other pIoeti.
nor his fruits crushed into baskets-but spring cal speeches of this incarnate demon, are not
living from the soil, in all the dew and fresh- mere ornaments of the poet's fancy, but exness of youth; while the graceful foliage in plain his character, and describe his situation
which they lurk, and the ample branches, the more briefly and effectually, than any other
rough and vigorous stem, and the wide-spread- words could have.done. In this play, indeed,
ing roots on which they depend. are present and in the Midsummer-Night's Dream, all
along with them, and share, in their places, Eden is unlocked before us, and the whole
the equal care of their Creator.             treasury of natural and supernatural beauty
What other poet has put all the charm of a poured out profusely, to the delight of all our
Moonlight landscape into a single line? —and faculties.  We dare not trust ourselves with
that by an image so true to nature, and so quotations; but we refer to those plays gensimple, as to seem obvious to the most corn- erally-to the forest scenes in As You Like
mon observation  It —the rustic parts of the Winter's Tale"See how the Moonlight SLEEPS on yonder bank!" several entire scenes in Cym"beline  and in
Romeo and Juliet-and many passages in all
Who else has expressed, in three lines, all the other plays-as illustrating this love of
that is picturesque and lovely in a Summer's nature and natural beauty of which we have
Dawn?-first setting before our eyes, with been speaking-the power it had over the
magical precision, the visible appearances of poet, and the power it imparted to him. Who
the infant light, and then, by one graceful else would have thought, on the very thresand glorious image, pouring on our souls all hold of treason and midnight murder, of
the freshness, cheerfulness, and sublimity of bringing in so sweet and rural an image as
returning morning? —                        this, at the portal of that blood-stained castle
" See, love! what envious streaks  of Macbeth?
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder East    "This guest of summer,
Night's candles* are burnt out,-and jocund Day    The temple-haunting martlet, does approve
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops!"     By his loved masonry that heaven's breath
Where shall we find sweet sounds and odours   Smells wooingly here. No jutting frieze,
so luxuriously blende~d andl illustrated, as in   Buttress, nor coigne of vantage, but this bird
these few words of -sweetness and melody,   Has made his pendent bed, and procreant cradle."
where the author says of soft music-          Nor is this brought in for the sake of an
" 0 it came o'er my ear, like the sweet South   elaborate contrast between the peaceful innoThat breathes upon a bank of violets,     cence of this exterior, and the guilt and horStealing and giving odour!"              rors that are to be enacted within.  There is
This is still finer, we think, than the noble no hint of any such suggestion-but it is set
speech on Music in the Merchant of Venice, down from the pure love of nature and reand only to be compared with the enchant- ality-because the kindled mind of the poet
ments of Prospero's island; where all the brought the whole scene before his eyes,
effects of sweet sounds are expressed in mi-and he painted all that he saw in his vision.
raculous numbers, and traced in their opera- The same taste  predominates  in that emtion on all the gradations of being, from the phatic exhortation to evil, where Lady Macdelicate Arial to the brutish Caliban. who,eth says,
savage as he is, is still touched with those            "Look like the innocent flower,
supernatural harmonies; and thus exhorts his      But be the serpent under it.
less poetical associates-                       And in that proud boast of the bloody
" Be not afraid, the isle is full of noises,  RichardSounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and           "But I was born so high:
hurt not.                                 Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top,
* If the advocates for the grand style object to   And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun!'
this expression, we shall not stop to defend it: But   The same splendour of natural imagery,
to us, it seems equally beautiful, as it is obvious and brought simply and directly to bear upon stern
natural, to a person coming out of a lighted chamber
into the pale dawn. The word candle, we admit, and repulsive passons, is to be found in the
is rather homely in modern language, while lamp is cynic rebukes of Apemantus to Timon.
sufficiently dignified for poetry. The moon hangs                Will these moist trees
her silver lamp on high, in every schoolboy's copy That have out-liv'd the eagle, page thy heels,
of verses; and she could not be called the candle And skip when thou point'st out? will the cold
of heaven without manifest absurdity. Such are    brook,
the caprices of usage. Yet we like the passage Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste
before us much better as it is, than if the candles   To cure thine o'er-night's surfeit t"
were changed into lamps.  If we should read,
"The lamps of heaven are quenched," or" wax    No one but Shakespeare would have thought
dim," it appears to us that the whole charm of of putting this noble picture into the taunting
the expression would be lost: as our fancies would address o s noble picture into the taunting
ro longer be recalled to the privacy of that dim- adlress of a snappish misanthropeany more
lighted chamber which the lovers were so reluct- than the following into the mouth of a merantly leaving.                                cenary murderer.




312                                       POETRY.
Their lips Le four red roses on a stalk,       His remarks on Macbeth are of a higher
And in their summer beauty kissed each other!"  and bolder character.  After noticing the
Dr this delicious description of concealed love, wavering and perplexity of Macbeth's resolu.
Ilto that of a regretful and moralizing parent. tion,  driven on, as it were, by the violence
"But he, his own affections Counsellor,        of his Fate, and staggering under the weight
Is to himself so secret and so close,         of his own purposes," he strikingly observes,
As is the bud bit with an envious worm.
"As is the bud bit with an envious worm  This part of his character is admirably set off
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,    by being brought in connection with that of Lady
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun."          iMacbeth, whose obdurate strength of will and masAnd yet all these are so far from being un- culine firmness give her the ascendancy over her
natural, that they are no sooner put where  husband's faltering virtue. She at once seizes on
they arethan we feel at once their beauty  the opportunity that offers for the accomplishment
they  are, th an we feelae   r                 of their wished-for greatness; and never flinches
and their effect; and acknowledge our obli- from her object till all is over.'Ihe magnitude of
gations to that exuberant genius which alone  her resolution almost covers the magnitude of her
could thus throw  out graces and atractions guilt. She is a great bad woman, whom we hate,
where there seemed to be neither room nor but whom we fear more than we hate. She does
call for them. In the same spirit of prodi- not excite our loathing and abhorrence like Regan
and Gonnerill. She is only wicked to gain 6 great
gality he puts this rapturous and passionate  end: and is perhaps more distinguished by her
exaltation of the beauty of Imogen, into the  commanding presence of mind and inexorable selfmouth of one who is not even a lover.          will, which do not suffer her to be diverted from a
bad purpose, when once formed, by weak and
-" It is her breathing that    womanly regrets, than by the hardness of her heart
Perfumes the chamber thus! the flame o' th' taper or want of natural affections." —pp. 18, 19.
Bows towards her! and would under-peep her lids
To see th' enclosed lights, now canopied          But the best part perhaps of this critique,
Under the windows, white and azure, laced      is the comparison of the Macbeth with the
With blue of Heaven's own tinct!-on her left Richard of the same author.
breast
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops    "The' leading features in the character of Mac.
I' the bottom of a cowslip!"                  beth are striking enough, and they form what may
be thought at first only a bold, rude, Gothic outline.
But we must break at once away from these  By comparing it with other characters of the same
manifold enchantments-and recollect that author we shall perceive the absolute truth and
our business is with Mr. Hazlitt, and not with  identity which is observed in the midst of the giddy
the great and gifted author on whom he is whirl and rapid career of events. Thus he is as
employed: And, to avoid the danger of any  distinct a being from Richard III. as it is possible
further preface, we shall now   let him  speak  to imagine, though these two characters in common
little for himself.  In his remarks on  hands, and indeed in the hands of any other poet,
a little for himseif.  In his remarks on Cym-  would have been a repetition of the same general
beline which is the first play in his arrange- idea, more or less exaggerated.  For both are
ment, he takes occasion to make the follow- tyrants, usurpers, murderers,-both aspiring and
ing observations on the female characters of anmbitious,-both courageous, cruel, treacherous.
his author.                                    But Richard is cruel from nature and ccnstitution.
Macbeth becomes so from accidental circumstances.
"It is the peculiar characteristicofShakespeare's Richard is from his birth deformed in body and
heroines, that they seem to exist only in their at- mind, and naturally incapable of good. Macbeth
tachment to others.. They are pure abstractions of is full of " the milk of human kindness," is frank,
the affections. We think as little of their persons sociable, generous. lie is tempted to the commisas they do themselves; because we are let into the sion of guilt by golden opportunities, by the instigasecrets of their hearts, which are more important. tions of his wife, and by prophetic warnings.
We are too much interested in their affairs to stop' Fate and metaphysical aid' conspire against his
to look at their faces, except by stealth and at inter- virtue and his loyalty. Richard on the contrary
vals. No one ever hit the true perfection of the needs no prompter; but wades through a series of
female character, the sense of weakness leaning crimes to the height of his ambition, from the un.
on the strength of its affections for support, so well governable violence of his temper and a reckless
as Shakespeare-no one ever so well painted natu- love of mischief. He is never gay but in the prosral tenderness free from affectation and disguise-  pect or in the success of his villanies: Macbeth is
no one else ever so well showed how delicacy and  full of horror at the thoughts of the murder of
timidity, when driven to extremity, grow romantic Duncan, which he is with aifficulty prevailed on to
and extravagant: For the romance of his heroines commit; and of remorse after its perpetration.
(in which they abound) is only an excess of the Richard has no mixture of common humanity in
habitual prejudices of their sex; scrupulous of being his composition, no regard to kindred or posterityfalse to their vows or truant to their affections, and  he owns no fellowship with others; he is'himself
taught by the force of feeling when to forego the alone.' Macbeth is not destitute of feelings of
forms of propriety for the essence of it. His women  sympathy, is accessible to pity, is even made in
were in this respect exquisite logicians; for there is some measure the dupe of his uxoriousness; ranks
nothing so logical as passion. Cibber, in speaking  the loss of friends, of the cordial love of his follow-,of the early English stage, accounts for the want ers, and of his good name, among the causes which,of prominence and theatrical display in Shake- have made him weary of life; and regrets that he,speare's female characters, from the circumstance, has ever seized the Crown by unjust means, since
that women in those days were not allowed to play he cannot transmit it to his Posterity. There are'the parts of women, which made it necessary to other decisive differences inherent in the two charkeep them a good deal in the back ground. Does acters. Richard may be regarded as a man of the
not this state of manners itself, which prevented  world, a plotting hardened knave, wholly regardtheir exhibiting themselves in public. and confined  less of everything but his own ends, and the means'them to the relations and charities of domestic life, to secure them.-Not so Macbeth. The superstitafford a truer explanation of the matter?  His we- tions of the age, the rude state of society, the
amen are certainly very unlike stage heroines."-  local scenery and customs, all give a wildness and
pp.3, 4.   imaginary grandeur to his character  From the




HAZLITT'S CHARACTERS OF SHAKESPEARE.                                   313
strangenless of the events that surround him, he is Qf the moral and political reflections which
full of ama;:ement and fear; and stands in doubt this author has intermixed with his criticisms.
between the world of reality and the world of
fancy. He sees sights not shown to mortal eye,   "Shakespeare has in this play and elsewhere
and hears unearthly music. All is tumult and dis- shown the same penetration into political character
order within and without his mind; his purposes and the springs of public events as into those of
recoil upon himself, are broken and disjointed; he every-day life.  For instance, the whole design to
is the double thrall of his passions and his destiny. liberate their country fails from the generous temRichard is not a character either of imagination or per and overweening confidence of Brutus in the
pathos, but of pure self-will. There is no conflict goodness of their cause and the assistance of others
of opposite feelings in his breast. In the busy tur-'ihus  t has always been. Those who mean well
bulence of his projects he never loses his self-pos- themselves think well of others, and fall a prey to
session, and makes use of every circumstance that their security.  The friends of liberty trust to the
happens as an instrument of his long-reaching de- professions of others, because they are themselves
signs. In his last extremity we regard him but as sincere, and endeavour to secure the public good
a wild beast taken in the toils: But we never en- with the least possible hurt to its enemies, who
tirely lose our concern for Macbeth; and he calls have no regard to any thing but their own unback all our sympathy by that fine close of thought- principled ends, and stick at nothing to accomplish
ful melancholy.                                 them. Cassius was better cut out for a conspirator.
" My way of life              His heart prompted his head. His habitual jealousy
Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf;       made him fear the worst that might happen, and his
And that which should accompany old age,       irritability of temper added to his inveteracy of purAs honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,  pose, and sharpened his patriotism. The mixed
I must not look to have! But in their stead,   nature of his motives made him fitter to contend
Curses not loud but deep; mouth-honour, breath, with bad men. The vices are never so well emWhich the poor heart would fain deny, and dares ployed as in combating one another. Tyranny and
not!" —                 pp. 26-30.   servility are to be dealt with after their own fashion:
In treating of the Julius Caesar Mr. H. ex- otherwise, they will triumph over those who spare
themt, adtl finally pronounce their funeral panegyric,
tracts the following short scene, and praises ita Antotly did that of Brutus.
so highly, and, in our opinion, so justly, that
we cannot resist the temptation of extracting    "All the conspirators, save only he,
il' too-together with his brief commentary.         Did that they did in envy of great Caesar:
He only in a general honest thought
"Brutus. The games are done, and Caesar is        Of common good to all, made one of them.
returning.                     [sleeve,                                      pp. 38, 39.
Cassius. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the    The same strain is resumed in his remarks
And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you
What has proceeded worthy note to-day.          on Coriolanus.
Brutus. I will do so; but look you, Cassius —
The angry spot doth glow on Cuesar's brow,        " Shakespeare seems to have had a leaning to
And all the rest look like a chidden train,    the arbitrary side of the question; perhaps from
Calphurnia's cheek is pale; and Cicero          some feeling of contempt for his own origin; and
Looks with such ferret and such fiery eyes,    to have spared no occasion of baiting the rabble.
Looks wite have such feen hinrret in the Capitoly eyes,  What he says of them is very true: what he says
wBein  crst in conferencthe by some senator.    of their betters is also very true; But he dwells
Being crust in conference by some senator.      le  ue cause of the people is indeed but
Cassius. Casca will tell us what the matter is.  less upon it.-he cause ofthe people s indeed but
Csasius. Antoniusll                          little calculated as a subject for poetry: it admits of
CsonYr. Antonius                              rhetoric, which goes into argument and explanation,
Cetsar. Let me have men about me that are fat, but it presents no immediate or distinct images to
Seekheadedt met, and such a ts sleep a-nightst     the mind. The imagination is an exaggerating and
eeheond Cassideds has a lean and hungry look,eep a-nights exclusive faculty. The understanding is a dividing
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look,
IH-e thinks too much; such men are dangerous.    and measuring faculty. The one is an aristocrati
Anltsoy.  Fear him not, Csar, he's not danerer.  cal, the other a republican faculty. The principle
Antony.   Fear him not, Caesar, he's not dangerlie is a nobsl: R   a                   of poetry is a very anti-levelling principle. It aims
fie is a noble Roman, and well given.    [not: at effect, and exists by contrast. It is every thing
CFsar. Would he were fatterl!  But I fear him  by excess. It puts the individual for the species,
Yet if my name were liable to fear,            the one above the infinite many, might before right.
I do not know the man I should avoid            A lion hunting a flock of sheep is a more poetical
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much-   object than they; and we even take part with the
He is a great obserever; and he looks           lordly beast, because our vanity or some other feel.
Quite trough the deeds of men. Ie loves noplays, ing makes us disposed to place ourselves in the
As thou dost, Antony; hee hears no music:       situation of the strongest party. There is nothing
Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort,    heroical in a multitude of miserable rogues not
As if he mock'd himself, and scorned his spirit,    wishing to be starved, or complaining that they are'TIhat could be moved to smile at any thing.    like to be so: but when a single man comes forSuch nen as he beb never at heart's ease        ward to brave their cries and to make them submit
Whilst they behold a greater than themselves;    to the last indignities, from mere pride and self-will,
And therefore are they very dangerous.          our admiration of his prowess is immediately conI rather tell thee what is to be fear'd         verted into contempt for their pusillanimity.  We
Than what I fear; for always I am Caesar.       had rather, in short, be the oppressor than the opCome on my right hand, for this ear is deaf,    pressed. The love of power in ourselves and the
And tell me truly what thou think'st of him."   admiration of it in others are both natural to man:
But the one makes him a tyrant, the other a slave.'
"We know hardly any passage more expressive -pp. 69-72.
of the genius of Shakespeare than this. It is as if
he had been actually present, had known the dif-    There are many excellent remarks and
ferent characters and what they thought of one  several fine quotations, in the discussions onil
another, and had taken down what he heard and  Troilus and Cressida.  As this is no longer
saw, their looks, words, and gestures, just as they
happened.'"'-pp. 36, 37.           just as they  an acted play, we venture to give one extract1
with Mr. H.'s short observations, which par
We may add the following as a specimen  fectly express our opinion of its merits.




314                                      POETRY.
"It cannot be said of Shakespeare, as was said with him the cloude-l brow of reflection, and thought
of some one, that he was'without o'erflowing full.' himself' too much i' th' sun;' w oever has seen
He was full, even to o'erflowing. He gave heaped  the golden lamp of day dimmed by envious mists
measure, running over.  This was his greatest rising in his own breast, and could find in the world
fault. He was only in danger'of losing distinction  before him only a dull blank, with nothing left re.
in his thoughts' (to borrow his own expression)  markable in it; whoever has known'the pangs of
despised love, the insolence of' office, or the spurns
" As doth a battle wthen they charge on heaps   which patient merit of' the unworthy takes;' he who
The enermy flying."                        has felt his mind sink within him, and sadness cling
" There is another passage, the speech of Ulysses to his heart like a malady; who has had his hopes
to Achilles, showing him the thankless nature of blighted and his youth staggered by the apparitions
popularity, which has a still greater depth of moral of strange things; who cannot be well at ease, while
observation and richness of illustration than the he sees evil hovering near him like a spectre; whose
former.                                        powers of action have been eaten up by thought;
he to whom the universe seems infinite, and him.
"Ulysses. Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his self nothing; whose bitterness of soul makes him
Wherein he puts alms for Oblivion;      [back, careless of consequences, and who goes to a play,
A great-siz'd monster of ingratitudes;         as his best resource to shove off, to a second re.
Those scraps are good deeds past;              move, the evils of life, by a mock-representation of
Which are devour'd as fast as they are made,   them. —-This is the true Hamlet.
Forgot as soon as done: Persev'rance, dear my lord,   " We have been so used to this tragedy, that we
Keeps Honour bright: to have done, is to hang  hardly know how to criticise it, any more than we
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail        should know how to describe our own faces. But
In monumental mockery.  Take the instant way; we must make such observations as we can. It is
For Honour travels in a strait so narrow,      the one of Shakespeare's plays that we think of
That one but goes abreast; keep then the path,    oftenest because it abounds most in striking reflec.
For Emulation hath a thousand sons,            tions on human life, and because the distresses of
That one by one pursue; if you give way,       Hamlet are transferred, by the turn of his mind, to
Or hedge aside from the direct forth-right,    the general account of humanity.  Whatever hapLike to an entered tide they all rush by,      pens to him, we apply to ourselves; because he
And leave you hindmost;                        applies it so himself as a means of general reasonOr, like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank, [present, ing. He is a great moralizer, and what makes him
O'er-run and trampled on: then what they do in worth attending to is, that he moralizes on his own
Tho' less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours:   feelings and experience. He is not a commonplace
For Time is like a fashionable host,           pedant. If Lear shows the greatest depth of pasThat slightly shakes his parting guest by th' hand, sion, HAMLET is the most remarkable for the inge.
And with his arms outstretch'd as he would fly,    nuity, originality, and unstudied development of
Grasps in the comer: thus Welcome ever smiles,  character. There is no attempt to force an interest:
And Farewel goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek  every thing is left for time and circumstances to
Remuneration for the thing it was; For beauty, wit, unfold. The attention is excited without effort; the
High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service,  incidents succeed each other as matters of course;
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all    the characters think, and speak, and act, just as
To envious and calumniating time:              they might do if left entirely to themselves. T'Ihere
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.   is no set purpose, no straining at a point. The ob
That all, with one consent, praise new born gauds, servations are suggested by the passing scene —the
Though they are made and moulded of things past."  gusts of passion come and go like sounds of music
" The throng of images in the above lines is pro-. borne on the wind. The whole play is an exact
digious; and though they sometimes jostle against transcript of what might be supposed to have taken
one another, they  everywhere raise and carry on pla;e at the court of Denmark, at the remote period
the feeling, which  is metaphsically true and pro- of time fixed upon, before the modern refinements
the feeling, which is metaphsically true and pro- in morals and manners were heard of. It would
found."-pp. 85-871.                            in morals and manners were heard of. It would
found."-pp. 85 —87.           have been interesting enough to have been admit.
This Chapter ends with an ingenious paral- ted as a by-stander in such a scene, at such a tIne,
lel between the genius of Chaucer and that to have heard and seen something of what was
going on. But here we are more than spectators.
of Shakespeare, which we have not room  to  We have not only'the outward pageants and the
insert.                                        signs of grief,' but'we have that within which
The following observations on Hamlet are  passes show.' We read the thoughts of the heart,
The following observations on Hamlet are we catch the passions living as they rise. Other
very characteristic of Mr. H.'s manner of dramatic writers give us very fine versions and
writing in the work now before us; in which  paraphrases of nature; but Shakespeare, together
he continually appears acute, desultory, and  with his own comment, gives us the original text,
capricious — with g~reat occasional felicity of that we may judge for ourselves. This is a great
conception and  expression-firequent rashness advantage.
conception andxpresionfreqes "The character of Hamlet is itself a pure effuand carelessness-constant warmth of admi- sion of genius. It is not a character marked by
ration for his author-and some fits of extrav- strength of  will, or even of passion, but by refineagance and folly, into which he seems to be  ment of thought and sentiment. Hamlet is as little
hurried, either by the hasty kindling of his of the hero as a man can well be: but he is a young
zeal as he proceeds, or by a selfwilled deter- and princely novice, full of high enthusiasm and
rmination not to be balked or baffledl in any  quick sensibility, -the sport of circumstances,
mination not to bebalkedoquestioning with fortune, and refining on his own
thing he has taken it into his head he should  feelings; and forced from the natural bias of his
say.                                           disposition by the strangeness of his situation."pp. 104-107.
"Hamlet is a name: his speeches and sayings
but the idle coinage of the poet's brain. But are    His account of the Tempest is all pleasingly
they not real? They are as real as our own thoughts. written, especially his remarks on Caliban;
Their reality is in the reader's mind. It is we who but  e
are Hamlet. This play has a prophetic truth, which  but we rather give ou  readers his specula
is above that of history. Whoever has become
thoughtful and melancholy through his own mis.   "Bottom the Weaver is a character that has not
haps or those of' others; whoever has borne about had justice done him. He is the most romantic of




HAZLITT'S CHARACTERS OF SHAKESPEARE.                                    31a
mechanics; He follows a sedentary trade, and he is never see him at table. He carries his own larder
accordingly represented as conceited, serious, and  about with him, and he is himself'a tun of man.'
fantastical. He is ready to undertake any thing and  His pulling out the bottle in the field of battle is a
every thing, as if it was as much a matter of course  joke to show his contempt for glory accompanied
as the motion of his loom and shuttle. He is forplay- with danger, his systematic adherence to his Epiing the tyrant, the lover, the lady, the lion.' He will curean philosophy in the most trying circumstances.
roar that it shall do any man's heart good to hear Again, such is his deliberate exaggeration of his
him;' and this being objected to as improper, he own vices, that it does not seem  quite certain
still has a resource in his good opinion of himself, whether the account of his hostess' bill, found in
and'will roar you an'twere any nightingale.' his pocket, with such an out-of-the-way charge for
Snug the Joiner is the moral man of the piece, capons and sack with only one half-penny-worth
who proceeds by measurement and discretion in of bread, was not put there by himself, as a trick to
all things. You see him  with his rule and com- humour the jest upon his favourite propensities, and
passes in his hand.'Have you the lion's part as a conscious caricature of himself;
written? Pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am    " The secret of Falstaff's wit is for the most part
slow of study.'-' You may do it extempore,' says a masterly presence of mind, an absolute self-posQuince,' for it is nothing but roaring.' Starve- session, which nothing can disturb. His repartees
ling the Tailor keeps the peace, and objects to the  are involuntary suggestions of his self-love; instincl
lion and the drawn sword.'I believe we must tive evasions of every thing that threatens to inter.
leave the killing out when all's done.' Starveling, rupt the career of his triumphant jollity  and
however, does not start the objections himself, but self-complacency. His very size floats him out of
seconds them  when made by others, as if he had  all his difficulties in a sea of rich conceits; and he
no spirit to express his fears without encourage- turns round on the pivot of his convenience, with
ment. It is too much to suppose all this intentional: every occasion and at a moment's warning.  His
but it very luckily falls out so." —pp. 126, 127.  natural repugnance to every unpleasant thought or
circumstance, of itself makes light of objections,
Mr. H. admires Romeo and Juliet rather too  and provokes the most extravagant and licentious
much-though his encomium  on it is about answers in his own justification.  His indifference
the most eloquent part of his performance: to truth puts no check upon his invention; and the
But we really cannot sympathise with all the  more improbable and unexpected his contrivances
are, the more happily does he seem to be delivered
conceits and puerilities that occur in this play.; of them, the anticipation of their effect acting as a
for instance, this exhortation to Night, which  stimulus to the gaiety of his fancy.'Ihe success of
Mr. H. has extracted for praise! —              one adventurous sally gives him spirits to undertake
another: he deals always in round numbers, and
"Give me my Romeo-and when he shall die,    his exaggerations and excuses are' open, palpable,
Take him atnd cut him out in little stars,     monstrous as the father that begets them.' "
And he will make the face of heaven so fine,                                    pp. 189-192.
That all the world willbein love with Night,"&c.                                pp-12.
It is time, however, to make an end of this.
We agree, however, with less reservation, We are not in the humour to discuss points
in his rapturous encomium  on Lear-but can  of learning with this author; and our readers
afford no extracts. The following speculation  now  see well enough what sort of book he
on the character of Falstaff is a striking, and, has written.  We shall conclude with his reon the whole, a favourable specimen of our marks on Shakespeare's style of Comedy, inauthor's manner.                                 troduced in the account of the Twelfth Night.
" Wit is often a meagre substitute for pleasure-    " This is justly considered as one of the most deable sensation; an effusion of spleen and petty  lightful of Shakespeare's comedies. It is full of
spite at the comforts of others, from feeling none in sweetness and pleasantry. It is perhaps too gooditself. Falstaff's wit is an emanation of a fine con- natured for comedy. It has little satire, and no
stitution; an exuberance of good-humour and good- spleen. It aims at the ludicrous rather than the
nature; an overflowing of his loveof laughter, and  ridiculous. It makes us laugh at the follies of
good-fellowship; a giving vent to his heart's ease  mankind; not despise them, and still less bear any
and over-contentment with himself and others.-  ill-will towards them. Shakespeare's comic genius
He would not be in character if he were not so fat resembles the bee rather in its power of extracting
as he is; for there is the greatest keeping in the sweets from weeds or poisons, than in leaving a
boundless luxury of his imagination and the pam- sting behind it. He gives the most amusing exagpered sell Indulgence of his physical appetites. He geration of the prevailing foibles of his characters,
manures and nourishes his mind with jests, as he  but in a way that they themselves, instead of being
does his body with sack and sugar.  He carves out offended at, would almost join in to humour; he
his jokes, as he would a capon, or a haunch of rather contrives opportunities for them  to show
venison, where there is cut and come again: and  themselves off in the happiest lights, than renders
lavishly pours out upon them  the oil of gladness. them contemptible in the perverse construction of
His tongue drops fatness, and in the chambers of  the wit or malice of others.
his brain'it snows of meat and drink.' He keeps    " There is a certain stage of society, in which
up perpetual holiday and open house, and we live  people become conscious of their peculiarities and
with him in a round of invitations to a rump and  absurdities, affect to disguise what they are, and set
dozen.-Yet we are not left to suppose that he was up pretensions to what they are not. This gives'% mere sensualist. All this is as much in imagina- rise to a corresponding style of comedy, the object
tion as in reality. His sensuality does not engross of which is to detect the disguises of self-love, and
and stupify his other faculties, but'ascends me to make reprisals on these preposterous assumptions
into the brain, clears away all the dull, crude va- of vanity, by marking the contrast between the real
pours that environ it, and makes it full of nimble, and the affected character as severely as possible,
fiery, and delectable shapes.'  His imagination  and denying to those, who would impose on us for
keeps up the ball long after his senses have done  what they are not, even the merit which they have.
with it. He seems to have even a greater enjoy- This is the comedy of artificial life, of wit and sa
ment of the freedom from restraint, of good cheer, tire, such as we see in Congreve, Wycherley, Vanof his ease, of his vanity, in the ideal and exagge- brugh, &c. But there is a period in the progress
rated descriptions which he gives of them, than  of manners anterior to this, in which the foibles and
in fact.  He never fails to enrich his discourse  follies of individuals are of nature's planting, not the
with allusions to eating and drinking; but we growth of art or study; in which they are therefore




31t                                       POETRY.
unconscious of there themselves, or care not who  Maria, Sir Toby, and Sir Andrew Aguecheek.
knows them, if they can but have their whim out; For instance, nothing can fall much lower than this
and in which, as there is no attempt at imposition, last character in intellect or morals: yet how are his
the spectators rather receive pleasure from humour- weaknesses nursed and dandled by Sir Toby into
ing the inclinations of the persons they laugh at, something'high fantastical;' when on Sir Andrew's
than wish to give them pain by exposing their ab-  commendation of himself for dancing and fencing,
surdity. This may be called the comedy of na- Sir Toby answers,-' Wherefore are these things
ture; and it is the comedy which we generally find  hid? Wherefore have these gifts a curtain before
in Shakespeare.-Whether the analysis here given  them? Are they like to takedust, like Mrs. Moll's
be just or not, the spirit of his comedies is evidently  picture? Why dost thou not go to church in a
quite distinct from that of the authors above men- galliard, and come home in a coranto? My very
tioned; as it is in its essence the same with that of  walk should be a jig! I would not so much as make
Cervantes, and also very frequently of Moliere, water but in a cinque-pace. What dost thou mean?
though he was more systematic in his extravagance  Is this a world to hide virtues in? I did think by
than Shakespeare. Shakespeare's comedy is of a the excellent constitution of thy leg, it was framed
pastoral and poetical cast. Folly is indigenous to  under the star of a galliard!'-How Sir Toby, Sir
the soil, and shoots out with native, happy, un- Andrew, and the Clown afterwards chirp over their
checked luxuriance. Absurdity has every encour- cups! how they'rouse the night-owl in a catch,
agement afforded it; and nonsense has room  to  able to draw three ouls out of one weaver!' What
flourish in. Nothing is stunted by the churlish, icy  can be better than Sir Toby's unanswerable answer
hand of indifference or severity.  The poet runs riot to Malvolio,'Dost thou think, because thou art
in a conceit, and idolizes a quibble. His whole ob- virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?'ject is to turn the meanest or rudest objects to a  In a word, the best turn is given to everything, inleasurable account. And yet the relish which he  stead of the worst. There is a constant infusion of
has of a pun, or of the quaint humour of a low  the romantic and enthusiastic, in proportion as the
character, does not interfere with the delight with  characters are natural and sincere: whereas, in the
which he describes a beautiful image, or the most more artificial style of comedy, everything gives
refined love. The clown's forced jests do not spoil way to ridicule and indifference; there being noththe sweetness of the character of Viola.'I'he same  ing left but affectation on one side, and incredulity
house is big enough to hold Malvolio, the Countess on the other." —pp. 255-259.
(fitbruarV, 1822.)
Sardanapalus, a Tragedy.  The Two Foscari, a Tragedy.  Cain, a Mystery.  By LORD BYRON.
8vo. pp. 440. Murray. London: 1822.*
-T must be a more difficult thing to write a scenity, or deforms with rant, the genuine
good play-or even a good dramatic poem-  passion and profligacy of Antony and Cleopatra
than we had imagined.  Not that we should, -or intrudes  on the enchanted solitude of
a priori, have imagined it to be very easy: Prospero and his daughter, with the tones of
But it is impossible not to be struck with the worldly gallantry, orthe caricatures of affected
fact, that, in comparatively rude times, when  simplicity.  Otway, with the sweet and m.elthe resources of the art had been less care- low diction of the former age, had none of its.fully considered, and Poetry certainly had not force, variety, or invention. Its decaying fires
collected all her materials, success seems to burst forth in some strong and irregular flashes,
have been more frequently, and far more in the disorderly scenes of Lee; and sunk at
easily obtained.  From the middle of Eliza- last in the ashes, and scarcely glowing embers,
beth's reign till the end of James'. the drama of Rowe.
formed by far the most brilliant and beautiful   Since his time-till very lately-the school
part of our poetry, -and indeed of our litera- of our ancient Dramatists has been deserted:
ture in general.  From  that period to the  and we can sca:cely say that any new one
Revolution, it lost a part of its splendour and  has been established. Instead of the irregular
originality; but still continued to occupy the and comprehensive plot-the rich discursive
most conspicuous and considerable place in  dialogue-the ramblings of fancy-the magic
our literary annals.  For the last century, it creations of poetry-the rapid succession of
has been quite otherwise.  Our poetry has incidents and characters-the soft, flexible,
ceased almost entirely to be dramatic; and, and ever-varying diction-and  the flowing,
though men of great name and great talent continuous, and easy versification, which char.
have occasionally adventured into this once acterised those masters of the golden time
fertile field, they have reaped no laurels, and  we have had tame, formal, elaborate, and
left no trophies behind them.  The genius of stately compositions- meagre  stories — few
Dryden appears nowhere to so little advantage personages-characters decorous and consistas in his tragedies; and the contrast is truly  ent, but without nature or spirit-a guarded,
humiliating when, in a presumptuous attempt timid, classical diction-ingenious and meto heighten the colouring, or enrich the sim- thodical disquisitions-turgid or sententious
plicity of Shakespeare, he bedaubs with ob- declamations-and a solemn and monotonous
strain of versification.  Nor can this be ascribed, even plausibly, to any decay of genius
* I have thought it best to put all my Dramatical cribed even plausibly to any d   eay of genius
criticisms in one series: and, therefore, I take the among us; for the most remarkable failures
tragedies of Lord Byron in this place-and apart have fallen on the highest talents.  We have
from his other poetry.                         already hinted at the miscarriages of Dryden,




LORD BYRON'S TRAGEDIES.                                31"
The exquisite taste and fine observation of imitations, of Schiller and Kotzebue, caricae
Addison, produced only the solemn mawkish- tured and distorted as they were by the aberness of Cato. The beautiful fancy, the gor- rations of a vulgar and vitiated taste, had still
geous diction, and generous affections of so much of the raciness and vigour of the old
Thomson, were chilled and withered as soon English drama, from which they were avow.
as he touched the verge of the Drama; where edly derived, that they instantly became more
his name is associated with amass of verbose popular in England than any thing that her
puerility, which it is difficult to conceive could own artists had recently produced; and served
ever have proceeded from the author of the still more effectually to recal our, affections to
Seasons and the Castle of Indolence. Even their native and legitimate rulers. Then folthe mighty intellect, the eloquent morality, lowed republications of Massinger, and Beau.
and lofty style of Johnson, which gave too mont and  Fletcher, and  Ford, and  their
tragic and magnificent a tone to his ordinary contemporaries-and a host of new tragedies,
writing, failed altogether to support him in his all written in avowed and elaborate imitation
attempt to write actual tragedly; and Irene is of the ancient models. Mliss Baillie, we rather
not only unworthy of the imitator of Juvenal think, had the merit of leading the way in this
and the author of Rasselas and the Lives of return to our old allegiance-and then came
the Poets, but is absolutely, and in itself, a volume of plays by Mr. Chenevix, and a
nothing better than a tissue of wearisome succession of single plays, 11 of considerable
and unimpassioned declamations. We have merit, from Mr. Coleridge, Mr. Maturin, Mr.
named the most celebrated names in our Wilson, Mr. Barry Cornwall, and Mr.  jlmin.
literature, since the decline of the drama, al- The first and the last of these names` are the
most to our own days; and if they have neither most likely to be remembered; but none of
lent any new honours to the stage, nor bor- them, we fear, will ever be ranked with the
rowed any from it, it is needless to say, that older worthies; nor is it conceivable that any
those who adventured with weaker powers age should ever class them together.
had no better fortune. The Mourning Bride   We do not mean, however, altogether to
of Congreve, the Revenge of Young, and the deny, that there may be some illusion, in our
Douglas of Home [we cannot add the Mys- habitual feelings as to the merits of the great
terious Mother of Walpole-even to please originals-consecrated as they are, in our
Lord Byron], are almost the only tragedies of imaginations,- by early admiration, and assothe last age that are familiar to the present; ciated, as all their peculiarities, and the mere
and they are evidently the works of a feebler accidents and oddities of their diction now
and more effeminate generation-indicating, are, with the recollection of their intrinsic exas much by their exaggerations as by their cellences.  It is owing to this, we suppose,
timidity, their own consciousness of inferiority that we can scarcely venture to ask ourselves,
to their great predecessors-whom  they af- steadily, and without an inward startling and
fected, however, not to imitate, but to supplant. feeling of alarm, what reception one of ShakeBut the native taste of our people was not spearers irregular plays-the Tempest for exthus to be seduced and perverted; and when ample, or the Midsummer Night's Dreamthe wits of Queen Anne's time had lost the would be likely to meet with, if it were now
authority of living authors, it asserted itself to appear for the first time, without name,
by a fond recurrence to its original standards, notice, or preparation? Nor can we pursue
and a resolute neglect of the more regular the hazardous supposition through all the posand elaborate dramas by which they had been sibilities to which it invites us, without somesucceeded.  Shakespeare, whom it had long thing like,a sense of impiety and profanation.
been the fashion to decry and even ridicule, Yet, though some little superstition may minas the poet of a rude and barbarous age*. was gle with our faith, we must still believe it to
reinstated in his old supremacy: and when be the true one. Though time may have
his legitimate progeny could no longer be hallowed many things that were at first but
found at home, his spurious issue were hailed common, and accidental associations imparted
with rapture from foreign countries, and in- a charm to much that was in itself indifferent,
vited and welcomed with the most eager we cannot but believe that there was an origenthusiasm  on their arrival.  The German inal sanctity, which time only matured and
* It is not a little    a manc extended-and an inherent charm from which
It is not a little remarkable to find such a man the-asscigatiaQaln.erived all its power. And
as Goldsmith joining in this pitiful sneer. In his when we look candidly andcalrly to the
Vicar of Wakefield, he constantly represents his when we look candidly and calmly to the
famous town ladies, Miss Carolina Amelia Wilhel. works of our early dramatists, it is impossible,
mina Skeggs, and the other, as discoursing about we think, to dispute, that after criticism has
"high life, Shakespeare, and the musical glasses!" done its worst on them —after all deductions
-And, in a more serious passage, he introduces a for impossible plots and fantastical characters,
player as astonishing the Vicar, by informing him        forms of speech, and occasional
that "Dryden and Rowe's manner were quite out
of fashion-our taste has gone back a whole century; extravagance, indelicacy, and horrors-there
Fletcher, Ben Jonsoh, and, above all, the plays of is a facility and richness about them, both of
Shakespeare, are the only things that go down.' thought and of diction-a force of invention
"How!" says the Vicar, "is it possible that the and a depth of sagacity-an originality o?
present age can be pleased with that antiquated dia- conception, and a play of fancy —a nakedness
lect, that obsolete humour, and those overcharged and energy of passion, and above all, a cociaracters which abound in the works you men-anu energy of passionm and above all a cos
tion I" No writer of name, who was not aiming at piousness of imagery, and a sweetness and
Qparadox, would vepture to say this now     flexibility of verse, which is altogether unri



318                                  POETRYtl
valled, in earlier or in later times;-and places excessive simplicity. It is in vain to expect the
them, in our estimation, in the very highest praises of such people; for they never praise;
and foremost place among ancient or modern -and it is truly very little worth while to
poets.                                    disarm their censure. It is only the praises
It is in these particulars that the inferiority of the real lovers of poetry that ever give it
of their recent imitators is most apparent-in  true fame or popularity-and these are little
the want of ease and variety —originality and affected by the cavils of the fastidious. Yet
grace. There is, in all their attempts, what- the genius of most modern writers seems to
ever may be their other merits or defects, an be rebuked under that of those pragmatical
air of anxiety and labour-and indications, by and insignificant censors. They are so much
far too visible, at. once of timidity and arrm'bi- afraid of faults, that they will scarcely venture
tion. This may arise, in part, from the fact upon beauties; and seem more anxious in
of their being, too obviously and consciously, general to be safe, than original. They dare
imitators. They do not aspire so much to not indulge in a florid and magnificent way of
rival the genius of their originals, as to copy writing, for-fear of being charged with bomtheir manner. They do not write as they bastby the cold-blooded and malignant. They
would have written in the present day, but as must not be tender, lest they should be laughthey imagine they themselves would have ed at for puling and whining; nor discursive
written two hundred years ago. They revive and fanciful like their great predecessors,
the antique phraseology, repeat the venerable under pain of being held out to derision, as
oaths, and emulate the quaint familiarities of ingenious gentlemen who have dreamed that
that classical period-and wonder that they the gods have made them poetical!
are not mistaken for new incarnations of its   Thus, the dread of ridicule, which they
departed poets! One great cause why they have ever before their eyes, represses all the
are not, is, that they speak an unnatural dia- emotions, on the expression of which their
lect, and are constrained by a masqueiade success entirely depends; and in order to
habit; in neither of which it is possible to escape the blame of those to whom they can
display that freedom, and those delicate traits give no pleasure, and through whom they can
of character. which are the life of the drama, gain no fame, they throw away their best
and were among the chief merits of those who chance of pleasing those who are capable of
once exalted it so highly. Another bad effect relishing their excellences, and on whose adof imitation, and especially of the imitation miration alone their reputation must at all
of unequal and irregular models in a critical events be founded. There is a great want of
age, is, that nothing is thought fit to be copied magnanimity, we think, as well as of wisdom,
but the exquisite and shining passages;-  in this sensitiveness to blame; and we are
from which it results, in the first place, that convinced that no modern author will ever
all our rivalry is reserved for occasions in write with the grace and vigour of the older
which its success is most hopeless; and, in ones, who does not write with some portion
the second place, that instances, even of occa- of their fearlessness and indifference to censional success, want their proper grace and sure. Courage, in short, is at least as neceseffect, by being deprived of the relief, shading, sary as genius to the success of a work of
and preparation, which they would naturally imagination; since, without this, it is imhave received in a less fastidious composition; possible to attain that freedom and self-pos.
and, instead of the warm and native and ever- session, without which no talents can ever
varying graces of a spontaneous effusion, the have fair play. and, far less, that inward conwork acquires the false and feeble brilliancy fidence and exaltation of spirit which must
of a prize essay in a foreign tongue-a collec- accompany all the higher acts of the u.er.
tion of splendid patches of different texture standing. The earlier writers had probably
and pattern.                              less occasion for courage to secure them these
At the bottom of all this-and perhaps as advantages; as the public was far less critical
its most efficient cause-there lurks, we sus- in their day, and much more prone to admirapect, an unreasonable and undue dread of tion than to derision: But we can still trace
criticism; —not the deliberate and indulgent in their writings the indications both of a
criticism which we exercise, rather for the proud consciousness of their own powers and
encouragement of talent than its warning-  privileges, and of a brave contempt for tne
but the vigilant and paltry derision which is cavils to which they might expose themperpetually stirring in idle societies, and but selves. In our own times, we know but one
too continually present to the spirits of all who writer who is emancipated from this slavish
aspire to their notice. There is nothing so awe of vulgar detraction-this petty timidity
certain, we take it, as that those who are the about being detected in blunders and faults
most alert in discovering the faults of a work and that is the illustrious author of Waverley,
of genius, are the least touched with its beau- and the other novels that have made an era
ties. Those who admire and enjoy fine poetry, in our literature as remarkable, and as likely/
in short, are quite a different class of persons to be remembered, as any which can yet by
from those who find out its flaws and defects traced in its history. We shall not now say
-who are sharp at detecting a plagiarism or how large a portion of his success we ascribe
a grammatical inaccuracy, and laudably in- to this intrepid temper of his genius; but we
dustrious in bringing to light an obscure pas- are confident that no person can read any one
sage-sneering at an exaggerated one-or of his wonderful works without feeling that
wondering at the meaning of some piece of their author fvas utterly careless of the re.




LORD BYRON'S TRAGEDIES.                              319
proach of small imperfections; disdained the   As Plays, we are afraid we must also say
inglorious labour of perpetual correctness, and that the pieces before us are wanting in inter.
has consequently imparted to his productions est, character, and action:-at least we must
that spirit and ease and variety, which re- say this of the three last of them-for there is
minds us of better times, and gives lustre and interest in Sardanapalus-and beauties beeffect to those rich and resplendent passages sides, that make us blind to its other defects.
to which it left him free to aspire.      There is, however, throughout, a want of
Lord Byron, in some respects, may appear dramatic effect and variety; and we suspect
not to have been wanting in intrepidity. He there is something in the character or habit\
has not certainly been very tractable to ad- of Lord Byron's genius which will render this
vice, nor very patient of blame. But this, in unattainable. He has too little sympathy with
him, we fear, is not superiority to censure, the ordinary feelings and frailties of humanity,
but aversion to it; and, instead of proving to succeed well in their representation —" His
that he is indifferent to detraction, shows soul is like a stars and dwells apart.2' It does
only, that the dread and dislike of it operate not "hold the mirror up to nature," nor catch
with more than common force on his mind. the hues of surrounding objects; but, like a
A critic, whose object was to give pain, would kindled furnace, throws out its intense glare
desire no better proof of the efficacy of his in- and gloomy grandeur on the narrow scene
flictions, than the bitter scorn and fierce de- which it irradiates. He has given us, in his
fiance with which they are encountered; and other works, some glorious pictures of nature
the more vehemently the noble author pro- -some magnificent reflections, and some intests that he despises the reproaches that imitable delineations of character: But the
have been bestowed on him, the more certain same feelings prevail in them all; and his
it is that he suffers from their severity, and portraits in particular, though a little varied
would be glad to escape, if he cannot over- in the drapery and attitude, seem all copied
bear, them. But however this may be, we from the same original. His Childe Harold
think it is certain that his late drajatic efforts his Giaour, Conrad, Lara, Manfred, Cain, and
have not been made carelessly, or without Lucifer-are all one individual. There is the
anxiety. To us, at least, they seem very. elab- same varnish of voluptuousness on the surorate and hard-~wrou ~ht co mrositmlo;ns}'-d face-the same canker of misanthropy at the
this ineid-we  ta-ke to hb-e their leading char- core, of all he touches. He cannot draw the
acteristic, and the key to most of their pe- changes of many-coloured life, nor transport
culiarities.                              himself into the condition of the infinitely diConsidered as Poems, we confess they ap- versified characters by whom a stage should
pear to us to be rather heavy, verbose, and be peopled. The very intensity of his feelinelegant-deficient in th'e passi6fion'ad -'nehrgy ings-the loftiness of his views-the pride of
which berongs to the other writings of the his nature or his genius-withhold him from
noble author-and still more in the richness this identification; so that in personating the
of imageryr the originality of thought, and heroes of the scene, he does little but repeat
the sweetness of versification for which he himself.  It would be better for him, we
used to be distinguished. They are for the think, if it were otherwise. We are sure it
most part s9oem,.n pro!i x,.and   ostentatious-<  would be better for his readers. He would
lengthened out by large preparations for catas- get more fame, and things of far more worth
trophes that never arrive, and tantalizing us than fame, if he would condescend to a more
with slight specimens and glimpses of a extended and cordial sympathy with his felhigher interest, scattered thinly up and down low-creatures: and we should have more
many weary pages of declamation. Along variety of fine poetry, and, at all events, betwith the concentrated pathos and homestruck ter tragedies. We have no business to read
sentiments of his former poetry, the noble him a homily on the sinfulness of pride and
author seems also, we cannot imagine why, uncharity; but we have a right to say, that
to have discarded the spirited and melodious it argues a poorness of genius to keep always
versification in which they were embodied, to the same topics and persons; and that the
and to have formed to himself a measure world will weary at last of the most energetic
equally remote from the spring and vigour of pictures of misanthropes and madmen —outhis former compositions, and from the soft- laws and their mistresses!
ness and flexibility of the ancient masters of   A man gifted as he is, when he aspires at
the drama. There are some sweet lines, and dramatic fame, should emulate the greatest
many of great weight and energy; but the of dramatists. Let Lord Byron then think
general march of the verse is cumbrous and of Shakespeare-and consider what a noble
unmusical.  His lines do not vibrate like range of character, what a freedom from manpolished lances, at once strong and light, in nerism  and egotism, there is in him! How
the hands of his persons, but — arwiel1e-1ike much he seems to have studied nature; how'
elumsy batans.4a.aloodles-affray. Instead little to have thought about himself; how
of the graceful familiarity and idiomatical seldom to have repeated or glanced back at
melodies of Shakespeare, they are apt, too, to his own most successful inventions! Why
fall into clumsy prose, in their approaches to indeed should he? Nature was still open
the easy and colloquial style; and, in the before him, and inexhaustible; and the freshloftier passages, are occasionally deformed by ness and variety Tat still delight his readers,
low and common images, that harmonize but must have had constant atractions for himill with the generat solemnity of the diction.  self.  Take his Hamlet, for instance. What




320                                  POETRY.
a character is there!-how  full of thought spirit of the drama-if he has no hankeling
and refinement, and fancy and individuality! after stage-effect-if he is not haunted with
"How infinite in faculties! In form  and the visible presentment of the persons he has
motion how express and admirable!  The created-if, in setting down a vehement inbeauty of the universe, the paragon of ani- vective, he does not fancy the tone in which
mals!" Yet close the play, and we meet wit  Mr. Kean would deliver it, and anticipate the
him  no more-neither inthe autho-s other long applauses of the pit, then he may be
worksi nor any where else!  A  common sure that neither his feelings nor his genius
uthor wh — had hit upon such a character, are in unison with the stage at all. Why,
would have dragged it in at every turn, and then, should he affect the form, without the
worn it to very tatters. Sir John Falstaff  power of tragedy?  He may, indeed, produce
again, is a world of wit and humour in him- a mystery like Cain, or a far sweeter visionr
self. But except in the two parts of Henry like Manfred. without subjecting himself to(
IV., there would have neen no trace of such the censure of legitimate criticism: But if,
a being, had not the author been "ordered with a regular subject before him, capable of
to continue him"' in the Merry Wives of all the strength and graces of the drama, he
Windsor. He is not the least like Benedick, does not feel himself able or willing to draw
or Mercutio, or Sir Toby Belch, or any of the forth its resources so as to affect an audience
other witty and jovial personages of the same with terror and delight, he is not the man we
author-norare they like each other. Othello want —and his time and talents are wasted
is one of the most striking and powerful in- here. Didactic reasoning and eloquent deventions on the stage. But when the play scription will not compensate, in a play,, for a
closes, we hear no more of him! The poet's dearth of dramatic spirit and invention: pac)
creation comes no more to life again, under a besides, sterling sense and poetry, as s;,b
fictitious name, than the real man would have ought to stand by themselves, without the
done. Lord Byron in Shakespeare's place. unmeaning mockery of a dramatis personlce.
would have peopled the world with black   As to Lord Byron's pretending to set up the
Othellos! What indications are there of Lear tUnities at this time of day, as "the law of
in any of his earlier plays? What traces of literature throughout the world," it is mere
it in any that he wrote afterwards? None. It caprice and contradiction. He, if ever man
might have been written by any other man, was, is a law to himself-"a chartered liberhe is so little conscious of it. He never once tine;"-and now, when he is tired of this
returns to that huge sea of sorrow; but has unbridled licence. he wants to do penance
left it standing by itself, shoreless and un- within the Unities! This certainly looks very
approachable! Who else could have afforded like affectation; or, if there is any thing sinnot to have "drowned the stage with tears" cere in it, the motive must be, that. by getfrom such a source? But we must break ting rid of so much story and action, in order
away from Shakespeare, and come at last to to simplify the plot and bring it within the
the work before us.                       prescribed limits, he may fill up the blank
In a very brief preface, Lord Byron renews spaces with long discussions, and have nearly
his protest against looking upon any of his all the talk to himself! For ourselves, we
plays, as having been composed "with the will confess that we have had a considerable
most remote view to the stage " —and. at the contempt for those same Unities, ever since
same time, testifies in behalf of the Unities, we read Dennis' Criticism  on Cato in our
as essential to the existence of the drama-  boyhood-except indeed the unity of action,
according to what "was, till lately, the law  which Lord Byron does not appear to set
of literature throughout the world, and is still much store by. Dr. Johnson, we conceive,
B, in the more civilised parts of it."  We has pretty well settled this question: and if
do not think those opinions very consistent.; Lord Byron chooses to grapple with him, he
and we think that neither of them could pos- will find that it requires a stronger arm than
sibly find favour with a person whose genius that with which he puts down our Laureates.
had a truly dramatic character. We should We shall only add, that when the moderns
as soon expect an orator to compose a speech tie themselves down to write tragedies of the
altogether unfit to be spoken. A drama is same length, and on the same simple plan, in
not merely a dialogue, but an action: and other respects, with those of Sophocles and
necessarily supposes that something is to Eschylus, we shall not object to their adherpass before the eyes of assembled spectators. ing to the Unities; for there can, in that case,
Whatever is peculiar to its written part, be no sufficient inducement for violating them.
should derive its peculiarity from this con- But, in the mean time, we hold that Exnglish
sideration. Its style should be throughout dramaatitrJyso ars above the Un i
an accompaniment to action-and should be the ima gnation does. The only pretence for
calculated to excite the emotions, and keep inis tmg on them  is, that we suppose the
alive the attention, of gazing multitudes. If stage itself to be, actually and really, the
an author does not bear this continually in very spot on which a given action is peform
his mind, and does not write in the ideal ed; and, if so, this space cannot be removed
presence of an eager and diversified assem- to another. But the supposition is manifestly
blage, he may be a poet perhaps, but as- quite contrary to truth and experience. The
suredly he never will bP a dramatist. If stage is considered merely as a place in which
Lord Byron really does not wish to impreg- any given action ad libitum may be performiate his elaborate scenes with the living ed; and accordingly may be shifted, and is




LORD BYRON'S TRAGEDIES, -                                 ll
so in imagination, as often as the action re- and he goes forth, from  the banquet tg(1tAb
qumres it. That any writer should ever have battle, as to a dance or measure, attired by
insisted on such an unity as this, must appear the Graces, and with youth, joy, and love for
sufficiently preposterous; but, that the defence his guides.  He dailies with Bellona as her
of it should be taken up by an author whose bridegroom-for his sport and pastime; and
plays are never to be acted at all, and which  the spear or fan, the shield or shining mirror,
therefore, have nothing more than a nominal become his hands equally well.  He enjoys
reference to any stage or locality whatever, life, in short, and triumphs over death; and
must strike one as absolutely incredible.     whether in prosperous or adverse circumIt so happens, however, that the disadvan- stances, his soul smiles out superior to evil.
tage, and, in truth, absurdity of sacrificing The Epicurean philosophy of Sardanapalus
higher objects to a formality of this kind, is gives him  a fine opportunity, in his conferstrikingly displayed in one of these dramas-  ences with his stern and confidential adviser,
THE Two FoSCARI. The whole interest here Salemenes, to contrast his own imputed and
turns upon the younger of them  having re- fatal vices of ease and love of pleasure with
turned from  banishment, in defiance of the the boasted virtues of his predecessors, War
law and its consequences, from an unconquer- and Conquest; and we may as well begin
able longing after his native country.  Now, with a short specimen of this characteristic
the only way to have made this sentiment discussion.  Salemenes is brother to the nepalpable, the practicable foundation of stu- glected queen; and the controversy originates
pendous sufferings, would have been, to have in the monarch's allusion to her.
presented him to the audience wearing out
his heart in exile-and forming his resolution    "Sard. Thou think'st that I have wrong'd the
to return, at a distance from  his country, or        queen: is't not so?
hovering, in excruciating suspense, within   Sale. Think! Thou hast wrong'd her!
Sard.           Patience, prince, and hear me,
sight of its borders.  We might then have   Sard.               Patience, prnce, and hear me,
caught some glimpse of the nature of his She hasall power and splendour of her station,
motives, and of so extraordinary a character. Resphect, the tut appa nage of s overi eignty
But as this would have been contrary to one I married her, as monarchs wed-for state,
of the Unities, we first meet with him led from  And loved her, as most husbands love their wives.
"the Question," and afterwards taken back  If she or thou supposedst I could link me
to it in the Ducal Palace, or clinging to the Like a Chaldean peasant to his mate,
dungeon-walls of his native city, and expiring  Ye knew nor me, nor monarchs, nor mankind.
from  his dread of leaving them; and  her-   Sale. I pray thee, change the theme; my blood
from his dread of leaving them; and t here-          disdains
fore feel more wonder than sympathy, when  Complaint, and Salemenes' sister seeks not
we are told in a Jeremiad of wilful lamenta- Reluctant love, even from Assyria's lord!
tions, that these agonising consequences have Nor would she deign to accept divided passion
resulted, not from guilt or disaster, but merely  With foreign strumpets and lonian slaves.
y  The queen is silent.
from the intensity of his love for his country.   Sard.          And why not her brother t
But we must now look at the other Trage-   Sale. I only echo thee the voice of empires,
dies; and on turning again to SARDANAPALUS, Which he who long neglects not long will govern.
we are half inclined to repent of the severity   Sard. The ungrateful and ungracious slaves!
of some of our preceding remarks, or to own           they murmur
at least that they are not strictly applicable  Because I have not shed their blood, nor led them
to this performance. It is a work beyond all To dry into the desert's dust by myriads,
o          this performance. It is a  work beyond  Or whiten with their bones the banks of Ganges;
question of great beauty and,..,Dr.y and  Nor decimated them with savage laws,
though the heroine htas many traits in com- Nor sweated them to build up pyramids,
mon with the Medoras and Gulnares of Lord  Or Babylonian walls.
Byron's undramatic poetry, the hero must be   Sale.               Yet these are trophies
allowed tQAbe~a.  new-cha me. Lexr —nt;ls;nds.' More worthy of a people and their prince,Hehas, indeed, the scorn o f war, and glory, Than songs, and lutes, and feasts, and concubines,
He —has, indeed, the scorn of war, and glory, And lavish'd treasures, and contemned virtues.
and priesteraft, and regular morality, which   Sard. Oh! for my trophies I have founded citiesI
distinguishes the rest of his Lordship's favour- There's Tarsus and Anchialus, both built
ites; but he has no misanthropy, and very In one day-what could that blood-loving beclame,
little pride-and may be regarded, on the  My martial grandam, chaste Semiramis,
whole, as one of the most truly good-hu- Do more-except destroy them?
Sale.'Tis most re
moured, amiable, and respectable ooluptuaries  I own thy merit in those founded cities,
to whom we have ever been presented.  In Built for a whim, recorded with averse
this conception of his character, the author Which shames both them and thee to coming ages
has very wisely followed nature and fancy   Sard. Shame me! By Baal, the cities, though
rather than history.  His Sardanapalus is not        well built,
In  eeinte   onwAre not more goodly than the verse! Say what
an effeminate, worn-out debauchee, with shat- Thou wilt against the truth of that brief record,
tered nerves and exhausted senses, the slave Why, those few lines contain.the history
of indolence and vicious habits; but a san- Of all things human; hear-' Sardanapalue
guine votary of pleasure, a princely epicure, The king, and Son of Anacyndaraxes,
indulging, revelling in boundless luxury while In one day built Anchialus and Tarsus.
he can, but with a soul so inured to volup- Eat, drink, and love! the rest's not worth a fillip.
tuoune, ss, so satur     wt  dights, that   Sale. A worthy moral, and a wise inscription,
tuousness so saturated with delightsn that For a king to put up before his subjects!
pain and dangerh  when they come uncalled   Sard. Oh, thou wouldst have me doubtless so
for, give him  neither concern nor dread;            up edicts21




822                                      POETRY.
Obey the king-contribute to his treasure —.llyr. Fear!-I'm  a Greek, and how should I
Recruit his phalanx-spill your blood at bidding-      fear death?
Fall down and worship, or get up and toil.'   A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom?
Or thus-' Sardanapalus on this spot             Sard. Then wherefore dost thou turn so pale?
Slew fifty thousand of his enemies..lIyr.                              I loveThese are their sepulchres, and this his trophy.'  Sard. And do not I? I love thee far-far more
I leave such things to conquerors; enough     Than either the brief life or the wide realm,
For me, if I can make my subjects feel        Which, it may be, are menaced: yet I blanch not.
The weight of human misery less, and glide      llIyr.             When he who is their ruler
Ungroaning to the tomb; I take no licence     Forgets himself, will they remember him?
Which I deny to them. We all are men.           Sard. Myrrha!
Sale. Thy sires have been revered as gods-     M1yr. Frown not upon me: you have smiled
Sard.                               In dust Too often on me, not to make those frowns
And death-where they are neither gods nor men. Bitterer to bear than any punishment
Talk not of such to me! the worms are gods;  Which they may augur.-King, I am your subject!
At least they banqueted upon your gods,       Master, I am your slave! Man, I have loved you!And died for lack of farther nutriment.       Loved you, I know not by what fatal weakness,
Those gods were merely men; look to their issue-  Although a Greek, and born a foe to monarchs.I feel a thousand mortal things about me,     A slave, and hating fetters-an Ionian,
But nothing godlike-unless it may be          And, therefore, when I love a stranger, more
The thing which you condemn, a disposition    Degraded by that passion than by chains!
To love and to be merciful; to pardon         Still I have loved you. If that love were strong
The follies of my species, and (that's human)  Enough to overcome all former nature,'To be indulgent to my own."-pp. 18-21.        Shall it not claim the privilege to save you!
Sard. Save me, my beauty! Thou art very fair
But the chief charm and vivifying angel of And what I seek of thee is love-not safety.
the piece is MYRRHA, the Greek slave of Sar-   Miyr. And without love where dwells security f
danapalus-a beautiful, heroic. devoted, and    Sard. I speak of woman's love.
ethereal being-in love with the generous   lIyr.                               The very first
and infatuated monarch- ashamed of loving  Of human life must spring from woman's breast;
Your first small words are taught you from her lips,
a barbarian —and using all her influence over Your first tears quench'd by her, and your last
him to ennoble as well as to adorn his exist-         sighs
ence, and to arm him  against the terrors of  Too often breathed out in a woman's hearing,
its close.  Her voluptuousness is that of the  When men have shrunk from the ignoble care
heart-her heroism of the affections.  If the  Of watching the last hour of him who led them.
part she takes in the dialogue be sometimes   Sard. My eloquent Ionian! thou speak'st music!
too subdued and submissive for     The very chorus of the tragic song
too subdued and submissive for the  lofty I have heard thee talk of as the favourite pastime
daring of her character, it is still such as Of thy far father-land. Nay, weep not-calm thee.
might become a Greek slave —a lovely Ionian    Miyr. I weep not-But I pray thee, do not speak
girl, in whom  the love of liberty and the About my fathers, or their land!
scorn of death, was tempered by the con-   Sard.                              Yet oft
sciousness of what she regarded as a degrading Thou speakest of them.
aeof fitness and    iyr.        True-true! constant thought
passion, and an inward sense of fitness and  Will overflow in words unconsciously;
decorum with reference to her condition. The  But when another speaks of Greece, it wounds me.
development of this character jand its con-   Sard. Well, then, how wouldst thou save me, as
sequences form so material a part of the play,        thou saidst?                [founders.
that most of the citations with which we shall    lIyr. Look  to the annals of thine empire's
illustrate our abstract of it will be found to     cannot.            te         d over with blood, I
bear upon it.                                 But what wouldst have? the empire has been found.
Salemenes, in the interview to which we I cannot go on multiplying empires.
have just alluded, had driven "the Ionian    SIyr. Preserve thine own.
minion" from the royal presence by his re-   Sard.                     At least I will enjoy it
proaches.  After his departure, the Monarch  Come, Myrrha, let us on to the Euphrates;
again recalls his favourite, and reports to her The hour invites, the galley is prepared,
again recalls his favourite, and reports to her And the pavilion, deck'd for our return,
the warning he had received.  Her answer In fit adornment for the evening banquet,
lets us at once into the nobleness and delicacy  Shall blaze with beauty and with light, until
of her character.                             It seems unto the stars which are above us
Itself an opposite star; and we will sit
" _3yr. He did well.                        Crown'd with fresh flowers like —
Sard.              And say'st thou so?.    Mlyr.         Victims.
Thou whom he spurn'd so harshly, and now dared   Sard.                   No, like sovereigns,
Drive from our presence with his savage jeers,    The shepherd kings of patriarchal times,
And made thee weep and blush?                Who knew no brighter gems than summer wreaths.
Mlyr,                        I should do both And none but tearless triumphs. Let us on."
More frequently! and he did well to call me                                   pp. 31-36.
Back to my duty. But thou spakest of peril —
Peril to thee-                                  The second act, which contains the details
Sard.       Ay, from dark plots and snares    of the conspiracy of Arbaces, its detection by
From Medes-and discontented troops and nations. the vigilance of Salaenesand the too ra
I know not what-a labyrinth of things-        the            f Salamene    nd the too ra
A maze of mutter'd threats and mysteries:     and hasty fogiveness of thi  rebels by the
Thou know'st the man-it is his usual custom.    King, is. on thy whole, heavy   d uninterestBut he is honest. Come, we'll think no more on't-  ing.  Early in the third act, t   royal ban.But of the midnight festival.                 quet is disturbed by sudden tidi s of treMr                     tis. T  time
To tn of aught save festivals   Thou hat not   son and revolt; and then the reveler blazes
~purn'd hissage cautions?          out into the hero, and the Greek'lood of
purd             Whathis-anddostthoufear? sage cautions               proper office!  The,ord.          What f —and dost thou fear I   Myrrhs mounts to its proper offcel  The




LORD BYRON'S TRAGEDIES.                                  323
following passages are striking. A messenger   Sale.          Herding with the other females
says,                                        Like frighten'd antelopes.
Sard.                No' Like the dam
"Prince Salemenes doth implore the king    Of the young lion, femininely raging,
To arm himself, although but for a moment,   She urged on, with her voice and gesture, and
And show himself unto the soldiers: his      Her floating hair and flashing eyes, the soldiers
Sole presence in this instant might do more  In the pursuit.
Than hosts can do in his behalf.               Sale.      Indeed!
Sard.                      What, ho!        Sard.               You see, this night
My armour there.                             Made warriors of more than me. I paused
Mlyr.          And wilt thou?             To look upon her, and her kindled cheek;
Sard.                         Will I not?  Her large black eyes, that flash'd through her
Ho, there!-But seek not for the buckler;'tis      long hair
Too heavy:-a light cuirass and my sword.     As it stream'd o'er her; her blue veins that rose
Myr. How I do love thee!                  Along her most transparent brow; her nostril
Sard.                    I ne'er doubted it.  Dilated from is symmetry; her lips
Myr. But now I know thee.                  Apart; her voice that clove through all the din,
Sard. (arming himself)                     As a lute's pierceth through the cymbal's clash,
Give me the culrass —so: my baldric! now    Jarr'd but not drown'd by the loud brattling; her
My sword: I had forgot the helm, where is it?    Waved arms, more dazzling with their own born
That's well-no,'tis too heavy: you mistake, too-   whiteness
It was not this I meant, but that which bears  Than the steel her hand held, which she caught up
A diadem around it.                          From a dead soldier's grasp; all these things made
Sfero.           Sire, I deem'd            Her seem unto the troops a prophetess
That too conspicuous from the precious stones  Of victory, or Victory herself
To risk your sacred brow beneath-and, trust me, Come down to hail us hers.
This is of better metal though less rich.      Sale. (in retiring.)    Myrrha!
Sard. You deem'd! Are you too turn'd a rebel?   Myr. Prince.
Fellow!                               Sale.       You have shown a soul to-night,
Your part is to obey: return, and-no-        Which, were he not my sister's lord-But now
It is too late-I will go forth without it.   I have no time: thou lov'st the king?
Sfero. At least wear this.                  1Myr.                            I love
Sard.             Wear Caucasus! why,'tis Sardanapalus.
A mountain on my temples.                      Sale.       But wouldst have him king still?
Myrrha, retire unto a place of safety.         Myr. I would not have him less than what he
Why went you not forth with the other damsels?     should be.
Ml~yr. Because my place is here.             Sale. Well, then, to have him king, and yours,
I dare all things      and all
Except survive what I have loved, to be      He should, or should not be; to have him live,
A rebel's booty: forth, and do your bravest."  Let him not sink back into luxury.
pp. 85-89.   You have more power upon his spirit than
Wisdom within these walls, or fierce rebellion
The noise of the conflict now reaches her Raging without: look well that he relapse not.
in doubtful clamour; aid a soldier comes in,                             [Exit SALEMENES.
of whom she asks how the King bears him-   Sard. Myrrha! what, at whispers
self-and is answered,                        With my stern brother? I shall soon be jealous.
Myr. (smiling.) You have cause, sire; for on the
" Alt.       Like a king. I must find Sfero,      earth there breathes not
And bring him a new spear and his own helmet.   A man more worthy of a woman's loveHe fights till now bare-headed, and by far   A soldier's trust-a subject's reverenceToo much exposed. The soldiers knew his face,  A king's esteem-the whole world's admiration!
And the foe too; and in the moon's broad light,  Sard. Praise him, but not so warmly. I must not
His silk tiara and his flowing hair          Hear those sweet lips grow eloquent in aught
Make him a mark too royal. Every arrow       That throws me into the shade; yet you speak
Is pointed at the fair hair and fair features,      truth."-pp. 100-105.
And the broad fillet which crowns both.
The king! the king fights as he revels.        After this, there is an useless and unnatural
Mqlyr.'Tis no dishonour-no- scene with the Queen, whose fondness her'Tis no dishonour! to have loved this man.   erring husband meets with great kindness
I almost wish now, what 1 never wish'd
I alinost wish now, what I never wish'd      and remorse. It is carefully, but rather tediBefore, that he were Grecian. If Alcides
Were shamed in wearing Lydian Omphale's      ouslywritten; and ends, a great de'iraf-o5i6g
She-garb, and wielding her vile distaff; surely  after it ought to have ended, by Salemenes
He, who springs up a Hercules at once,       carrying off his sister in a fit.
Nurs'd in effeminate arts from youth to manhood,    The fifth act gives, rather languidly, the
And rushes from the banquet to the battle,   consummation of the rebellion.  Salemenes
As though it were a bed of love, deserves   is slain and
That a Greek girl should be his paramour,   is slain; and the King, in spite of a desperate
And a Greek bard his tninstrel, a Greek tomb  resistance, driven back to his palace and its
His monument!"-pp. 92, 93.                  gardens. He then distributes his treasure to
his friends, and forces them to erm'bark on the
Soon after, she rushes out in agony to meet river, which is still open for their escape;
the fate that seemed impending.  The King, only requiring, as the last service of his faithhowever, by his daring valour, restores the ful veterans, that they should build up a huge
fortune of the fight; and returns, with all his pile of combustiblesaround the throne in his
train, to the" palace. The scene that ensues presence-chamber aind leave him there with
is very masterly and characteristic.  Turning Myrrha alone; and commanding them, when
to Myrrha-                                   they had cleared the city with their galleys,
"Know'st thou, my brother, where I lighted on   to sound their trumpets as a signal of safety.
This minion I                                We shall close our extracts with a few frag




324                                    POETRY.
ments of the final scene. This is his fare-   Having gone so much at length into this
well to the troops.                          drama, which we take to be much the best in
" Sard.         My best! my last friends!   the volume, we may be excused for saying
Let's not unman each other-part at once:    little of the others.  ",The two Foscari,' we
All farewells should be sudden, when for ever,    thinkI is a failure. Th~e in'est-is*-fffiii6
Else they make an eternity of moments,
And clog the last sad sands of life with tears.  o ee    o   pel   o  ver         e  s
Hence, and be happy: trust me, I am not      to engage no  sympathy; and the whole story
Now to be pitied; or far more for what       turns on incidents that are neither pleasing
Is past than present;-for the future,'tis  nor natural. The Younger Foscari undergoes
In the hands of the deities, if such  [well. the rack twice (once in the hearing of the
There be: I shall know soon. Farewell-fare- audience). merely because he has chosen to
[Exeunt PANIA and Soldiers. feign himself a traitor, that he might be
Myr. These men were honest: It is comfort still   isf   ro         rt        h
That our last looks should be on loving faces. [me! brought back from undeserved banishment,
Sard. And lovely ones, my beautiful!-but hear and dies at last of pure dotage on this sentiIf at this moment, for we now are on         ment; while the Elder Foscari submits, in
The brink, thou feel'st an inward shrinking from   profound and immovable silence, to this treatThis leap through flame into the future, say it:    ment of his son, lest, by seeming to feel for
I shall'not love thee less; nay, perhaps more,  his unhappy fate, he should be implicated in
For yielding to thy nature: and there's time  his guilt-though he is supposed guiltless.
Yet for thee to escape hence.
1l1yr.                   Shall I light       The I" Marino Faliero"-though rather more
One of the torches which lie heap'd beneath  vigorously written-is scarcely more successThe ever-burning lamp that burns without,    ful. The story, in so far as it is original in
Before Baal's shrine, in the adjoining hall?  our drama, is extremely improbable; though,
Sard. Do so. Is that thy answer            like moother very improbable stories
Mlyr.         Thou shalt see."-pp. 162, 163mprobable stories de
rived from  authentic sources: But, in the
There is then a long invocation to the main, it is not original-being indeed merely
shades of his ancestors; at the end of which, another ]Yenic  P reserved; and continually
Myrrha returns with a lighted torch and a recalling, though c'ertai'n;y without eclipsing,
cup of wine-and says,                       the memory of the first.  Except that Jaffier
"Lo!          is driven to join the conspirators by the natuI've lit the lamp which lights us to the stars.  ral impulse of love and misery, and the Doge
Sard. And the cup?                        by a resentment so outrageous as to exclude
Malyr.'Tis my country's custom to all sympathy —and that the disclosure, which
Make a libation to the gods.
Sard.                  And mine            is produced by love in the old play, is here
To make libations amongst men. I've not      ascribed (with less likelihood) to mere friendForgot the custom; and although alone,       ship, the general action and catastrophe of
Will drain one draught in memory of many    the two pieces are almost identical-while,
A joyous banquet past.                       with regard to the writing and management,
Yet pause,             it must be owned that, if Lord Byron has most
Freely and fearlessly? tlyflomesense and vigour, -wayls  yhfarthe  most.Myr.              And dost thou think     passion and pathos- and that though our new
A Greek girl dare not do for love, that which  consp-raoT —arse-tter orators and reasoners
An Indian widow braves for custom?          than the gang of Pierre and Reynault, the
Sard.                          Then        tenderness of Belvidera is as much more
We but await the signal.                    touching, as it is more natural than the stoical
In sounding.
In sounding.                                 and self-satisfied decorum of Angiolina. The
Sard.     Now, farewell; one last embrace.   abstract, or argument of the piece, is shortly
Myr. Embrace, but not the last; there is one as follows.
more.                         [ashes.   Marino Faliero Doge of Venice, and nearly
Sard. True, the commingling fire will mix our fourscore years of age, marries a oung beauty
3fyr.       Then farewell, thou earth! 
of the name of Angiolina —and, soon after
And loveliest spot of earth! farewell Ionia  of the name of Angiolina
Be thou still free and beautiful, and far    their union, a giddy young nobleman, whom
Aloof from desolation! My last prayer   [thee! he had had occasion to rebuke in public, sticks
Was for thee, my last thoughts, save one, were of up some indecent lines on his chair of state;
Sard. And that?                           purporting that he was the husband of a fair
trumpetofMyr.  Is yours.  ithouwife, whom he had the honour of keeping for
Sard. Hark!                    -           the benefit of others. The Doge having disMyr.         Now!                         covered the author of this lampoon, complains
Sard.               Adieu, Assyria!        of him to the Senate-who, upon proof of the
1 loved thee well, my own, my fathers' land,  charge, sentence him  to a month's confineAnd better as my country than my kingdom.    ment. The Doge  considering this as alto
I satiated thee with peace and joys; and this. T    D     
Is my rewardat  r! and now I owe thee nothing.  gether inadequate to the reparation of his inIs my reward! and now I owe thee nothing.
Not even a grave.         [Re mounts the pile. jured honour, immediately conceives a most
Now, Myrrha!                insane and unintelligible animosity at the
3M/yr.                     Art thou ready! whole body of the nobility-and, in spite of
Sard. As the torch in thy grasp.           the dignified example and gentle soothing of
[ryr.'Tt fires the pile. Angiolina, puts himself at the head of a conMyr.'Tis fired! I come.
[As MYRRHA springs forward to throw herself s    wiracy, which had just been organised for
itto theflames, the Curtain falls."   the overthrow of the government by certain
pp. 164-167.   plebeian malecontents, who had more sub.




LORD BYRON'S TRAGEDIES.                                  32s
tantial wrongs and grievances to complain of. a truth and a luxucaein the description of
One of the faction, however, had a friend in th-r6iut, which mark at once the hand of a
the Senate whom he wished to preserve; and master, and raise it to a very high rank as a
goes to him, on the eve of the insurrection, piece of poetical painting-while the moonwith words of warning, which lead to its light view from the window is equally grand
timely detection.  The Doge and his asso- and beautiful, and reminds us of those magciates are arrested and brought to trial; and  nificent and enchanting  lookings forth  in
the former, after a vain intercession from An- Manfred  which have left, we will confess,
giolina, who candidly admits the enormity of far deeper traces on our fancy, than any thing
his guilt, and prays only for his life, is led. in in the more elaborate work before us. Lioni
his ducal robes, to the place where he'was says,
first consecrated a sovereign, and there publicly decapitated by the hands of the execu-                           "-I will try
tioner.                                       Whether the air will calm my spirits:'tis
We can afford but a few specimens of the  A goodly night; the cloudy wind which blew
From the Levant has crept into its cave,   [ness!
execution.  The following passage, in which  And thle broad moon has brighten'd. What a stillthe ancient Doge, while urging his gentle                             [Goes to an open lattice.
spouse to enter more warmly into his resent- And what a contrast with the scene I left,
ment, reminds her of the motives that had  Where the tall torches' glare, and silver lamps'
led him to seek her alliance, (her father's re- More pallid gleam, along the tapestried walls,
quest, and his own desire to afford her orphan  Spread over the reluctant gloom which haunts
s     Those vast and dimly-latticed galleries
helplessness the highest and most unsuspect- A dazzling mass of artificial light, [&9.
ed protection,) though not perfectly dramatic, Which show'd all things, but nothing as they were,
has great sweetness and dignity; and reminds   The music, and the banquet, and the wineus, in its rich verbosity, of the moral and  The garlands, the rose odours, and the flowersmellifluous parts of Massinger.               The sparkling eyes and flashing ornaments —
The white arms and the raven hair-the braids
" Doge. For love, romantic love, which in my And bracelets; swanlike bosoms, and the necklace,
I knew to be illusion, and ne'er saw  [youth  An India in itself, yet dazzling not
Lasting, but often fatal, it had been         The eye like what it circled; the thin robes
No lure for me, in my most passionate days,   Floating like light clouds'twixt our gaze and heaven'
And could not be so now, did such exist.      The many-twinkling feet, so small and sylphlike,
But such respect, and mildly paid regard      Suggesting the more secret symmetry
As a true feeling for your welfare, and       Of the fair forms which terminate so well!
A free compliance with all honest wishes;     All the delusion of the dizzy scene,
A kindness to your virtues, watchfulness     Its false and true enchantments-art and nature,
Not shown, but shadowing o'er such little failings  Which swam before my giddy eyes, that drank
As youth is apt in, so as not to check        The sight of beauty as the parch'd pilgrim's
Rashly, but win you from them ere you knew    On Arab sands the false mirage, which offers
You had been won, but thought the change your A lucid lake to his eluded thirst,
choice;                               Are gone.-Around me are the stars and waters
A pride not in your beauty, but your conduct-    Worlds mirror'd in the ocean! goodlier sight
A trust in you —a patriarchal love,           Than torches glared back by a gaudy glass;
And not a doting homage-friendship, faith-    And the great element, which is to space
Such estimation in your eyes as these         What ocean is to earth, spreads its blue depths,
Might claim, I hoped for."-                   Soften'd with the first breathings of the spring;
" I trusted to the blood of Loredano          The high moon sails upon her beauteous way,
Pure in your veins; I trusted to the soul  [you-  Serenely smoothing o'er the lofty walls
God gave you-to the truths your father taught Of those tall piles and sea-girt palaces,
To your belief in heaven-to your mild virtues-   Whose porphyry pillars, and whose costly fronts,
To your own faith and honour, for my own.-    Fraught with the orient spoil of many marbles,
Where light thoughts are lurking, or the vanities   Like altars ranged along the broad canal,
Of worldly pleasure rankle in the heart,      Seem each a trophy of some mighty deed
Or sensual throbs convulse it, well I know    Rear'd up from out the waters, scarce less strangely'Twere hopeless for humanity to dream         Than those more massy and mysterious giants
Of honesty in such infected blood,            Of architecture, those Titanian fabrics,
Although'twere wed to him it covets most:    Which point in Egypt's plains to times that have
An incarnation of the poet's god              No other record! All is gentle: nought
In all his marble-chiseli'd beauty, or        Stirs rudely; but, congenial with the night,
The demi-deity, Alcides, in                   Whatever walks is gliding like a spirit.
His majesty of superhuman manhood,            The tinklings of some vigilant guitars
Would not suffice to bind where virtue is not."  Of sleepless lovers to a wakeful mistress,
pp, 50-53.   And cautious opening of the casement, showing
That he is not unheard; while her young hand,
The fourth Act opens with the mos tpoeti- Fair as the moonlight of which it seems part,
-cal and brilliantly written scene in the play- So delicately white, it trembles in
theiugh it is a soliloquy, and altogether alien  The act of opening the forbidden lattice,
from  the business of the piece} Lioni, a To let in love through music, niakes his heart
Thrill like his lyre-strings at the sight!-the dash
young nobleman, returns home from a splen- Phosphoric of the oar, or rapid twinkle
did assembly, rather out of spirits; and, Of the far lights of skimming gondolas,
opening his palace window for air, contrasts And the responsive voices of the choir
the tranquillity of the night scene which lies Of boatmen, answering back with verse for verse
before him, with the feverish turbulence and  Some dusky shadow chequering the Rialto;
glittering enchantments of that which he has Some glimmering palace roof, or tapering spire,
Are all the sights and sounds which here pervade
just quitted.  Nothing can be finer than this The ocean-born and eartl-commanding city."
victure in both its compartments.i'There is                                  pp. 98-101.




326                                     POETRY.
We can now afford but one other extract; nor expect, by any exaggerations, ~rf4 rouse
-and we take it from the grand and prophetic and rule our sympathies, by th6 se.selese
rant of which the unhappy Doge delivers him- anger of an old man, and the prudish proprie.
self at the place of execution.  He asks ties of an untempted woman, as by the
whether he may speak; and is told he may, agency of the great and simple passions with
but that the people are too far off to hear him. which, in some of their degrees, all men are
He then says,                                 familiar, and by which alone the Dramatic
Muse has hitherto wrought her miracles.
Of which I grow a prtion-not to manEte!        Of "Cain, a Mystery," we are constrained
Ye elements! in which to be resolved          to say, that, though it abounds in beautiful
I hasten! Ye blue waves! which bore my banner, passages, and shows more power perhaps than
Ye winds! which flutter'd o'er as if you loved it,  any of the author's dramatical compositions,
And fill'd my swelling sails, as they were wafted   we regret verymuch that it should ever have
To many a triumph! Thou, my native earth,     beenfpiilTh-hed.t will give great scanTdal
Which Ihave bled for, and thou foreign earth,  i  offe-     ious  persons in general-and
Which drank this willing blood from  many a maybe the means of suggestiug the most
wound!                        [Thou! may be the means of suggestiug the most
Thou sun! which shinest on these things, and painful doubts and distressing perplexities, to
Who kindlest and who quenchest suns!-Attest!  hundreds of minds that might never otherI am not innocent-But are these guiltless?   wise have been exposed to such dangerous
I perish: But not unavenged: For ages         disturbance. It is nothing less than absurd,
Float up from the abyss of time to be,        in such a case, to observe, that Lucifer cannot
And show these eyes, before they close, the doom  in such a case to oserve, that Lucifer cannot
Of this proud city!-Yes, the hours          well be expected to talk like an orthodox
Are silently engendering of the day,          divine-and that the conversation of the first
When she, who built'gainst Attila a bulwark,  Rebel and the first Murderer was not likely
Shall yield, and bloodlessly and basely yield  to be very unexceptionable-or to plead the
Unto a bastard Attila; without
UntSheddio  bastard Attila;   her lasout   defenuthority of Milton. or the authors of the old
Shedding so much blood in her last defence   mysteries, for such offensive colloquies. The
As these old veins, oft drain'd in shielding her,    mysteries, for such offensive colloquies. The
Shall pour in sacrifice.-She shall be bought  fact is, that here the whole argument-and a
Then, when the Hebrews in thy palaces,        very elaborate and specious argument it isThe Hun in thy high places, and the Greek     is directed against the goodness or the power
Walks o'er thy mart, and smiles on it for his;  of the Deity, and against the reasonableness
When thy patricians beg their bitter bread
In narrow streets, and in their shameful need  of religion in general; and there is no answer
Make their nobility a plea for pity;-when    so much as attempted to the offensive docThy sons are in the lowest scale of being,   trines that are so strenuously inculcated. >6~
Slaves turn'd o'er to the vanquish'd by the victors, Devil anl his pupil have the-iekLen
Despised by cowards for greater cowardice,    thems6       a d are encountered with nothAnd scorn' d even by the vicious for their vices,  g but feeble obtestations and unreasoning
When all the ills of conquer'd states shall cling thee, ing but feeble obtestations and unreasoning
Vice without splendour, sin without relief;s. Nor imes 
When these and more are heavy on thee, when    a mere incidental deornifmly tat arises in the
Smiles without mirth, and pastimes without plea- course of an action directed to the common
Youth without honour, age without respect, [sure, sympathies of our nature.  It forms, on the
Meanness and weakness, and a sense of woe     contrary, the great staple of the piece-and'Gainst which thou wilt not strive, and dar'st not     we should
Have   murmur,                        occuples, we should think not less than two
Have made thee last and worst of peopled deserts, thirds of it; so that it is really difficult to beThen-in the last gasp of thine agony,        lieve that it was written for any other purpose
Amidst thy many murders, think of mine!     than to inculcate these doctrines-or at least to
Thou den of drunkards with the blood of princes! discuss the question on which they bear. Now,
Gehenna of the waters! thou sea Sodom!       we can certainly have no objection to Lord
Thee and thy serpent seed!
Thus I devotethee   toh serpent    inferl gs  Byron writing an Essay on the Origin of Evil
THere the DOGE turns, and addresses the Exe- -and sifting the whole of that vast and percutioner. plexing subject with the force and the freeSlave, do thine office!  dom that would be expected and allowed in
Strike as I struck the foe! Strike as I would  a fair philosophical discussion. But we do
Have struck those tyrants! Strike deep as my not think it fair thus to argue it partially and
curse!
Strike-and but once!-pp. 162-165.            con amore in the name of Lucifer and Cain;
without the responsibility or the liability to
It will not now be difficult to estimate the answer that would attach to a philosophical
character of this work.-As a play, it is defi- disputant-and in a form which both doubles
c iniia.tIeattctfiYe pass-fisW- a]tiroaiity, the danger, if the sentiments are pernicious
and in depth a..nd. aety of interest; and and almost precltrdehis0s opponen~s from the
revolts thropghtue,.htlxeextrvagant   dis- possibility of a reply.
proportion-which  the injury bears to the    Philosophy and Poetry are both very good
untea^sirefd"resent ment -with which it is things in their way; but, in our opinion, they
pursued.  Lord Byron is undoubtedly, a poet do not go very well together.  It is but a poor
of the very first order —and has talents to and pedantic sort of poetry that seeks chiefly
reach the very highest honours of the drama. to embody metaphysical subtilties and abstract
But he must not again disdain love and am- deductions of reason-and a very suspicious
bition and jealousy. He must not substitute philosophy that aims at establishing its doe.
what is merely bizarre and extraordinary, for trines by appeals to the passions and the
what is naturally and universally interesting-  fancy. Though such arguments, however




t"ORD BYRON'S TRAGEDIES.                                 3n7
are worth little in the schools, it does not than all the rest; and whicn lead irresistibly
follow that their effect is inconsiderable in the to topics, upon which it seems at last neces.
world. On the contrary. it is the mischief of sary that we should express an opinion. We
all poetical paradoxes, that, from  the very allude to the concluding part of the Appendix
limits and end of poetry, which deals onlJ in to " The Two Foscari," in which Lord Byron
~  lancing view   t-y are never resumes his habitual complaint of the hostilbrought to the air te~s"f'b'-gu ment.  An al- ity which he has experienced from the wri-lusion to a doubtful topic will often pass for a ters of his own country-makes reprisals on
Lielinitive conclusion on it; and, when clothed  those who have assailed his reputation-and
in beautiful language, may leave the most inflicts, in particular, a memorable chastisepernicious impressions behind.  In the courts ment upon the unhappy Laureate, interspersed
of morality, poets are unexceptionable wit- with some political reflections of great weight
snesses; they may give in the evidence, and and authority.;depose to facts whether good or ill; but we    It is not however with these, or the merits
demur to their arbitrary and self-pleasing of the treatment which Mr. Southey has either
sL' nmings up. They are suspected judges, given or received, that we have now any conand not very often safe advocates; where great cern.  But we have a word or two to say on
questions are concerned, and universal prin- thegriefs of Lord,   phimeUf. He comciples brought to issue. But we shall not plains bitffrlyof the detii y which he
press this point farther at present.         has been assailed-and intimates that his
We shall give but one specimen, and that works have been received by the public with
the least offensive we can find, of the pre- far less cordiality and favour than he was envailing tone of this extraordinary drama.  It titled to expect.  We are constrained to say
is the address (for we cannot call it prayer) that this appears to us a very extraordinary
with which Cain accompanies the offering of mistake. In the whole course of our experihis sheaves on the altar-and directed to be ence, we cannot recollect a single author who
delivered, standing erect.                   has had so little reason to complain of his
"Spirit! whate'er or whosoe'er thou art,     reception-to whose genius the public has
Omnipotent, it may be -and, if good,         been so early and so constantly just-to whose
Shown in the exemption of thy deeds from evil;  faults they have been so long and so signally
Jehovah upon earth! and God in heaven!     indulgent. From the very first, he must have
And it may be with other names, because      been aware that he offended the principles
Thine attributes seem many, as thy works:-   and shocked the prejudices of the majority,
If thou must be propitiated with prayers,    by his sentiments, as much as he delighted
Take them! If thou must be induced with altars,   by his sentalents, as much as he delighted
And soften'd with a sacrifice, receive them!   em by his talents. Yet there never was an
Two beings here erect them unto thee.  [smokes author so universally and warmly applauded,
If thou lov'st blood, the shepherd's shrine, which so gently admonished-so kindly entreated to
On my right hand, hath shed it for thy service,    look more heedfully to his opinions. He took
In the first of his flock, whose limbs now reek  the praise, as usual, and reJected the advice.
In sanguinary incense to thy skies;                                               
Or if the sweet and blooming fruits of earth,  As he grew in fame and authority, he aggraAnd milder seasons, which the unstain'd turf  vated all his offences-clung more fondly to
I spread them on now offers in the face      all he had been reproached with —and only
Of the broad sun which ripen'd them, may seem   took leave of Childe Harold to ally himself to
Good to thee, inasmuch as they have not      Don Juan! That he has since been talked
Suffer'd in limb or life, and rather form    of, in public and in private, with less unminTo look on ours! If a shrine without victim,  gled admiration- that his name is now menAnd altar without gore, may win thy favour,  tioned as often for censure as for praise-and
Look on it! and for him who dresseth it,     that the exultation with which his countryHe is-such as thou mad'st him; and seeks nothing men once hailed t. greatest of our livi
Which must be won by kneeling. If he's evil,    koets.is now alloy   by the recoilectiort of
Strike him! thou art omnipotent, and may'st,-   the'Tendency of his writings-is matteri of
For what can he oppose? If he be good,                                      atter
Strike him, or spare him, as thou wilt! since all   notoriety to all the world; but matter of urRests upon thee; and good and evil seem      prise, we should imagine, to nobody but Lord
To have no power themselves, save in thy will;   Byron himself.
And whether that be good or ill I know not,    He would fain persuade himself, indeed,
Not being omnipotent, nor fit to judge       that for this decline of his popularity-or
Omnipotence; but merely to endure
Its mandate-which thus far I have endured."  rather this stain upon its lustre-for he is still
pp. 424, 425.   popular beyond all other example-and it is
only because he is so that we feel any interest
The catastrophe follows soon after, and is in this discussion; —he is indebted, not to any
brought about with great dramatic skill and actual demerits of his own, but to the jealousy
effect.  The murderer is sorrowful and con- of those he has supplanted, the envyof those
founded —his parents reprobate and renounce he has outshone, or the party rancour of those
him-his wife clings to him with eager and against whose corruptions he has testified;unhesitating affection; and theywander forth  while, at other times, he seems inclined to
together into the vast solitude of the universe. insinuate, that it is chiefly because he is a
We have now  gone through the poetical Gentlemai and a Nobleman that plebeian cenpart of this volume, and ought here, perhaps, sors have conspired to bear him down! We
to close our account of it. But there are a scarcely think, however, that these theories
few pages in prose that are more talked of will pass with Lord Byron himself-we are




328                                 POETRY.
sure they whi pass with no other person.- even of Don Juan, so offeusively degrading as
They are so manifestly inconsistent, as mutu- Tom Jones' affaifrw-liti Lady Bellast-o', it
ally to destroy each other-and so weak, as is no doubt a wretched apology for ffIehndeto be quite insufficient to account for the fact, cencies of a man of genius, that equal indeo
even if they could be effectually combined cencies have been forgiven to his predecesfor that purpose. The party that Lord Byron sors: But the precedent of lenity might have
has chiefly offended, bears no malice to Lords been followed; and we might have passed
and Gentlemen. Against its rancour, on the both the levity and the voluptuousness-the
contrary, these qualities have undoubtedly dangerous warmth of his romantic situations,
been his best protection; and had it not been and the scandal of his cold-blooded dissipafor them, he may be assured that he would, tion. It might not have been so easy to get
long ere now, have been shown up in the over his dogmatic scepticism —his hard-heartpages of the Quarterly, with the same candour ed maxims of misanthrop —his cold-blooded
and liberality that has there been exercised and eager expositions of the non-existence of
towards his friend Lady Morgan. That the virtue and honour. Even this, however, might
base and the bigoted-those whom he has have been comparatively harmless, if it had
darkened by his glory, spited by his talent, not been accompanied by that which may
or mortified by his neglect-have taken ad- look, at first sight as a palliation —the frequent
vantage of the prevailing disaffection, to vent presentment of tie most touching pictures of
their puny malice in silly nicknames and vul- tenderness, generosity. and faith.
gar scurrility, is natural and true. But Lord   The charge we bring against Lord Byron,
Byron may depend upon it, that the dissatis- in short, is, that his writings have y a tendenr
faction is not confined to them-and, indeed, to destrall be   in te reality of  tii
that they would never have had the courage -and to..mT..lo6an enthusiasm  and conto assail one so immeasurably their superior. stancy of affection ridiculous; and this, not
if he had not at once made himself vulnera- so much by direct maxims and examples,
ble by his errors, and alienated his natural of an imposing or seducing kind, as by the.defenders by his obstinate adherence to them. constant exhibition of the most profligate
We. are not bigots or rival poets. We have heartlessness in the persons who had been
not been detractors from Lord Byron's fame, transiently represented as actuated by the
nor the friends of his detractors; and we tell purest and most exalted emotions-and in the
him-far more in sorrow than in anger-that lessons of that very teacher who had been,
we verily believe the great body of the Eng- but a moment before, so beautifully pathetic
lish nation-the religious, the moral, and the in the expression of the loftiest conceptions.
candid part of it-consider the tendency of When a gay voluptuary descants, somewhat
his writings to be immoral and pernicious-  too freely, on the intoxications of love and
and look upon his perseverance in that strain wine, we ascribe his excesses to the effervesof composition with regret and reprehension. cence of youthful spirits, and do not consider
He has no priestlike cant or priestlike revil- him as seriously impeaching either the value
ing to apprehend from us. We do not charge or the reality of the severer virtues; and in
him with being either a disciple or an apostle the same way, when the satirist deals out his
of Satan; nor do we describe his poetry as a sarcasms against the sincerity of human promere compound of blasphemy and obscenity. fessions, and unmasks the secret infirmities
On the contrary, we are inclined to believe of our bosoms, we consider this as aimed at
that he wishes well to the happiness of man- hypocrisy, and not at mankind: or, at all
kind-and are glad to testify, that his poems events, and in either case, we consider the
abound with sentiments of great dignity and Sensualist and the Misanthrope as wandering,
tenderness, as well as passages of infinite each in his own delusion-and are contentedsublimity and beauty.  But their e       to pity those who have never kiiow in thei
tendency we believe to be in the hgest c          -armsiiofa tender or generous affection.Alec f    rtdivn-;-a1ff'we'Snt —tnka" The true antidote to such seductive or revoltis chiefly by  emns of the fine and lofty sen- ing views of human nature, is to turn to the
timents they contain, that they acquire their scenes of its nobleness and attraction; and to
most fatal power of corruption. This may reconcile ourselves again to our kind, by listsound at first, perhaps, like a paradox; but ening to the accents of pure affection and in-..
we are mistaken if we shall not make it in- corruptible honour. But if those accents have
telligible enough in'the end.            flowed in all their sweetness, from the very
We think there are indecencies and indeli- lips that instantly open again to mock and
cacies seduc6tiv-escioand-.oiate blaspheme them, the antidote is mingled with
representat    - aionswhich are,.emeely re   the poison, and the draught is the more deadhensible~; —iT anYasoa audacious speculations, ly for the mixture!
aini'd errrn~ous and uncharitable assertions    The reveller may pursue his orgies, and the
equally indefensible. But if these had stood wanton display her enchantments, with comalone, and if the whole body of his works parative safety to those around them, as long as
had been made up of gaudy ribaldry  and they know or believe that there are purer and
flashy scepticism, the milci   we i"W'thinke     higher enjoyments, and teachers and followwould have been much less than it is. He is ers of a happier way. But if the Priest pass
not more obscene, perhaps, than Dryden or from the altar, with persuasive exhortations to
Prior, and other classical and pardoned wri- peace and purity still trembling on his tongue,
ters - nor is there any passage in the history to join familiarly in the grossest and most pro.




LORD BYRON'S TRAGEbIES.                             329
fine debauchery-if the Matron, who has compassion were fit only to be laughed at.
charmed all hearts by the lovely sanctimo- In the same spirit, the glorious Ode on the
hies of her conjugal and maternal endear- aspirations of Greece after Liberty, is instantments, glides out from the circle of her chil- ly followed up by a strain of dull and colddren, and gives bold and shameless way to blooded ribaldry; —and we are hurried on
the most abandoned and degrading vices — from the distraction and death of Haidee to
our notions of right and wrong are at once' merry scenes of intrigue and masquerading
confounded-our confidence in virtue shaken in the seraglio. Thus all good feelings are
to t]-e foundation-and our reliance on truth excited only to accustom us to their speedy
a.f4 fidelity at an end for ever.        and complete extinction; and we are brought
jiTi/' is the charge which we bring against back, from their transient and theatrical exLord Byron. We say that, under some strange hibition, to the staple and substantial doctrine
misapprehension as to the truth, and the duty of the work-the non-existence of constancy
of proclaiming it. he has exerted all the powers in women or honour in men, and the folly of
of his powerful mind to convince his readers, expecting to meet with any such virtues, or 4f
both d;rectly and indirectly, that all ennobling cultivating them, for an undeserving world;
pursuits, and disinterested virtues, are mere -and all this mixed up with so much wit and
deceits or illusions-hollow and despicable cleverness, and knowledge of human nature,
mockeries for the most part, and, at best, but as to make it irresistibly pleasant and plausilaborious follies. Religion, love, patriotism, ble-while there is not only no antidote supvalour, devotion, constancy, ambition-all are plied, but every thing that might have operated
to be laughed at, disbelieved in, and de- in that way has been anticipated, and prespised!-and nothing is really good, so far as sented already in as strong and engaging a
we can gather, but a succession of dangers to form as possible-but under such associations
stir the blood, and of banquets and intrigues as to rob it of all efficacy, or even turn it into
to soothe it again! If this doctrine stood alone, an auxiliary of the poison.
with its examples, it would revolt, we believe   This is our sincere opinion of much of Lord
more than it would seduce:-But the author Byron's most splendid poetry —a little exagge.
of it has the unlucky gift of personating all rated perhaps in the expression, from a desire
those sweet and lofty illusions, and that with to make our exposition clear and impressive
such grace and force, and truth to nature, that -but, in substance, we think merited and
it is impossible not to suppose, for the time, that correct. We have already said, and we dehe is among the most devoted of their votaries-  liberately repeat, that we have no notion that
till he casts off the character with a jerk-and, Lord Byron had any mischievous intention in
the moment after he has moved and exalted us these publications-and readily acquit him of
to the very height of our conception, resumes any wish to corrupt the morals or impair the
his mockery at all things serious or sublime-  happiness of his readers. Such a wish, inand lets us down at once on some coarse joke, deed, is in itself altogether inconceivable; but
hard-hearted sarcasm, or fierce and relentless it is our duty, nevertheless, to say, that much
personality —as if on purpose to show    of what he has published appears to us to have
Whoe'er was edified himself was not"-    this tendency-and that we are acquainted
Whoe'er was edified, himself was not" — with no writings so well calculated to exor to demonstrate practically as it were, and tinguish in young minds all generous enthuby example, how possible it is to have all fine siasm and gentle affection-all respect for
and noble feelings, or their appearance, for a themselves, and all love for their kind-to
moment, and yet retain no particle of respect make them practise and profess hardily what
for them-or of belief in their intrinsic worth it teaches them to suspect in others —and
or permanent reality. Thus, we have an in- actually to persuade them that it is wise and
delicate but very clever scene of young Juan's manly and knowing to laugh, not only at self.
concealment in the bed of an amorous matron, denial and restraint, but at all aspiring ambiand of the torrent of " rattling and audacious tion, and all warm and constant affection.
eloquence " with which she repels the too   How opposite to this is the system, or the
just suspicions of her jealous lord. All this temper of thereat author of Waverley
is merely comic, and a little coarse:-But ov ing individual to- whom&iir7.]y n
then the poet chooses to make this shameless                    asinferior in genius
-and abandoned woman address to her young -and still more deplorably inferior ia   a
gallant an epistle breathing the very spirit of makes genius either amiable in itself, or
warm, devoted, pure and unalterable love-  useful to society! With all his unrivalled
thus profaning the holiest language of the power of invention and judgment, of pathos
heart, and indirectly associating it with the and pleasantry, the tenor of his sentiments
ra. st hateful and degrading sensuality. In is uniformly generous, indulgent, and goodlike manner, the sublime and terrific descrip- humoured; and so remote from the bitterness
tion of the Shipwreck is strangely and dis- of misanthropy, that he never indulges in sargustingly broken by traits of low humour and casm, and scarcely, in any case, carries his
buffoonery; —and we pass immediately from  merriment so far as derision. But the pecuthe moans of an agonising father fainting over liarity by which he stands most broadly and
his famished son, to facetious stories of Juan's proudly distinguished from  Lord Byron is,
begging a paw of his father's dog-and re- that, beginning as he frequently does, with
fusing a slice of his tutor!-as if it were a some ludicrous or satirical theme, he never
fine thing to be hard-hearted —and pity and fails to raise out of it some feelings of a gener



3aio                               POETRY.
ous or gentle kind, and to end by exciting our or so managed as even lo enhance its merits
tender pity, or deep respect, for those very or confirm its truth. With what different sen.
individuals or classes of persons who seemed sations, accordingly, do we read the works of
at first to be brought on the stage for our mere those two great writers!-With the one, we
sport and amusement-thus making the ludi- seem to share a gay and gorgeous banquetcrous itself subservient to the cause of be- with the other, a wild and dangerous intoxinevolence —and inculcating, at every turn, cation. Let Lord Byron bethink him of this
and as the true end and result of all his trials contrast-and its causes and effects. Though
and experiments, the love of our kind, and he scorns the precepts, and defies the censure
the duty and delight oir.,ordial and genuine of ordinary men, he may yet be moved by the
sympathy with the joys and sorrows of every example of his only superior!-In the mean
condition of men. It seems to be Lord Byron's time, we have endeavoured to point out the
way, on the contrary, never to excite a kind canker that stains the splendid flowers of his
or a noble sentiment, without making haste to poetry-or, rather, the serpent that lurks beobliterate it by a torrent of unfeeling mockery neath them. If it will not listen to the voice
or relentless abuse, and taking pains to show of the charmer, that brilliant garden, gay and
how well those passing fantasies may be re- glorious as it is, must be deserted, and its
conciled to a system of resolute misanthropy, existence deplored, as a snare to the unwary.
(2tugzst, 1817.)
Manfred; a Dramatic Poem. By Lord BYRON. 8vo. pp. 75. London: 1811.
THIS is a very strange-not a very pleasing ings,-but lie treats them with gentleness and
-but unquestionably a very powerful and pity; and, except when stung to impatience
most poetical production. The noble author, by too importunate an intrusion, is kind and
we find, still deals with that dark and over- considerate of the comforts of all around him.
awing Spirit, by whose aid he has so often   This piece is properly entitled a Dramatic
subdued the minds of his readers, and in Poem-for it is merely poetical, and is not at
whose might he has wrought so many won- all a drama or play in the modern acceptation
ders.  an Manfred, we recognise at once the of the term. It has no action; no plot-and
gloom and potency of that soul which burned no characters; Manfred merely muses and
and blasted and fed upon itself in Harold, and suffers from the beginning to the end. His
Conrad, and Lara-and which comes again in distresses are the same at the opening of the
this piece, more in sorrow than in anger-  scene and at its closing-and the temper in
more proud, perhaps, and more awful than which they are borne is the same. A hunter
ever-but with the fiercer traits of its misan- and a priest, and some domestics, are indeed
thropy subdued, as it were, and quenched in introduced; but they have no connection with
the gloom of a deeper despondency. Man- the passions or sufferings on which the interfred does not, like Conrad and Lara, wreak est depends; and Manfred is substantially
the anguish of his burning heart in the dan- alone throughout the whole piece. He holds
gers and daring of desperate and predatory no communion but with the memory of the
war-nor seek to drown bitter thoughts in the Being he had loved; and the immortal Spirits
tumult of perpetual contention-nor yet, like whom he evokes to reproach with his misery,
Harold, does he sweep over the peopled scenes and their inability to relieve it. These unof the earth with high disdain and aversion, earthly beings approach nearer to the characand make his survey of the business and ter of persons of the drama-but still they
pleasures and studies of man an occasion for are but choral accompaniments. to the pertaunts and sarcasms, and the food of an im- formance; and Manfred is, in reality, the only
measurable spleen. He is fixed by the genius actor and sufferer on the scene. To delineate
of the poet in the majestic solitudes of the his character indeed-to render conceivable
central Alps-where, from his youth up, he his feelings-is plainly the whole scope and
has lived in proud but calm seclusion from  design of the poem; and the conception and
the ways of men: conversing only with the execution are, in this respect, equally admirmagnificent forms and aspects of nature by able. It is a grand and terrific vision of a
which he is surrounded, and with the Spirits being invested with superhuman attributes,
of the Elements over whom he has acquired in order that he may be capable of more than
dominion, by the secret and unhallowed stu- human sufferings, and be sustained under
dies of Sorcery and Magic. He is averse them by more than human force and pride.
indeed from mankind, and scorns the low and To object to the improbability of the fiction
frivolous nature to which he belongs; but he is, we think, to mistake the end and aim of
cherishes no animosity or hostility to that the author. Probabilities, we apprehend, did
feeble race. Their concerns excite no inter- not enter at all into his consideration-his
est-their pursuits no sympathy-their joys object was, to produce effect-to exalt and
no envy. It is irksome and vexatious for him  dilate the character through whom he was to
to be crossed by them in his melancholy mus- interest or appal us-and to raise our concep.




LORD BYRON'S MANFRED.                                   ss3
tion of it, by all the helps that could be derived   Nor flattering throb, that beats with hoI.es or
from the majesty of nature, or the dread of           wishes,
superstition.  It is enough, therefore, if the   Or lurking love of something on the earth.situation in which he has placed him is con-   Now to my task."-pp. 7, 8.
ceivable-and if the supposition of its reality    When his evocation is completed, a star is
enhances our emotions and kindles our im- seen at the far end of a gallery, and celestial
agination; —for it is Manfred only that we are voices are heard reciting a great deal of poetry.
required to fear, to pity, or admire. If we After they have answered that the gift of
can once conceive of him as a real existence, oblivion is not at their disposal, and intimated
and enter into the depth and the height of his that death itself could not bestow it on him,
pride and his sorrows, we may deal as we they ask if he has any further demand to
please with the means that have been used to  make of them.  He answers,
furnish us with this impression, or to enable   " No, none: yet stay!-one moment, ere we
us to attain to this conception.  We may re- I would behold ye face to face. I hear   [partgard them but as types, or metaphors, or alle- Your voices, sweet and melancholy sounds
gories: But he is the thing to be expressed; As music on the waters; and I see
and the feeling and the intellect, of which all The steady aspect of a clear large star;
these are but shadows.                        But nothing more. Approach me as ye are,
these are but'shadows.  Or one, or all, in your accustom'd forms.
The events, such as they are, upon which    Spirit. We have no forms beyond the elements
the piece may be said to turn, have all taken  Of which we are the mind and principle:
place long before its opening, and are but But choose a form-in'that we will appear.
dimly shadowed out in the casual communica-   Mlan. I have no choice; there is no form on earth
tions of the agonising being to whom they  Hideous or beautiful to me. Let him
relateis.   N ob  bn   a   traine  in    t   Who is most powerful of ye, take such aspect
relate. Nobly born and trained in the castle As unto him may seem most fitting.-Come!
of his ancestors, he had very soon sequestered    Seventh Spirit.  (Appearing in the shape of a
himself from  the society of men; and, after          beautiful female figure.) Behold 
running through the common circle of human    M. Oh God! if it be thus, and thou
sciences, had dedicated himself to the worship  Art not a madness and a mockery,
of the wild magnificence of nature  and to I yet might be most happy.-I will clasp thee,
r s *1 w     1 *o   And we again will be-  [The gure vanishes.
those forbidden studies by which he had  And we again will be-          [The fgure vanishes.
My heart is crush'd!
learned to command its presiding powers.-              [MANFREDfSals     senseless."-pp. 15, 16.
One companion, however, he had, in all his   The first scene of this extraordinaryper.
tasks and enjoyments-a female of kindred formance ends with a long poetical incantagenius, taste, and capacity-lovely too beyond tion, sung  y the invisible spirits over the
all loveliness; but, as we gaoter, too nearly    sun g by the invisble     spir its over the
related to be lawfully beloved.  The catas-senseless victim  before them. The second
shows him in the bright sunshine of morning,
trophe of their unhappy passion is insinuated  shows him in the Jungfrau mountain, morning,
in the darkest and most ambiguous terms- on the top of the Jungfrau mountain, mediin the darkest and most ambiguous terms-  tating self-destruction-and uttering forth in
all that we make out is, that she died un- solitude as usual the voice of his habitual
timely and by violence, on account of this despair, and those intermingled feelings of
fatal attachment-though not by the act of love and admiration for the grand and beautiits object.  He killed her, he says, not with  fulove and admiration for the grand and beautihis hand-but his heart; and her blood was ful objects with which he is environed, that
shed, though not his himeart; andFrom her blood was unconsciously win him back to a certain
shed, though not by him! From  that hour, kindly sympathy with human enjoyments.
life is a burden to him, and memory a torture
-and the extent of his power and knowledge    " Man. The spirits I have raised abandon meserves only to show him the hopelessness and  The spells which I have studied baffle meendlessness of his misery.                    The remedy I reck'd of tortured me;
I lean no more on superhuman aid:
The piece opens with his evocation of the It hath no power upon the past, and for
Spirits of the Elements, from whom  he de- The future. till the past be gulf'd in darkness,
mands the boon of forgetfulness-and ques- It is not of my search.-My mother Earth!
tioe.s them as to his own immortality.  The And thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Moun.
sceex  is in his Gothic tower at midnight-and  Why are ye beautiful? I cannot love ye. [tains,
opers with a soliloquy that reveals at once And thou, the bright eye of the universe,
~opens  w i   t      h~           aoioutaeelsaneThat openest over all, and unto all
the state of the speaker, and the genius of Art a delight-thou shin'st not on my heart.
the author.                                   And you, ye crags, upon whose extreme edge
I stand, and on the torrent's brink beneath
" The lamp must be replenish'd —but even then   Behold the tall pines dwindled as to shrubs
It will not burn so long as I must watch!  In dizziness of distance; when a leap,
Philosophy and science, and the springs     A stir, a motion, even a breath, would bring
Of wonder, and the wisdom of the world,     My breast upon its rocky bosom's bed
I have essayed, and in my mind there is      To rest for ever-wherefore do I pause?
A power to make these subject to itself —                                  Ay,
But they avail not: I have done men good,   Thou winged and cloud-cleaving minister,
And I have met with good even among men —                                [An eagle passes
But this avail'd not: I have had my foes,   Whose happy flight is highest into heaven,
And none have baffled, many fallen before me-  Well may'st thou swoop so near me-I should be
But this avail'd not:-Good, or evil, life,  Thy prey, and gorge thine eaglets! thou art gone
Powers, passions, all I see in other beings,  Where the eye cannot follow thee; but thine eye
Have been to me as rain unto the sands,     Yet piercest downward, onward, or above
Since that all-nameless hour! I have no dread, With a pervading vision.-Beautiful!
And feel the curse to have no natural fear,  How beautiful is all this visible world'




332                                     POETRY.
How glorious in its action and itself!          C. Hun.                        What is it
But we, who name ourselves its sovereigns, we,   That thou dost see, or think thou look'st upon?
Half dust, half deity, alike unfit              Man. Mvyself, and thee-a peasant of the Alps
To sink or soar, with our mix'd essence make  Thy humble virtues, hospitable home,
A conflict of its elements, and breathe       And spirit patient, pious, proud and free;
The breath of degradation and of pride,        Thy self-respect, grafted on innocent thoughts;
Contending with low wants and lofty will      Thy days of health, and nights of sleep; thy toils,
Till our mortality predominates,              By danger dignified, yet guiltless; hopes
And men are-what they name not to themselves,  Of cheerful old age and a quiet grave,
And trust not to each other. Hark! the note,  With cross and garland over its green turf,
[The shepherd's pipe in the distance is heard. And thy grandchildren's love for epitaph;
The natural music of the mountain reed-       This do I see-and then I look withinFor here the patriarchal days are not         It matters not-my soul was scorch'd already!"
A pastoral fable-pipes in the liberal air,                                     pp. 27-29.
Mix'd with the sweet bells of the sauntering herd;    The following scene is one of the most
My soul would drink those echoes! —Oh, that I were
The viewless spirit of a lovely sound,        poetical and most sweetly written  in the
A living voice, a breathing harmony,          poem. There is a still and delicious witchery
A bodiless enjoyment-born and dying           in the tranquillity and seclusion of the place,
With the blest tone which made me!"-pp. 20-22. and the celestial beauty of the Being who
At this period of his soliloquy, he is de- reveals herself in the midst of these visible
scried by a Chamois hunter, who overhears enchantments.  In a deep valley among the
its continuance.                              mountains, Manfred appears alone before a
lofty cataract, pealing in the quiet sunshine
a' Toh l be the us-e  down the still and everlasting rocks; and
Grey-hair'd with anguish, like these blasted pines,a
Wrecks of a single winter, barkless, branchless,
A blighted trunk upon a cursed root,          "It is not noon-the sunbow's rays still arch
Which but supplies a feeling to decay-        The torrent with the many hues of heaven,
And to be thus, eternally but thus,           And roll the sheeted silver's waving column
Having been otherwise!                       O'er the crag's headlong perpendicular,
Ye topling crags of ice! And fling its lines of foaming light along,
Ye avalanches, whom a breath draws down       And to and fro, likethe pale courser's tail,
In mountainous o'erwhelming, come and crush me! The Giant steed, to be bestrode by Death,
I hear ye momently above, beneath,            As told in the Apocalypse. No eyes
Crash with a frequent conflict; but ye pass,  But mine now drink this sight of loveliness;
And only fall on things which still would live;  I should be sole in this sweet solitude,
On the young flourishing forest, or the hut   And with the Spirit of the place divide
And hamlet of the harmless villager.          The homage of these waters.-I will call her.
The mists boil up around the glaciers! clouds  [Re takes some of the water into the palm of his
Rise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphury,  hand, and flings it in the air, muttering the adLike foam from the roused ocean of deep Hell,    juration.  After a pause, the WITCH OF THE
Whose every wave breaks on a living shore,        ALPS rises beneath the arch of the sunbow of
Heaped with the damn'd like pebbles-I am giddy!"  the torrent.]
pp. 23, 24.    l2lan. Beautiful Spirit! with thy hair of light,
And dazzling eyes of glory! in whose form
Just as he is about to spring from the cliff, The charms of Earth's least-mortal daughters grow
he is seized by the hunter, who forces him  To an unearthly stature, in an essence
away from the dangerous place in the midst Of purer elements; while the hues of youth,of the rising tempest.  In the second act, we  Carnation'd like a sleeping infant's cheek,
find him in the cottage of this peasant, and in  Rock'd by the beating of her mother's heart,
Or the rose tints, which summer's twilight leaves
a still wilder state of disorder. His host Upon the lofty glacier's virgin snow,
offers him wine; but, upon looking at the cup, The blush of earth embracing with her heaven,he exclaims —                                 Tinge thy celestial aspect, and make tame
The beauties of the sunbow which bends o'er thee!
"Away, away! there's blood upon the brim!   Beautiful Spirit! in thy calm clear brow,
Will it then never-never sink in the earth?  Wherein is glass'd serenity of soul,
C. Hun. What dost thou mean? thy senses Which of itself shows immortality,
wander from thee.                     I read that thou wilt pardon to a Son
Man. I say'tis blood-my blood! the pure warm  Of Earth, whom the abstruser Powers permit
stream                                At times to commune with them-if that he
Which ran in the veins of my fathers, and in ours  Avail him of his spells-to call thee thus,
When we were in our youth, and had one heart,   And gaze on thee a moment.
And loved each other-as we should not love!-   Witch.                   Son of Earth!
And this was shed: but still it rises up,     I know thee, and the Powers which give thee power!
Colouring the clouds that shut me out from heaven, I know thee-for a man of many thoughts,
Where thou art not-and I shall never be!     And deeds of good and ill, extreme in both,
C. Hun. Man of strange words, and some half. Fatal and fated in thy sufferings.
maddening sin, &c.                    I have expected this-what wouldst thou with me?
Man. Think'st thou existence doth depena on.Man. To look upon thy beauty!-nothing furIt doth; but actions are our epochs: mine  [time?  ther."-pp. 31, 32.
Have made my days and nights imperishable,
Endless, and all alike, as sands on the shore,  There is something exquisitely beautiful, to
Innumerable atoms; and one desert,            our taste, in all this passage; and both the
Barren and cold, on which the wild waves break,   apparition and the dialogue are so managed,
But nothing rests, save carcasses and wrecks,  that the sense of their improbability is swalRocks, and the salt-surf weeds of bitterness.  lowed up in that of their beauty;-and, withC. Hun. Alas! he's mad-but yet I must not out actually believing that such spirits exist
leave him.                            o
Man. I would I were-for then the things I see  or communicate themselves,  e feel for the
Would be but a distempered dream.             moment as if we stooa in their presence.




LORD BYRON'S MANFRED.
What fllows, though extremely powerful, Made him a thing, which I, who pity not.
and more laboured in the writing, has less Yet pardon those who pity. He is mine,
charm for us. He tells his celestial auditor And thine, it may be-be it so, or not,
No other Spirit in this region hath
the brief story of his misfortune; and when A soul like his-or power upon his soul."
he mentions the death of the only being he                                    pp. 47, 48.
nad ever loved, the beauteous Spirit breaks in    At his desire
with her superhuman pride.                   tart his dhe        ghost of his beloved As.
tarte is then called up, and appears-but re.
"And for this-        fuses to speak at the command of the Powers
A being of the race thou dost despise,       who have raised her till Manfred breaks out
The order which thine own would rise above,  into this passionate   d agonising address.
Mingling with us and ours, thou dost forego
The gifts of our great knowledge, and shrink'st back             "Hear me, hear meTo recreant mortality-Away!         [hour — Astarte! my beloved! speak to me!
Mlan. Daughter of Air! I tell thee, since that I have so much endured-so much endureBut words are breath!-Look on me in my sleep,  Look on me! the grave hath not changed thee more
Or watch my watchings-Come and sit by me!   Than I am changed for thee. Thou lovedst me
My solitude is solitude no more,             Too much, as I loved thee: we were not made
But peopled with the Furies!-I have gnash'd  To torture thus each other, though it were
My teeth in darkness till returning morn,    The deadliest sin to love as we have loved.
Then cursed myself till sunset;-I have pray'd    Say that thou loath'st me not-that I do bear
For madness as a blessing-'tis denied me.    This punishment for both-that thou wilt be
I have affronted Death-but in the war        One of the blessed-and that I shall die!
Of elements the waters shrunk from me,       For hitherto all hateful things conspire
And fatal things pass'd harmless."-pp. 36, 37.    To bind me in existence-in a life
Which makes me shrink from immortalityThe third scene is the boldest in the exhi- A future like the past! I cannot rest.
bition of supernatural persons. The three I know not what i ask, nor what I seek:
Destinies and Nemesis meet, at midnight on I feel but what thou art-and what I am;
the top of the Alps, on their way to the hall And I would hear yet once, before I perish,
of Armanes and sing strange ditties to the The voice which was my music.-Speak to me!
of Arimanes, and sing strange ditties to the For I have call'd on thee in the still night,
moon, of their mischiefs wrought among men. Startled the slumbering birds from  the hush'd
Nemesis being rather late, thus apologizes for       boughs,
keeping them waiting.                        And woke the mountain wolves, and made the
Acquainted with thy vainly echoed name,  [caves
I was detain'd repairing shattered thrones,  Which answered me-many things answered meMarrying fools, restoring dynasties,         Spirits and men-but thou wert silent still!
Avenging men upon their enemies,             Yet speak to me! I have outwatch'd the stars,
And making them repent their own revenge;    And gazed o'er heaven in vain in search of thee.
Goading the wise to madness; from the dull   Speak to me! I have wandered o'er the earth
Shaping out oracles to rule the world        And never found thy likeness.-Speak to me!
Afresh; for they were waxing out of date,    Look on the fiends around-they feel for me:
And mortals dared to ponder for themselves,  I fear them not, and feel for thee alone.To weigh kings in the balance, and to speak  Speak to me! though it be in wrath;-but sayOf freedom, the forbidden fruit.-Away!      I reck not what-but let me hear thee onceWe have outstaid the hour-mount we our clouds!" This once!-once more!
p. 44.    Phantom of Astarte. Manfred!
Mlan.                      Sayon, say on-.
This we think is out of place at least, if we I live but in the sound-it is thy voice!  [ills.
imust not say out of character; and though the   Phan. Manfred! To.morrow ends thine earthly
author may tell us that human calamities are Farewell!
naturally subjects of derision to the Ministers   M1an.   Yet one word more-am I forgiven 
Phan. Farewell!
of Vengeance, yet we cannot be persuaded   PMan. Farewell!
that satirical and political allusions are at all   Phan. Farewell!
compatible with the feelings and impressions   Mlan. One word for mercy! Say, thou lovest me!
which it was here his business to maintain.   Phan. Manfred!
When the Fatal Sisters are again assembled                [The Spirit of ASTARTE disappears.
before the throne of Arimanes, Manfred sud-   Nem. She's gone, and will not be recalled."
denly appears among them, and refuses the                                    pp. 5-52.
prostrations which they require.  The first   The last act, though in many passages very
Destiny thus loftily announces him.          beautifully written, seems to us less powerful.
Prince of the Powers invisible! This man  t passes altogether in Manfred's castle, and
Is" Prnce of  then o ommon order, as hinvble  Ths port man  is chiefly occupied in two long conversations
And presence here denote; his sufferings     between him and a holy abbot, who comes te
Have been of an immortal nature, like        exhort and absolve him, and whose counsel
Our own; his knowledge and his powers and will, he repels with the most reverent gentleness,
As far as is compatible with clay,           and but few bursts of dignity and pride. The
Which clogs the etherial essence, have been such  following passages are full of poetry and
As clay hath seldom borne; his aspirations   feeling
Have been beyond the dwellers of the earth,
And they have only taught him what we know-  "Ay-father! I have had those earthly visions,
That knowledge is not happiness; and science  And noble aspirations in my youth;
But an exchange of ignorance for that        To make my own the mind of other men,
Which is another kind of ignorance.          The enlightener of nations; and to rise
This is not all;-the passions, attributes  [being, I knew not whither-it might be to fall;
Of earth and heaven, from which no power, nor But fall, even as the mountain-cataract,
Nor breath, from the worm upwards, is exempt,   Which having leapt from its more dazzling neighl
Have pierced his heart; and in their consequence  Even in the foaming strength of its abyss,




334                                     POETRY.
(Which casts up misty columns that become     in this poem; —but it is undoubtedly a work
Clouds raining from the re-ascended skies),   of genius and originality.  Its worst fault,
Lies low but mlghty still.-But this is past!
LiesMy  thoughts mighty still-But this is past!  perhaps, is) that it fatigues and overawes us
My thoughts mistook themselves.
Abbott. And why not live and act with other men? by the uniformity of its terror and solemnity.
Man. Because my nature was averse from life;  Another is the painful and offensive nature of
And yet not cruel; for I would not make,      the circumstance on which its distress is ultiBut find a desolation:-like the wind,        mately founded.  It all springs from the disWhih dwe llsd-hot breath of the most lone Simoom  appointment or fatal issue of an incestuous
Which dwells but in the desert, and sweeps o'er     n; and inces
The barren sands which bear no shrubs to blast,   passion; and incest, according to our  odern
And revels o'er their wild and arid waves,    ideas-for it was otherwise in antiquity-is
And seeketh not, so that it is not sought,    not a thing to be at all brought before the
But being met is deadly! Such hath been      imagination.  The lyrical songs of the Spirits
The course of my existence; but there came    are too long; and not all excellent.  There
Things in my path which are no more."-        is something of pedantry in them  now and
pp. 59, 60.   then; and even Manfred deals in classical
There is also a fine address to the setting allusions a little too much.  If we were to
sun.-aud a singular miscellaneous soliloquy, consider it as a proper drama, or even as a
in which one of the author's Roman recol- finished poem, we should be obliged to add,
lections is brought in, we must say somewhat that it is far too indistinct and unsatisfactory.
unnaturally.                                  But this we take to be according to the design
" The stars are forth, the moon above the tops  and conception of the author.  He contemOf the snow-shining mountains.-Beautiful!     plated but a dim and magnificent sketch of a
I linger yet with Nature, for the night       subject which did not admit of a more accuHath been to me a more familiar face          rate drawing, or more brilliant colouring. Its
Than that of man; and in her starry shade               is   a  of its grandeur;-and the
Of dim and solitary loveliness,                                                   the smoky
I learn'd the language of another world!      dar ness t at rests upon          the smoky
[ do remember me, that in my youth,           distance in which it is lost, are all devices to
When I was wandering-upon such a night        increase its majesty, to stimulate our curiI stood within the Colosseum's wall,          osity, and to impress us with deeper awe.
Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome;          t
Midst the chief relis of almighty Rome;  It is suggested, in an ingenious paper, in a
The trees which grew along the broken arches    late Number of the Edinburgh Magazine
Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars
Shone through the rents of ruin; from afar    that the general conception of this piece, and
The watchdog bayed beyond the Tiber; and      much of what is excellent in the manner of
More near, from out the Caesars' palace came  its execution, have been borrowed from "the
The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly,       Tragical History of Dr. Faustus'" of Marlowe;
Of distant sentinels the fitful song
BegunOf distand died upon the genfitful song  and a variety of passages are quoted, which
Begun and died upon the gentle wind.
Some cypresses beyond the time.worn breach    the author considers as similar, and, in many
Appear'd to skirt the horizon; yet they stood  respects, superior to others in the poem before
Within a bowshot.-                            us.  We cannot agree in the general terms
And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon! upon    of this conclusion; —but there is, no doubt, a
All this, and cast a wide and tender light,   certain resemblance  both in some of t
Which soften'd down the hoar austerity        topics that are suggested and in the cast of
Of rugged desolation, and flll'd up,          topics that are suggested. and in the cast of
As'twere, anew, the gaps of centuries;       the diction in which  they are expressed.
Leaving that beautiful which still was so,    Thus, to induce Faustus to persist in his unAnd making that which was not, till the place  lawful studies, he is told that the Spirits of
Became religion, and the heart ran o'er       the Elements will serve himWith silent worship of the great of old!"pp. 68, 69.   "Sometimes like women, or unwedded maids,
Shadowing more beauty in their ayrie browes
In his dying hour he is beset with Demons  Than have the white breasts of the Queene o.
who pretend to claim him  as their forfeit;-          Love."
but he indignantly and victoriously disputes And again, when the amorous sorcerer cor
their claim, and asserts his freedom  from    ndr
~their thraldom.        ~          mands Helen of Troy to be revived, as his
their thraldom.
paramour, he addresses her, on her first ap.
" Must crimes be punish'd but by other crimes,    parancein these raptuous lines
And greater criminals?-Back to thy hell      pearance, 
Thou hast no power upon me, that I feel;      " Was this the face that launcht a thousand ships,
Thou never shalt possess me, that I know:     And burn'd the toplesse towers of Ilium?
What I have done is done; I bear within      Sweet Helen! make me immortal with a kiss!
A torture which could nothing gain from thine:    Her lips sucke forth my soule!-see where it flies!
The mind which is immortal makes itself       Come, Helen, come, give me my soule againe!
Requital for its good or ill-derives          Here will I dwell, for heaven is in that lip,
No colour from the fleeting things without;   And all is dross that is not Helena.
But is absorb'd in sufferance or in joy,      O! thou art fairer than the evening ayre,
Born from the knowledge of its own desert.    Clad in the beauty of a thousand starres;
Thou didst not tempt me, and thou couldst not More lovely than the monarch of the skyes
tempt me:                             In wanton Arethusa's azure arms!"
I have not been thy dupe, nor am thy preyBut was my own destroyer, and will be         The catastrophe, too, is bewailed in verses of
NIy own hereafter.-Back, ye baffled fiends!  great elegance and classical beauty.
The hand of death is on me-but not yours!
[The Demons disappear." —pp. 74, 75. "Cut is the branch that might have growne full
And burned is Apollo's laurel bough    [straight,
There are great faults, it must be admitted, That sometime grew within this learned man.




RELIQUES OF ROBERT BURNS.                             83
Faustus is gone?-regard his hellish fall,  place it much more in contrast, than in any
Whose fiendful torture may exhort the wise,  terms of comparison, with that of his noble
Only to wonder at unlawful things,"       successor. In the tone and pitch of the comBut these, and many other smooth and position, as well as in the character of the
fanciful verses in this curious old drama, diction in the more solemn parts, the piece
prove nothing, we think, against the origi- before us reminds us much more of the Pronality of Manfred; for there is nothing to be metheus of 2Eschylus, than of any more
found there of the pride, the abstraction, and modern performance. The tremendous solithe heart-rooted misery in which that origi- tude of the principal person-the supernatural
nality consists. Faustus is a vulgar sorcerer, beings with whom alone he holds communion
tempted to sell his soul to the Devil for the -the guilt-the firmness-the misery-are
ordinary price of sensual pleasure, and earthly all points of resemblance, to which the,power and glory-and who shrinks and shud- grandeur of the poetic imagery only gives a!ders in agony when the forfeit comes to be more striking effect. The chief differences
)exacted. The style, too, of Marlowe, though are, that the subject of the Greek poet was?elegant and scholarlike, is weak and childish sanctified and exalted by the established beicompared with the depth and force of much lief of his country; and that his terrors are
~of what we have quoted from Lord Byron; nowhere tempered with the sweetness which
and the disgusting buffoonery and low farce breathes from so many pqssages of his Engof which his piece is principally made up, lish rival.
(3anuarV, 1          9lgg.)
Reliques of ROBERT BURNS, consisting chiefly of Original Letters, Poems, and Critical Observations on Scottish Songs. Collected and published by R. H. CROMEK.  8vo. pp. 450.
London: 1808.
BURNS is certainly by far the greatest of our childhood; and, co-operating with the solitude
poetical prodigies-from Stephen Duck down of his rural occupations, were sufficient to
-to Thomas Dermody. They are forgotten rouse his ardent and ambitious mind to the
already; or only remembered for.derision. love and the practice of poetry. He had about
But the name of Bums, if we are not mis- as much scholarship, in short, we imagine, as
taken, has not yet "gathered all its fame;" Shakespeare; and far better models to form
and will endure long after those circumstan- his ear to harmony, and train his fancy to
ces are forgotten which contributed to its first graceful invention.
notoriety. So much indeed are we impressed   We ventured, on a former occasion, to say
with a sense of his merits, that we cannot something of the effects of regular education,
help thinking it a derogation from them to and of the general diffusion of literature, in
consider him as a prodigy at all; and are con- repressing the vigour and originality of all
vinced that he will never be rightly estimated kinds of mental exertion. That speculation
as a poet, till that vulgar wonder be entirely was perhaps carried somewhat too far; but
repressed which was raised on his having if the paradox have proof any where, it is in
been a ploughman. It is true, no doubt, that its application to poetry. Among well eduhe was born in an humble station; and that cated people, the standard writers of this
much of his early life was devoted to severe description are at once so venerated and so
labour, and to the society of his fellow-labour- familiar, that it is thought equally impossible
ers. But he was not himself either unedu- to rival them, as to write verses without atcated or illiterate; and was placed in a situa- tempting it. If there be one degree of fame
tion more favourable, perhaps, to the develop- which excites emulation, there is another
ment of great poetical talents, than any other which leads to despair: Nor can we conceive
which could have been assigned him. He any one less likely to be added to the short
was taught, at a very early age, to read and list of original poets, than a young man of fine
write; and soon after acquired a competent fancy and delicate taste, who has acquired a
knowledge of French, together with the ele- high relish for poetry, by perusing the most
ments of Latin and Geometry. His taste for celebrated writers, ane. conversing wit"_ the
reading was encouraged by his parents and most intelligent judges. The head of such a
many of his associates; and, before he had person is filled, of course, with all the splendid
ever composed a single stanza, he was not passages of ancient and modern authors, and
only familiar with many prose writers, but with the fine and fastidious remarks which
far more intimately acquainted with Pope, have been made even on those passages.
Shakespeare, and Thomson, than nine tenths When he turns his eyes, therefore, on his
of the youth that now leave our schools for own conceptions or designs, they can scarcethe university. Those authors, indeed, with ly fail to appear rude and contemptible. He
some old collections of songs, and the lives of is perpetually haunted and depressed by the
Hannibal and of Sir William Wallace, were ideal presence of those great masters. and
kis habitual study from the first days of his their exacting critics. He is aware to'what




836                                  POETRY.
comparisons his productions wil be subjected stage of their history, and in a period cone
among his own friends and associates; and paratively rude and unlettered. Homer wen
recollects the derision with which so many forth, like the morning star, before the dawri
rash adventurers have been chased back to of literature in Greece, and almost all the
their obscurity. Thus, the merit of his great great and sublime poets of modem  Europe
predecessors chills, instead of encouraging his are already between two and three hundred
ardour; and the illustrious names which have years old. Since that time, although books
already reached to the summit of excellence, and readers, and opportunities of reading, are
act like the tall and spreading trees of the multiplied a thousand fold, we have improved
forest. which overshadow and strangle the chiefly in point and terseness of expression,
saplings which may have struck root in the in the art of raillery, and in clearness and
soil below-and afford efficient shelter to simplicity of thought. Force, richness, and
nothing but creepers and parasites.       variety of invention, are now at least as rare
There is, no doubt, in some few individuals, as ever. But the literature and refinement of
"that strong divinity of soul';-that decided the age does not exist at all for a rustic and
and irresistible vocation to glory, which, in illiterate individual; and, consequently, the
spite of all these obstructions, calls out, per- present time is to him what the rude times
haps once or twice in a century, a bold and of old were to the vigorous writers which
original poet from the herd of scholars and adorned them.
academical literati. But the natural tendency   But though, for these and for other reasons,
of their studies, and by far their most cornm- we can see no propriety in regarding the
mon effect, is to repress originality, and dis- poetry of Burns chiefly as the wonderful work
courage enterprise; and either to change those of a peasant, and thus admiring it much in
whom nature meant for poets, into mere read- the same way as if it had been written with
ers of poetry, or to bring them out in the form  his toes; yet there are peculiarities in his
of witty parodists, or ingenious imitators. In- works which remind us of the lowness of his
dependent of the reasons which have been origin, and faults for which the defects of his
already suggested. it will perhaps be found, education afford an obvious cause, if not a
too, that necessity is the mother of invention, legitimate apology. In forming a correct esin this as well as in the more vulgar arts; or, timate of these works, it is necessary to take
at least, that inventive genius will frequently into account those peculiarities.
slumber in inaction, where the preceding in-   The first is, the undiciplinedl harshness and
genuity has in part supplied the wants of the acrimony of his invective. The great boast
owner.  A solitary and uninstructed man. of polished life is the delicacy, and even the
with lively feelings and an inflammable imagi- generosity of its hostility —that quality which
nation, will often be irresistibly led to exer- is still the characteristic, as it furnishes the
cise those gifts, and to occupy and relieve his denomination, of a gentleman-that principle
mind in poetical composition: But if his edu- which forbids us to attack the defenceless, to
cation, his reading, and his society supply strike the fallen, or to mangle the slain-and
him with an abundant store of images and enjoins us, in forging the shafts of satire, to
emotions, he will probably think but little of increase the polish exactly as we add to their
those internal resources, and feed his mind keenness or their weight. For this, as well
contentedly with what has been provided by as for other things, we are indebted to chivalthe industry of others.                   ry; and of this Burns had none. His ingeniTo say nothing, therefore, of the distractions ous and amiable biographer has spoken reand the dissipation of mind that belong to the peatedly in praise of his talents for satirecommerce of the world, nor of the cares of we think, with a most unhappy partiality.
minute accuracy and high finishing which are His epigrams and lampoons appear to us, one
imposed on the professed scholar, there seem  and all, unworthy of him;-offensive from
to be deeper reasons for the separation of their extreme coarseness and violence-and
originality and accomplishment; and for the contemptible from their want of wit or brilpartiality which has led poetry to choose liancy. They seem to have been written, not
almost all her prime favourites among the re- out of playful malice or virtuous indignation,
cluse and uninstructed. A youth of quick but out of fierce and ungovernable anger. His
parts, in short, and creative fancy-with just whole raillery consists in railing; and his
so much reading as to guide his ambition, and satirical vein displays itself chiefly in calling
roughhew his notions of excellence-if his lot names and in swearing. We say this mainly
be thrown in humble retirement, where he with a reference to his personalities. In many
has no reputation to lose, and where he can of his more general representations of life and
easily hope to excel all that he sees around manners, there is no doubt much that may be
him, is much more likely, we think, to give called satirical, mixed up with admirable huhimself up to poetry, and to train himself to mour, and description of inimitable vivacity.
habits of invention, than if he had been en-   There is a similar want of polish, or at least
cumbered by the pretended helps of extended of respectfulness, in the general tone of his
study and literary society.               gallantry. He has written with more passion,
If these observations should fail to strike perhaps, and more variety of natural feeling,
of themselves, they may perhaps derive ad- on the subject of love, than any other poet
ditional weight from considering the very re- whatever-but with a fervour that is somemarkable fact, that almost all the great poets times indelicate, and seldom accommodated
of every country have appeared in an early to the timidity and "sweet austere comn.




RELIQUES OF ROBERT BURNS.                              337
posure" of women of refinement. He has and that the excuse of impetuous feeling can
expressed admirably the feelings of an en- hardly ever be justly pleaded for those who
amoured peasant, who, however refined or neglect the ordinary duties of life, must be
eloquent he may be, always approaches his apparent, we think, even to the least reflectmistress on a footing of equality; but has ing of those sons of fancy and song. It renever caught that tone of chivalrous gallantry quires no habit of deep thinking, nor any thing
which uniformly abases itself in the presence more, indeed, than the information of an honest
of the object of its devotion. Accordingly, heart, to perceive that it is cruel and base to
instead of sating for a smile, or melting in a spend, in vain superfluities, that money which
tear, his muse deals in nothing but locked belongs of right to the pale industrious tradesembraces and midnight rencontres; and, even man and his famishing infants; or that it is p
in his complimentary effusions to ladies of vile prostitution of language, to talk of that
the highest rank, is for straining them to the man's generosity or goodness of heart who
bosom of her impetuous votary. It is easy. sits raving about friendship and philanthropy
accordingly, to see from his correspondence, in a tavern, while his wife's heart is breaking
that many of his female patronesses shrunk at her cheerless fireside, and his children
from the vehement familiarity of his admira- pining in solitary poverty.
tion; and there are even some traits in the   This pitiful cant of careless feeling and
volumes before us, from which we can gather, eccentric genius, according]y, has never found
that he resented the shyness and estrange- much favour in the eyes of English sense and
ment to which those feelings gave rise, with morality. The most signal effect which it
at least as little chivalry as he had shown in ever produced, was on the muddy brains of
producing them.                           some German youth, who are said to have
But the leading vice in Burns' character, left college in a body to rob on the highway.
and the cardinal deformity, indeed, of all his because Schiller had represented the captain
productions, was his contempt, or affectation of a gang as so very noble a creature.-But
of contempt, for prudence, decency, and reg-  in this country, we believe, a predilection for
ularity; and his admiration of thoughtless- that honourable profession must have preness, oddity, and vehement sensibility;-his ceded this admiration of the character. Th.e
belief, in short, in the dispensing power of style we have been speaking of, accordingly,
genius and social feeling, in all matters of is now the heroics only of the hulks and the
morality and common sense. This is the house. of correction; and has no chance, we
vT,-y slang of the worst German plays, and suppose, of being greatly admired, except in
tne lowest of our town-made novels: nor can the farewell speech of a young gentleman
ally thing be more lamentable, than that it preparing for Botany Bay.
sinl. 1.i have found a patron in such a man as   It is humiliating to think how deeply Bums
l!-.Ls, and communicated to many of his pro- has fallen into this debasing error. He is perductions a character of immorality, at cnce petually making a parade of his thoughtless-.
contemptible and hateful. It is blut too true, ness, inflammability, and imprudence, and:
that me} of the highest genius have frequently talking with much complacency and exulta-.
sp-ct hurried by their passions into a violation tion of the offence he has occasioned to the:
of prudence and duty; and there is some- sober and correct part of mankind. Thisthing generous, at least, in the apology which odious slang infects almost all his prose, and.
their admirers may make for them, on the a very great proportion of his poetry; and'is,
score of their keener feelings and habitual we are persuaded, the chief, if not the only
want of reflection. But this apology, which source of the disgust with which, in spite of:
is quite unsatisfactory in the mouth of another, his genius, we know that he is regarded by;ocomes an insult and an absurdity whenever many very competent and liberal judges. His
it proceeds from their own. A man may say apology, too. we are willing to believe, is to
of his friend, that he is a noble-hearted fellow  be found in the original lowness of his situs-too generous to be just, and with too much tion, and the slightness of his acqu3intancedpirit to be always prudent and regular. But with the world. With his talents and powers
he cannot be allowed to say even this of him- of observation, he could not have seen much
self: and still less to represent himself as a of the beings who echoed this raving, without
hairbrained sentimental soul, constantly car- feeling for them that distrust and contempt.
tied away by fine fancies and visions of love which would have made him blush.to think
and philanthropy, and born to confound and he had ever stretched over them the protectdes.ise the cold-blooded sons of prudence ing shield of his genius.
and sobriety. This apology, indeed, evidently   Akin to this most lamentable trait of vuldestroys itself: For it shows that conduct to garity, and indeed in some measure arising
be the result of deliberate system, which it out of it, is that perpetual boast of his own
affects at the same time to justify as the fruit independence, which is obtruded upon the 
of mere thoughtlessness and casual impulse. readers of Burns in almost every page of his.
Such protestations, therefore, will always be writings. The sentiment itself is noble, and:
treated, as they deserve, not only with con- it is often finely expressed;-but a gentleman
tempt, but with incredulity; and their mag- would only have expressed it when he was
nanimous authors set down as determined insulted or provoked; and would never have
profligates, who seek to disguise their selfish- made it a spontaneous theme to those friends
ness under a name somewhat less revolting. in whose estimation he felt that his honour.
That profligacy is almost always selfishness, stood clear. It is mixed up, too, in Burnm
22




338                                  POETRY.
with too fierce a tone of defiance; and indi- to lay it down as our opinion-:that his poetly
cates rather the pride of a sturdy peasant, is far superior to his prose; that his Scottish
than the calm  and natural elevation of a compositions are greatly to be preferred to his
generous mind.                            English ones; and that his Songs will probaThe last of the symptoms of rusticity which bly outlive all his other productions. A very
we think it necessary to notice in the works few remarks on each of these subjects will
of this extraordinary man, is that frequent comprehend almost all that we have to say of
mistake of mere exaggeration and violence, the volumes now before us.
for force and sublimity, which has defaced   The prose works of Burns consist a.most
so much of his prose composition, and given entirely of his letters. They bear, as we-ll as
an air of heaviness and labour to a good deal his poetry, the seal and the impress of his
of his serious poetry. The truth is, that his genius; but they contain much more bad
forte was in humour and in pathos-or rather taste, and are written with far more apparent
in tenderness of feeling; and that he has very labour. His poetry was almost all written
seldom  succeeded, either where mere wit primarily from feeling, and only secondarily
and sprightliness or where great energy and from ambition. His letters seem to have been
weight of sentiment were requisite. He had nearly all composed as exercises, and for disevidently a very false and crude notion of play. There are few of them written with
what constituted strength of writing; and in- simplicity or plainness; and though natural
stead of that simple and brief directness enough as to the sentiment, they are generally
which stamps the character of vigour upon very strained and elaborate in the expression.
every syllable, has generally had recourse to A very great proportion of them, too, relate
a mere accumulation of hyperbolical expres- neither to facts nor feelings peculiarly consions, which encumber the diction instead of nected with the author or his correspondentexalting it, and show the determination to be but are made up of general declamation,
impressive, without the power of executing moral reflections, and vague discussions-all
it. This error also we are inclined to ascribe evidently composed for the sake of effect, and
entirely to the defects of his education. The frequently introduced with long complaints of
value of simplicity in the expression of pas- having nothing to say, and of the necessity
sion, is a lesson, we believe, of nature and of and difficulty of letter-writing.
genius;-but its importance in mere grave   By far the best of those compositions, are
and impressive writing, is one of the latest such as we should consider as exceptions from
discoveries of rhetorical experience.     this general character —such as contain some
With the allowances and exceptions we specific information as to himself, or are sughave now stated, we think Burns entitled to gested by events or observations directly apthe rank of a great and original genius. He plicable to his correspondent. One of the
has in all his compositions great force of con- best, perhaps, is that addressed to Dr. Moore
ception; and great spirit and animation in its containing an account of his early life, of
expression. He has taken a large range which Dr. Currie has made such a judicious
through the region of Fancy, and naturalized use in his Biography. It is written with great
himself in almost all her climates. He has clearness and characteristic effect, and congreat humour-great powers of description-  tains many touches of easy humour and natugreat pathos-and great discrimination of ral eloquence. We are struck, as we open
character. Almost every thing that he says the. book accidentally, with the following
has spirit and originality; and every thing that original application of a classical image, by
he says well, is characterized by a charming this unlettered rustic. Talking of the first
facility, which gives a grace even to occa- vague aspirations of his own gigantic mind,
sional rudeness, and communicates to.the he says-we think very finely-" I had felt
reader a delightful sympathy with the sponta- some early stirrings of ambition; but they
neous soaring and conscious inspiration of the were the blind gropings of Homer's Cyclop
poet.                                     round the walls of his cave!"  Of his other
Considering the reception which these letters, those addressed to Mrs. Dunlop are,
works have met with from the public, and the in our opinion,.by far the best. He appears,
long period during which the greater part of from first to last, to have stood somewhat in
them  have been in their possession, it may awe of this excellent lady; and to have been
appear superflous to say any thing as to their no less sensible of her sound judgment and
characteristic or peculiar merit. Tliough the strict sense of propriety, than of her steady, ultimate judgment of the public,.however, be and generous partiality. The following pasalways sound, or at least decisive as to its sage we think is striking and characteristic:general result, it is not always very apparent
upon what grounds it has proceeded; nor in   "I own myself so little a Presbyterian, that I
consequence of what, or in spite of what, it approve of set times and seasons of more than ordi-; has been obtained. In Burns' works there is nary acts of devotion, for breaking in on that habituated routine of life and thought which is so apt to
-much to censure, as well as much to praise; reduce our existence to a kind of instinct, or even'and as time has not yet separated his ore from  sometimes, anid with some minds, to a state very
its dross. it may be worth while to state, in a little superior to mere machinery.
very general way, what we presume to antici-   "This cdy; the first Sunday of May; a breezy,
pate as the result of this separation. Without blue-skyed noon, some time about the beginning,
apate as the result of this separation. Without and a hoary mornft and calm sunny day about the
i pretending to enter at all into the comparative end of autumn; —ithese, time out of mind, have,merit of particular passages we may venture been with me a knfid of holiday.




RELIQUES OF ROBERT BURNS.                                    331
1 believe I owe this to that glorious paper in the   " Honoured Sir,-I have purposeljr delayed wri.
Spectator,' The Vision of Mirza;' a piece that ting, in the hope that I should have the pleasure of
struck my young fancy before I was capable of fix- seeing you on New-year's Day; but work comes
ing an idea to a word of three syllables.' On the so hard upon us, that I do not choose to be absent
5th day of the moon, which, according to the custom on that account, as well as for some other little
of my forefathers, I always keep holy, after having reasons, which I shall tell you at meeting.  My
washed myself, and offered up my morning devo- health is nearly the same as when you were here,
tions, I ascended the high hill of Bagdat, in order to only my sleep is a little sounder, and, on the whole,
pass the rest of the day in meditation and prayer.'  I am rather better than otherwise, though I mend
"We know nothing, or next to nothing, of the by very slow degrees. The weakness of my nerves
substance or structure of our souls, so cannot ac- has so debilitated my mind, that I dare neither recount for those seeming caprices in them, that one view past wants, nor look forward into futurity; for
should be particularly pleased with this thing, or the least anxiety or perturbation in my breast prostruck with that, which, on minds of a different duces most unhappy effects on my whole frame.
cast, makes no extraordinary impression. I have Sometimes, indeed, when for an hour or two my
some favourite flowers in spring; among which are spirits are a little lightened, I glimmer a little into
the mountain-daisy, the hare-bell, the fox-glove, the futurity; but my principal, and indeed my only
wild brier-rose, the budding birch, and the hoary pleasurable employment, is looking backwards and
hawthorn, that I view and hang over with particular forwards, in a moral and religious way. I am quite
delight. I never hear the loud, solitary whistle of transported at the thought, that ere long, perhaps
the curlew in a summer noon, or'the wild mixing very soon, I shall bid an eternal adieu to all the
cadence of a troop of grey plover in an autumnal pains, and uneasinesses, and disquietudes of this
morning, without feeling an elevation of soul, like weary life; for I assure you I am heartily tired of
the enthusiasm of devotion or poetry. Tell me, my it; and, if I do not very much deceive myself, I
dear friend, to what can this be owing? Are we a could contentedly and gladly resign it.
piece of machinery, which, like the Eolian harp,'The soul, uneasy, and confin'd at home
passive, takes the impression of the passing acci-   Rests and expatiates in a life to come.'
dent? Or do these workings argue something
within us above the trodden clod?"-Vol. ii. pp.   "It is for this reason I am more pleased with
195-197.                                       the 15th, 16th, and 17th verses of the 7th chapter
of the Revelations, than with any ten times as
To this we may add the following passage, many verses in the whole Bible, and would not exas a part, indeed, of the same picture:-       change the noble enthusiasm with which they inspire me for all that this word has to offer. As for
this world, I despair of ever making a figure in it.
" There is scarcely any earthly object gives me I am not formed for the bustle of the busy, nor the
more-I do not know if I should call it pleasure- flutter of the gay. I shall never again be capable
but something which exalts me, something which  of entering into such scenes. Indeed I am altoenraptures me-than to walk inm the sheltered side gether unconcerned for the thoughts of this life. I
of a wood, or high plantation, in a cloudy winter- foresee that poverty and obscurity probably await
day, and hear the stormy wind howling among the me; and I am in some measure prepared, and
sao t re   vto         mn1a      I           es,   and ravm in some measurthe prepared, and
trees, and raving over the plain! It is my best daily preparing to meet them. I have but just time
season for devotion: my mind is wrapt up in a kind and paper to return to you my grateful thanks for
of enthusiasm to Him, who, in the pompous lan- the lessons of virtue and piety you have given me;
guage of the Hebrew bard, "walks on the wings which were too much neglected at the time of
of the wind.'"'-Vol. i. p. 11.                 giving them, but which, I hope, have been rememThe following is one of the best and most bered ere it is yet too late."-Vol. i. pp. 99-101.
striking of a whole series of eloquent hypo-    Before proceeding to take any particular
chondriasm.                                    notice of his poetical compositions, we must
take leave to apprise our Southern readers,
"After six weeks' confinement, I am beginning that all his best pieces are written in Scotch;
to walk across the room. They have been six hor- and that it is impossible for them to form any
rible weeks;-anguish and low spirits made me and thate judgment mpossible or them to form a
unfit to read, write, or think.                adequate judgment of their merits, without a
" I have a hundred times wished that one could pretty long residence among those who still
resign life as an officer resigns a commission: for I use that language. To be able to translate
would not take in any poor, ignorant wretch, by the words, is but a small part of the knowselling out. Lately I was a sixpenny private; and, ledge that is necessary. The whole genius
God knows, a miserable soldier enough: now Inecessary.  The whole genius
march to the campaign, a starving cadet-a little and idiom of the language must be familiar;
more conspicuously wretched.                   and the characters, and habits, and ausccia"I am ashamed of all this; for though I do want tions of those who speak it.  We beg leave
bravery for the warfare of life, I could wish, like too, in passing, to observe, that this Scotch is
some other soldiers, to have as much fortitude or not to be considered as a provincial dialectcunning as to dissemble or conceal my cowardice."  th  vehicle only of rustic vulgarity and rude
Vol. ii. pp. 127, 128.   local humour.  It is the language of a whole
One of the most striking letters in the col- country-long an independent kingdom, and
lection, and, to us, one of the most interest- still separate in laws, character, and manners.
ing, is the earliest of the whole series; being  It is by no means peculiar to the vulgar; but
addressed to his father in 1781, six or seven  is the common speech of the whole nation in
years before his name had been heard of out early life-and, with many of its most exof his own family.  The author was then a alted and accomplished individuals, throughcommon flax-dresser, and his father a poor out their whole existence; and, though it be
peasant;-yet there is not one trait of vul- true that, in later times, it has been, in some
garity, either in the thought or the expression; measure, laid aside by the more ambitious
but, on the contrary a dignity and elevation and aspiring of the present generation, it is
of sentiment, which must have been con- still recollected, even by them, as the familiar
sidered as of good omen in a youth of much  language of their childhood. and of those who
nigher condition.  The letter is as follows:- were the earliest objects'of their love and




340                                     POETRY.
ven'eration. It is connected, in their imagi- delicacy, as well as justness of conception, by
nation, not only with that olden time which  which alone the fastidiousness of an ordinary
is uniformly conceived as more pure, lofty  reader can be reconciled to such representaand simple than the present, but also'with all tions.  The exquisite description of " The
the soft and bright colours of remembered  Cotter's Saturday Night " affords, perhaps, the
childhood and domestic affection.  All its finest example of this sort of pathetic.  Its
phrases conjure up images of schoolday inno- whole beauty cannot, indeed, be discerned
cence, and sports, and friendships which have  but by those whom  experience has enabled
no pattern in succeeding years.  Add to all to judge of the admirable fidelity and comthis, that it is the language of a great body  pleteness of the picture.  But, independent
of poetry, with which almost all Scotchmen  altogether of national peculiarities, and even
are familiar; and, in particular, of a great in spite of the obscurity of the language, we
multitude of songs, written with more tender- think it impossible to peruse the following
ness, nature, and feeling, than any other lyric stanzas without feeling the force of tendercompositions that are extant-and we may  ness and truth:perhaps be allowed to say, that the Scotch is, 
m  reality, a highly poetical language; and    November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh;
The short'ning winter-day is near a close;
that it is an ignorant, as well as an illiberal   The miry beasts retreating frae ihe pleugh;
prejudice, which would seek to confound it         The black'ning trains o' craws to their repose:
with the barbarous dialects of Yorkshire or   The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes,
Devon.  In composing his Scottish poems,           This night his weekly moil is at an end,
therefore, Burns did not merely make an in-   Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes,
etinctive and necessary use of the only dialect    Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend,
And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hamehe could employ.  The last letter which we         ward bend.
have quoted, proves, that before he had penned
a single couplet, he could write in the dialect " At length his lonely cot appears in view,
of England with far greater purity and pro-        Beneath the shelter of an aged tree;
priety than nine tenths of those who are called    Th' expectant wee-things, toddling, stacher thro'
priety than nine tenths o thlose who are called To meet their Dad, wi' flicherin noise an' glee.
well educated in that country.  He wrote in    His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonnily,
Scotch, because the writings which he most         His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile,
aspired to imitate were composed in that   The lisping infant prattling on his knee,
language; and it is evident, from  the varia-      Does a' his weary carking cares beguile,
tions preserved by. Dr. Currie, that he took  An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil.
much greater pains with the beauty and purity  " Belyve the elder bairns come drapping in,
of his expressions in Scotch than in English;      At service out, amang the farmers roun';
and, every one who understands both, must   Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin
admit, with infinitely better success.             A canna errand to a neebor town:
B.t.though wehaveventur b edto saythus.   Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,
But though we have ventured to say thus         In youthfu' bloom, love.sparkling in her e'e,
much in praise of the Scottish poetry of Burns,   Comes hame, perhaps, to shew a braw new gown,
we cannot presume to lay many specimens of         Or deposite her sair-won penny fee,
it before our readers; and, in the few extracts To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.
we may be tempted to make from the volumes  " But hark! a rap comes gently to the door;
before us, shall be guided more by a desire to    Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same,
exhibit what may be intelligible to all our   Tells how a neebor lad came o'er the moor,
-eaders, than by a feeling of what is in itself   To do some errands, and convoy her hame.'f the highest excellence.                      The wily mother sees the conscious flame
We have said that Burns is almost equally       Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek;
e d   s  With heart-struck anxious care,inquires his name,
distinguished for his tenderness and his hu-       While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak;
mour: —we might have added, for a faculty  Weel pleas'd, the mother hears its nae wild, worthof combining them both in the same subject,           less rake.
not altogether without parallel in the older,, Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben:
poets and ballad-makers, but altogether sin-       A srappan youth; he taks the mother's eye;
gular, we think, among modern writers. The    Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en;*
1-assages of pure humour are entirely Scot-        The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye.
tiseh-and untranslateable.  They consist in    The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy.
dixe most picturesque representations of life   Th e mother, wi' a woman's wilcarce can weel behave,
and manners, enlivened, and even exalted by        What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae
traits of exquisite sagacity, and unexpected          grave;                       [the lave.
reflection.  His tenderness is of two sorts; Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's respected like
treat which is combined with circumstances " The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face,
and characters of humble, and sometimes lu-        They, round the ingle, form a circle wide;
dicrous simplicity; and that which is pro-   The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace,
duced by gloomy and distressful impressions        The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride:
acting on a mind of keen sensibility.  The   His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside,
passage.which belong to the former descrip-  His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare;
passages which belong to the former descrip-   Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,
tion are. we think, the most exquisite and         He wales a portion with judicious care;  [air.
original, and, in our estimation, indicate the  And' Let us worship GOD!' he says, with solemn
greatest and most amiable turn of genius; "They chaunt their artless notes in simple guise;
poth as being accompanied by fine and feeling      They tune their hearts, by far the noblest
pictures of humble life, and as requiring that         aim," &c.




RELIQUES OF ROBERT BURNS.                                   34.
Then homeward all take off their sev'ral way;  reader must have felt the effect of this relentThe youngling cottagers retire to rest:    ing nature in the following stanzas:The parent pair their secret homage pay,
And proffer up to Heaven the warm request.   "Lang syne, in Eden's bonie yard,
That He who stills the raven's clam'rous nest,   When youthfu' lovers first were pair'd,
And decks the lily fair in flow'ry pride,      An' all the soul of love they shar'd,
Would, in the way his wisdom sees the best,                      T'he raptur'd hour,
For them and for their little ones provide;    Sweet on the fragrant, flow'ry swaird,
rbut chiefly, in their hearts, with grace divine pre-         "     In shady bower:
side."          Vol. iii. pp. 174-181.
The charm of the fine lines written on turn-   "Then you, ye auld, snic-drawing dog!
Ye came to Paradise incog,
ing up a mouse's nest with a plough, will also     An'Ye gied the infant warld a shog,
be found to consist in the simple tenderness'Maist ruin'd a.
of the delineation.
" But, fare you weel, auld Nickie. ben!
"Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!               O wad ye tak a thought an' men'!
Its silly wa's the wins are strewin!           Ye aiblins might-I Jinna kenAn' naething, now, to big a new ane,                             Still hae a stakeO' foggage green!            I'm wae to think upo' yon den,
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,                              Ev'n for your sake!"
Baith snell and keen!                               Vol. iii. pp. 74-76.
"Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,      The finest examples, however, of this simple
An' weary witlter corin fast,                The finest examples, however, of this simple
An' cozie here beneath the blast,          and unpretending tenderness is to be found in
Thou thought to dwell,    those songs which are likely to transmit the'Till crash! the cruel coulter past       name of Burns to all future generations.  He
Out thro' thy cell.       found this delightful trait in the old Scottish
" That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,   ballads which he took for his model, and upon
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!         which he has improved with a felicity and
Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble,  delicacy of imitation altogether unrivalled in
But house or hald,       the history of literature.  Sometimes it is the
T''o thole the winter's sleety dribble,    brief and simple pathos of the genuine old
An cranreueh cauld!"      ballad  as
Vol. iii. pp. 147.   b allad; as
The verses to a Mountain Daisy, though  " But I look to the West when I lie down to rest
more elegant and picturesque, seem to derive    That happy tioy dreams and my slumbers may be;
their chief beauty from the same tone of sen- For far in the West lives he I love best,
timent.                                          The lad that is dear to my baby and me."
"Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r,         Or, as in this other specimenThou's met me in an evil hour;               "Drumossie moor, Drumossie day!
For I maun crush amnang the stoure               A waefu' day it was to me;
A waefu' day it was to me;
To  spare thee now'i slender stem;  For there I lost my father dear,
To spare thee now is past my pew'r,
Thou bonnie gem!                My father dear, and brethren three.
" Alas! it's no thy neebor sweet,             " Their winding sheet the bluidy clay,
The bonnie Lark, contpanion meet!               Their graves are growing green to see;
Bending thee'mang the dewy weet!              And by them lies the dearest lad
Wi' spreckl'd breast,           That ever blest a woman's e'e!
When upward-springing, blythe to greet         Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
The purpling east.              A bluidy man I trow thou be;
For mony a heart thou hast made sair,
"Cauld blew the bitter-biting north                That ne'er did wrong to thine or thee."
Upon thy early, humble birth;                                             Vol. iv. p. 337.
Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
Amid the storm,           Sometimes it is animated with airy narrative,
Scarce rear'd above the parent earth,      and adorned with images of the utmost eleThy tender form.          gance and beauty.  As a specimen taken at
*' There, in thy scanty mantle clad,         random, we insert the following stanzas:Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread,
Thou lifts thy unassuming head                "And ay she wrought her mamnlie's wark:
In humble guise;                 And ay she sang sae merrilie:
But now the share uptears thy bed,              The blythest bird upon the bush
And low thou lies!"             Had ne'er a lighter heart than she.
Vol. iii. pp. 201, 202.
Vol. iii. pp. 201, 202.  But hawks will rob the tender joys
There are many touches of the same kind             That bless the little.intwhite's nest;
in most of the popular and beautiful poems in       And frost will blight the fairest flowers,
this collection, especially in the Winter Night       And love will break the soundest rest..-the address to his old Mare-the address to    "Young Robie was the brawest lad,
the Devil, &c.; —in all which, though the             The flower and pride of a' the glen;
greater part of the piece be merely ludicrous       And he had owsen, sheep, and kye,
and picturesque, there are traits of a delicate       And wanton naigies nine or ten.
and tender feeling, indicating that unaffected      He gaed vi' Jeanie to the tryste
softness of heart which is always so enchant-         He danc'd wi' Jeanie on the down;
ing.  In the humorous address to the Devil,         And lang ere witless Jeanie wist,
which we have just mentioned, every Scottish          Her heart was tint, her peace was stown,




542                                     POETRY.
" As in the bosom o' the stream                The sensimility which is thus associated
The moon-beam dwells at dewy e'en;      with simple imagery and gentle melancholy,
So trembling, pure, was infant love,      is to us the most winning and attractive. But
Withn the breast o' bonie Jeanp. 80.    Burns has also expressed it when it is merely
the instrument of torture-of keen remorse,
Sometimes, again, it is plaintive and mourn- and tender and agonising regret.  There are
ful-in  the same strain of unaffected sim- some strong traits of the former feeling, in the
nlicity.                      "                poems entitled the Lament, Despondency, &c.;
" O stay, sweet warbling wood-lark, stay,   when, looking back to the times
Nor quit for me the trembling spray!         " When love's luxurious pulse beat high,"
A hapless lover courts thy lay,
Thy soothing fond complaining.          he bewails the consequences of his own irregularities.  There is something cumbrous
L" Again, again that tender part            and inflated, however, in the diction of these
That I may catch thy mouchherheart        pieces. We are infinitely more moved with
Wha kills me wi' disdaining.            his Elegy upon Highland Mary.  Of this first
love of the poet, we are indebted to Mr.
"   Say was thy little mate unkind,       Cromek for a brief, but very striking account,
Oh, nocht but love a    nd sorrow join'd,  from the pen of the poet himself.  In a note
Sic notes o' woe could wauken.          on an early song inscribed to this mistress, he
" iThou tells o' woneverending care;    had recorded in a manuscript book"Thou tells o' never-ending care;
O' speechless grief, and dark despair;       "My Highland lassie was a warm-hearted,
For pity's sake, sweet bird, nae mair!    charming young creature as ever blessed a man
Or my poor heart is broken!"           with generous love. After a pretty long tract of the
Vol. iv. pp. 226, 227.   most ardent reciprocal attachment, we met, by appointment, on the second Sunday of May, in a seWe add the following from Mr. Cromek's questered spot by the Banks of Ayr, where we
new volume; as the original form of the very  spent the day in taking a farewell before she should
popular song given at p. 325, of Dr. Currie's embark for the West Highlands, to arrange matters
fourth volume                                  among her friends for our projected change of life.
At the close of Autumn following, she crossed the
"Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon,           sea to meet me at Greenock: where she had scarce
How can ye blume sae fair;             landed when she was seized with a malignant fever,
How can ye chant, ye little birds,        which hurried my dear girl to the grave in a few
And I sae fu' o' care!                days!-before I could even hear of her illness."
Vol. v. pp. 237, 238.
"Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird
That sings upon the bough;                Mr. Cromek has added, in a note, the folThoti minds me o' the happy days         lowing interesting particulars; though without
When my fause luve was true.           specifying the authority upon which he details
" Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird   them:That sings beside thy mate;              "This adieu was performed with all those simple
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,            and striking ceremonials which rustic sentiment has
And wist na o' my fate.                devised to prolong tender emotions and to inspire
"Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon,             awe. The lovers stood on each side of a small
To see the woodbine twine,             purling brook; they laved their hands in its limpid
And ilka bird sang o' its love,           stream, and holding a Bible between them, proAnd sae did I o' mine.                 nounced their vows to be faithful to each other.
They parted-never to meet again!
" Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose           " The anniversary of Mary Campbell's death (for
Frae aff its thorny tree,              that was her name) awakening in the sensitive mind
And my fause luver staw the rose,         of Burns the most lively emotion, he retired from
But left the thorn wi' me."            his family, then residing on the farm of Ellisland,
Vol. v. pp. 17, 18.   and wandered, solitary, on the banks of the Nith,
and about the farm yard,;- the extremest agitation
Sometimes the rich imagery of the poet's of mind, nearly the wwvle of the night: His agita.
fancy overshadows and almost overcomes the  tion was so great, that he threw himself on the side
leading sentiment.                             of a corn stack, and there conceived his sublime and
tender elegy-his address To Mary in Heaven."
"The merry ploughboy cheers his team,                                      Vol. v. p. 238.
Wi' joy the tentie seedsman stalks,
But life to me's a weary dream,              The poem itself is as follows:A dream of ane that never wauks.          "Thou lingering star, with less'ning ray,
The wanton coot the water sfkims,              That lov'st to greet the early morn,
Amang the reeds the ducklings cry,         AgMy Mary from my soul was tornthe day
The stately swan majestic swims,
And every thing is blest but I.          " 0 Mary! dear departed shade!'J The sheep-herd steeks his faulding slap,       Where is thy place of blissful rest?
And owre the moorlands whistles shrill;    See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?
Wi' wild, unequal, wand'ring step              Hear'st thou the groans that rend this breast t
I meet him on the dewy hill.              " That sacred hour can I forget,
"And when the lark,'tween light and dark,       Can I forget the hallowe grove,
Blythe waukens by the daisy's side,        Where by the winding Ayr we met,
And mounts and sings on flittering wings,      To live one day of parting love
A woe-worn ghaist I hameward glide."-    " Eternity will not efface
Vol. iii. pp. 284, 285.     Those records dear of transports past;




RELIQUES OF ROBERT BURNS.                                  34
TIhy image at our last embrace;               There is another fragment, called also a
Ah! little thought we'twas our last!     Vision, which belongs to a higher order of'Ayr gurgling kiss'd his pebbled shore,      poetry. If Burns had never written any thig
O'erhung with wild woods, thickening, green, else, the power of description, and the vigoui
The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar,      of the whole composition, would have entitled
Twin'd amorous round the raptured scene.    him to the remembrance of posterity.
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,        "The winds were laid, the air was still,
The birds sang love on every spray,             he stars they shot alang the sky
Till too, too soon, the glowing west            The fox was they shot alang the hill,
Proclaim'd the speed of winged day                   w.. t
Proclaim'd the speed of winged day!      And the distant-echoing glens reply.
"Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes,       "The  stream adown its hazelly path,
And fondly broods  with miser care;     A The stream adown its hazelly path,
And fondly broods with miser care;                            
Time but the impression stronger makes,          Was rushing by the ruin'd wa's,
As streams their channels deeper wear.         Whas      e d  istant roaring swells an' fa's.
Whase distant roaring swells an' fa's.
"My Mary, dear departed shade!                   The cauld blue north was streaming forth
Where is thy place of blissful rest            Her lights, wi' hissing eerie din
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid               A
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid               Her lights, wi' hissing eerie din;
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?"  Athort the lift they start and shift,
Vol. i. pp. 125, 126.     Like fortune's favours, tint as win!
Of his pieces of humour, the tale of Tam    " By heedless chance I turn'd mine eyes,
Ohpesf  t tloTAnd by the moon-beam, shook, to see
o' Shanter is probably the best: though there    A stern and stalwart ghaist arise,
are traits of infinite merit in Scotch Drink,      Attir'd as minstrels wont to be.
the Holy Fair, the Hallow E'en, and several
" Had I a statue been o' stane,
of the songs; in all of which, it is very re-      His darin' look had daunted me;
markable, that he rises occasionally into a      And on his bonnet grav'd was plain,
strain of beautiful description or lofty senti-    The sacred posy —Liberty!
ment, far above the pitch of his original con-   And frae his harp sic strains did flow
ception.  The poems of observation on life         Might rous'd the slumbering dead to hear;
and characters, are the Twa Dogs and the         But oh, it was a tale of woe,
various Epistles-all of which show very ex-        As ever met a Briton's ear!
traordinary sagacity and powers of expression.   "He sang wi' joy the former day,
They are written, however, in so broad a dia-       He weeping wail'd his latter timeslect, that we dare not venture to quote any       But what he said, it was nae play,
part of them.  The only pieces that can be         I winna ventur'tin my rhymes."
classed under the head of pure fiction, are                              Vol. iv. 344-346.
the Two Bridges of Ayr, and the Vision. In    Some verses, written for a Hermitage. sound
the last, there are some vigorous and striking like the best parts of Grongar Hill.  The
lines.  We select the passage in which the reader may take these few lines as a speciMuse describes the early propensities of her men:
favourite, rather as being more generally intelligible, than as superior to the rest of the  " As thy day grows warm and high,
Life's meridian flaming nigh,
poem.                                          Dost thou spurn the humble vale?
" I saw thee seek the sounding shore,        Life's proud summits wouldst thou scale 
Delighted with the dashing roar;            Dangers, eagle-pinion'd, bold,
Or when the North his fleecy store         Soar around each cliffy hold,
Drove through the sky,    While cheerful peace, with linnet song,
I saw grim Nature's visage hoar             Chants the lowly dells among."-Vol. iii. p. 299.
Struc-k thy young eye.    There is a little copy of Verses upon a News" Or when the deep-green mantl'd earth      paper at p. 355, of Dr. Currie's fourth volume
Warm cherish'd ev'ry flow'ret's birth,    written in the same condensed style and
And joy and music pouring forth                                                 to be
In ev'ry grove,         only wanting translation into Englsh to be
I saw thee eye the gen'ral mirth          worthy of Swift.
With boundless love.       The finest piece, of the strong and nervous
"When ripen'd fields, and azure skies,      sort, however, is undoubtedly the address of
Call'd forth the reapers' rustling noise,  Robert Bruce to his army at Bannockburn,
I saw thee leave their ev'ning joys,      beginning, "Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace Bled.
And lonely stalk,       The Death Song, beginning,
To vent thy bosom's swelling rise
In-pensive walk.         "Farewell, thou fair day, thou green earth and ye' When youthful love, warm, blushing, strong,    Now gay with the bright setting sun."
Keen-shivering shot thy nerves along,           gay with the bright setting sun."
Those accents grateful to thy tongue,     is to us less pleasing.  There are specimens,
Th' adored Name,        however, of such vigour and emphasis scatI taught tnee how to pour in song,        tered through his whole works, as are sure
To sooth thy flame.     to make themselves and their author remem-'I saw thy pulse's maddening play,          bered; for instance, that noble description of
Wild send thee Pleasure's devious way,    a dying soldier.
Misled by Fancy's meteor-ray,
By Passion driven;      "Nae cauld, faint-hearted doubtings teaze him:
Iut yet the light that led astray          Death comes! wi' fearless eye he sees him;
Was light from heaven!"    Wi' bluidy hand a welcome gi'es him;
Vol. iii. pp. 109, 110.             An' when he fa's,




A44                                      POETRY.
Hi', latest draught o' breathin lea'es him   however, that unless it be taken in connection
In ftlint huzzas!"-Vol. iii. p. 27. with his other works, the present volume hal
The whole song of " For a' that,' is written  little interest, and could not be made the subwith extraordinary spirit.  The first stanza ject of any intelligible observations.  It is
ends-                                         made up of some additional letters, of middling merit —of complete copies of others,
The ma~n's the goud, for a' that.m"   of which Dr. Currie saw  reason to publish
only extracts-of a number of remarks, b3
— All the songs, indeed abound with traits of Burns, on old Scottish songs-and, finally, oi
this kind. We select the following at random: a few additional poems and songs, certainly
"O woman, lovely woman, fair!                 not disgraceful to the author, but scarcely
An angel form's faun to thy share;           fitted to add to his reputation.  The world,'Twad been o'er meikle to've gi'en thee mair,   however, is indebted, we  think, to  Mr.
1 mean atn angel mind."-Vol. iv. p. 330.     Cromek's industry for this addition to so
We dare not proceed further in specifying popular an author; —and the friends of the
the merits of pieces which have been so long poet, we are sure, are indebted to his good
published.  Before concluding upon this sub- taste, moderation, and delicacy, for having
ject, however, we must beg leave to express confined it to the pieces which  are now
our dissent from the poet's amiable and judi- printed.  Burns wrote many rash —many
cious biographer, in what he says of the gene- violent, and many indecent things; of which
ral harshness and rudeness of his versification. we have no doubt many specimens must
Dr. Currie, we are afraid, was scarcely Scotch- have fallen into the hands of so diligent a
man enough to comprehend the whole prosody collector.  He has, however, carefully supof the verses to which he alluded.  Most of pressed every thing of this description; and
the Scottish pieces are, in fact, much more shown that tenderness for his author's memcarefully versified than the English; and we ory, which is the best proof of the veneraappeal to our Southern readers, whether there tion with which he regards his talents.  We
be any want of harmony in the following shall now  see if there be any thing in the
stanza:                                      volume which  deserves to be particularly
noticed.
"Wild beats my heart to trace your steps,       The Preface is very amiable, and well
Whose ancestors, in days of yore,         written.  Mr. Cromek speaks with becoming
Thro' hostile ranks and ruin'd gaps,
Old Scotia's bloody lion bore:            respect and affection of Dr. Currie, the learned
Even I who sing in rustic lore,             biographer and first editor of the poet, and
Haply my sires have left their shed,      with great modesty of his own qualifications.
And fac'd grim danger's loudest roar,
Bold-following where your fathers led!"     " As an apology (he says) for any defects of my
Vol. iii. p. 233.   own that may appear in this publication, I beg to
observe that I am by profession an artist, and not an
The following is not quite English; but it author. In the manner of laying them before the
is intelligible to all readers of English, and  public, I honestly declare that I have done my
may satisfy them that the Scottish song-writer best; and I trust I may fairly presume to hope,
was not habituallynegligent of hisnumbers:-  that the man who has contribted to extend the
bounds of literature, by adding another genuine
" their groves o' sweet myrtle let foreign lands volume to the writings of Robert Burns, has somo
reckon,                        [fume; claim on the gratitude of his countrymen. On this
Where bright-beaming summers exalt the per- occasion, I certainly feel something of that sublime
Far dearer to me yon lone glen o' green breckan, and heart-swelling gratification, which he experiWi' the burn stealing under the lang yellow  ences who casts another stone. on the CAIRN of a
broom.                                great and lamented chief." —Preface, pp. xi. xii.
Far dearer to me are yon humble broom bowers,
Where the blue bell and gowan lurk lowly un-   Of the Letters, which occupy nearly half
seen:                                 the volume, we cannot, on the whole, express
For there, lightly tripping amang the wild flowers, any more favourable opinion than that which
A-listening the linnet, aft wanders my Jean.   we have already ventured to pronounce on
" Tho' rich is the breeze in their gay sunny vallies, the prose compositions of this author in genAnd cauld, Caledonia's blast on the wave;    eral.  Indeed they abound, rather more than
Their sweet-scented woodlands that skirt the those formerly published. in ravings about senproud palace,                 [slaven! sibility and imprudence'-in common swearWhat are they? The haunt o' the tyrant and
The slave's spicy forests, and gold-bubbling rng, and in professions of love for whisky.
fountains,                            By far the best, are those which are addressed
The brave Caledonian views wi' disdain;   to Miss Chalmers; and that chiefly because
He wanders as free as the winds of his mountains, they seem to be written with less effort, and at
Save love's willing fetters, the chains o' his the same time with more respect for his corJean.' -Vol. iv. pp. 228, 229.        respondent.  The following was written at a
If we have been able to inspire our readers most critical period of his life; and the good'with any portion of our own admiration for feelings and good sense which it displays,
this extraordinary writer, they will readily  only make us regret more deeply that they
forgive us for the irregularity of which we were not attended with greater firmness.
have  been guilty, in introducing so long an   A"Shortly after my last return to Ayrshire, I
account of his whole works under colour of married' my Jean.' This was not in consequence,the additional volume of which we have pre- of the attachment of romance perhaps; but I had a
fixed the title to this article. The truth is; long and much lov'd fellow-creature's happiness ox




RELIQUES OF ROBERT BURNS.                                     345
misery in my determination, and I durst not trifle refined and accomplished Woman was a being al
with so important a deposite.  Nor have I any  most new to him, and of which he had tbrmed but
cause to repent it. If I have not got polite tattle, a very inadequate idea."-Vol. v. pp. 68, 69.
modish manners, and fashionable dress, I am not
sickened and disgusted with the multiform curse He adds also, in another place, that "the
of boarding-school affectation; and I have got the poet, when questioned about his habits of
handsomest figure, the sweetest temper, the sound- composition, replied, —'All my poetry is the
est constitution, and the kindest heartin the county! effect of easy composition, but of laborious
Mrs. Burns believes, as firmly as her creed, that I correction.' "  It is pleasing to know  those
am le plus bel esprit, et le plus honnete homme in  things-even if they were really as trifling as
the universe; although she scarcely ever in her life, thingseven if they were really as trifling as
except the Scriptures of the Old and New Testa. to a superficial observer they may probably
ment, and the Psalms of David in metre, spent five appear.  There is a very amiable letter from
minutes together on either prose or verse.-I must Mr. Murdoch, the poet's early preceptor, at
except also from this last, a certain late publication  p. 111; avd a very splendid one from  Mr.
of Scots Poems, which she has perused very de- Bloomfield 11
voutly, and all the ballads in the country, as she has
(O the partial lover! you will cry) the finest " wood. rare, among the minor poets, than a candid
note wild" I ever heard.-I am the more particular acknowledgment of their own inferiority, we
in this lady's character, as I know she will henceforth  think Mr. Bloomfield well entitled to have his
have the honour of a share in your best wishes. magnanimity recorded.
She is still at Mauchline, as I am building my
house: for this hovel that I shelter in while occa-  The illustrious soul that has left amongst us the
sionally here, is pervious to every blast that blows, name of Burns, has often been lowered down to a
and every shower that falls; and I ani only pre- comparison wih me; but the comparison exists
served from being chilled to death, by being suffo- more in circumstances than in essentials. That
cated with smoke.  I do not find my farm that man stood up with the stamp of superior intellect
pennyworth I was taught to expect; but I believe, on his brow; a visible greatness: and great and
in time, it may be a saving bargain.  You will be patriotic subjects would only have called into action
pleased to hear that I have laid aside idle eclat, the powers of his mind, which lay inactive while he
and bind every day after my reapers.           played calmly and exquisitely the pastoral pipe.
"To save me from that horrid situation of at any    "The letters to which I have alluded in my pre
time going down, in a losing bargain of a farm, to face to the' Rural Tales,' were friendly warnings,
misery, I have taken my excise instructions, and pointed with immediate reference to the fate of
have my commission in my pocket for any emerg- that extraordinary man.' Remember Bu-ns,' has
ency of fortune! If I could set all before your been the watchword of my friends. I do remember
view, whatever disrespect you, in common with the Burns; but I am not Burns! I have neither his
world, have for this business, I know you would fire to fan, or to quench; nor his passions to control!
approve of my idea."-Vol. v. pp. 74, 75.       Where then is my merit, if I make a peaceful
voyage on a smooth sea, and with no mutiny on
We may add the following for the sake of board?"-Vol. v. pp. 135, 136.
connection.                                       The observations on Scottish songs, which
"I know not how the word exciseman, or still fill nearly one hundred and fifty pages, are,
more opprobrious, gauger, will sound in your ears. on the whole, minute and trifling; though the
I too have seen the day when my auditory nerves exquisite justness of the poet's taste, and his
would have felt very delicately on this subject; but fine relish of simplicity in this species of coma wife and children are things which have a won-   osition is no less remarkable here than in
derful power in blunting these kind of sensations. p    is no les s re markable  h er e than  in
Fifty pounds a year for life, and a provision for his correspondence with Mr. Thomson. Of
widows and orphans, you will allow, is no bad set- all other kinds of poetry, he was so indulgent
tlement for a poet. For the ignominy of the pro- a judge, that he may almost be termed an infession, I have the encouragement which I once discriminate admirer.  We find, too  from
heard a recruiting serjeant give to a numerous, if' these observations, that several songs and
not a respectable audience, in the streets of Kilmarnock-' Gentlemen, for your further and better en- pieces of songs, which he printed as genuine
couragement, I can assure you that our regiment is antiques, were really of his own composition.
the most blackguard corps under the crown, and    The commonplace book, from  which Dr.
consequently with us an honest fellow has the surest Currie had  formerly selected  all that he
chance of preferment.' "-Vol. v. pp. 99, 100.  thought worth publication, is next given entire
It would have been as well if Mr. Cromek  by Mr. Cromek.  We were quite as well, we
had left out the history of Mr. Hamilton's dis- think, with  the extracts; —at all events, there
sensions with his parish minister, —Burns' was no need for reprinting what had been
apology to a gentleman with whom he had a given by Dr. Currie; a remark which is equally
drunken squabble,-and the anecdote of his applicable to the letters of which we had forbeing used to ask for more liquor, when visit- merly extracts.
ing in the country, under the pretext of forti-    Of the additional poems which form  the
fying _imself against the terrors of a little  concluding part of the volume, we have but
wood ie had to pass through in going home. little to say.  We have little doubt of their auThe most interesting passages, indeed, in this thenticity; for, though the editor has omitted,
part of the volume, are those for which we are  in almost every instance, to specify the source
ilndebted to Mr. Dromek himself. He informs from which they were derived, they certainly
us, for instance, in a note,                   bear the stamp of the author's manner and
genius.  They are not, however, of his purest
"One of Burns' remarks, when he first came to metal, nor marked with his finest die: several
Edinburgh, was, that between the Men of rustic of them have apeared in print already; and
life, and the polite world, he observed little differ-               p
ence-that in the former, though unpolished by  the songs are, as usual, the best.  This little
fashion, and unenlightened by science, he had found  lamentation of a desolate damsel, is tender
much observatior and much intelligence;-but a and pretty.




146                                  POETRY.' My father put mt frae his door,       and the benefits of those generous andi hi
My friends they hae disown'd me a';  manising pursuits, are by no means confined
But I hae ane will tak my part,       to thots whom leisure and affluence have
courted to their enjoyment. That much of
"A pair o' gloves he gave to me,        this is peculiar to Scotland, and may be pro.
And silken snoods he gave me twa;    perly referred to our excellent institutions for
And I will wear them for his sake,    parochialeducation and to the natural sobriety
The bonnie lad that's far awa.       parochial education, and to the natural sobriety
The bonnie lad that's tar awa.
and prudence of our nation, may certainly be
"The weary winter soon will pass,       allowed: but we have no doubt that there is
And spring will cleed the birken-shaw;    a good deal of the same principle in England,
And my sweet babie will he horn,,  and that the actual intelligence of the lower
And he'll come hame that's far awa."
Vol. v. pp. 432, 433.  orders will be found, there also, very far to
exceed the ordinary estimates of their supeWe now reluctantly dismiss this subject.- riors. It is pleasing to know, that the sources
We scarcely hoped, when we began our critic- of rational enjoyment are so widely dissemial labours, that an opportunity would ever nated; and in a free country, it is comfortable
occur of speaking of Burns as we wished to to think, that so great a proportion of the
speak of him; and therefore, we feel grate- people is able to appreciate the advantages
ful to Mr. Cromek for giving us this opportu- of its condition, and fit to be relied on, in all
nity.  As we have no means of knowing, emergencies where steadiness and intelliwith precision, to what extent lis writings are gence may be required.
known and admired in the southern part of   Our other remark is of a more limited apthe kingdom, we have perhaps fallen into the plication; and is addressed chiefly to the
error of quoting passages that are familiar to followers and patrons of that new school of
most of our readers, and dealing out praise poetry, against which we have thought it our
which every one of them  had previously duty to neglect no opportunity of testifying.
awarded. We felt it impossible, however, to Those gentlemen are outrageous for simplicresist the temptation of transcribing a few of ity; and we beg leave to recommend to them
the passages which struck us the most, on the simplicity of Burns. He has copied the
turning over the volumes; and reckon with spoken language of passion and affection, with
confidence on the gratitude of those to whom  infinitely more fidelity than they have ever
they are new,-while we are not without done, on all occasions which properly admitted
hopes of being forgiven by those who have of such adaptation: But he has not rejected
been used to admire them.                 the helps of elevated language and habitual
We shall conclude with two general re- associations; nor debased his composition by
marks-the one national, the other critical.-  an affectation of babyish interjections, and
The first is, that it is impossible to read the all the puling expletives of an old nurseryproductions of Burns, along with his history, maid's vocabulary.  They may look long
without forming a higher idea of the intelli- enough among his nervous and manly lines,
gence, taste, and accomplishments of our before they find any "Good lacks!"-" Dear
peasantry, than most of those in the higher hearts! "-or "AS.t body may says," in them;
ranks are disposed to entertain.  Without or any stuff about dancing daffodils and sister
meaning to deny that he himself was endow- Emmelines. Let them think, with what ined with rare and extraordinary gifts of genius finite contempt the powerful mind of Burns
and fancy, it is evident, from the whole details would have perused the story of Alice Fell
of his history, as well as from the letters of and her duffle cloak,-of Andrew Jones and
his brother, and the testimony of Mr. Murdoch the half-crown, —or of Little Dan without
and others, to the character of his father, that breeches, and his thievish grandfather. Let
the whole family, and many of their asso- them contrast their own fantastical personages
ciates, who never emerged from the native of hysterical school-masters and sententious
obscurity of their condition, possessed talents, leechgatherers, with the authentic rustics of
and taste, and intelligence, which are little Burns's Cotters' Saturday Night, and his insuspected to lurk in those humble retreats.-  imitable songs; and reflect on the different
His epistles to brother poets, in the rank reception which those personifications have
of small farmers and shopkeepers in the ad- met with from the public. Though they will
joining villages,-the existence of a book- not be reclaimed from their puny affectations
society and debating-club among persons of by the example of their learned predecessors,
that description, and many other incidental they may, perhaps, submit to be admonished
traits in his sketches of his youthful compan- by a self-taught and illiterate poet, who drew
ions, —all contribute to show, that not only from Nature far more directly than they can
good sense, and enlightened inmorality, but do, and produced something so much liker
literature, and talents for speculation, are far the admired copies of the masters whom. they
more generally diffused in society than is have abjured.
commonly imagined; and that the delights




UAMPBELL'S GERTRUDE OF WYOMING.'47
(A1trit,     1S09.)
Gertrude of Wyoming, a Pennsylvanian Tale; and other Poems. By THOMAS CAMPBELL, authol
of " The Pleasures of Hope," ~c. 4to. pp. 136. London: Longman & Co.: 1809.
WE rejoice once more to see a polished and admiration of tittering parties, and of which
pathetic poem —in the old style of English even the busy must turn aside to catch a
pathos and poetry. This is of the pitch of transient glance: But " the haunted stream"
the Castle of Indolence, and the finer parts of steals through a still and a solitary landscape;
Spenser; with more feeling, in many places and its beauties are never revealed, but to
than the first, and more condensation and him who strays, in calm contemplation, by its
diligent finishing than the latter. If the true course, and follows its wanderings with untone of nature be not everywhere maintained, distracted and unimpatient admiration. There
it gives place, at least, to art only, and not to is a reason, too, for all this, which may be
affectation-and, least of all, to affectation of made more plain than by metaphors.
singularity or rudeness.                    The highest delight which poetry produces,
Beautiful as the greater part of this volume does not arise from the mere passive percepis, the public taste, we are afraid, has of late tion of the images or sentiments which it pre..
been too much accustomed to beauties of a sents to the mind; but from the excitement
more obtrusive and glaring kind, to be fully which is given to its own internal activity,
sensible of its merit. Without supposing that and the character which is impressed on the
this taste has been in any great degree vitiated, train of its spontaneous conceptions. Even
or even imposed upon, by the babyism or the the dullest reader generally sees more than
antiquarianism which have lately been versi- is directly presented to him by the poet; but
fled for its improvement, we may be allowed a lover of poetry always sees infinitely more;
to suspect, that it has been somewhat dazzled and is often indebted to his author for little
by the splendour, and bustle and variety of more than an impulse, or the key-note of a
the most popular of our recent poems; and melody which his fancy makes out for itselt.
that the more modest colouring of truth and Thus, the effect of poetry, depends more on
nature may, at this moment, seem somewhat the fruitfulness of the impressions to which it
cold and feeble. We have endeavoured, on gives rise, than on their own individual force
former occasions to do justice to the force or novelty; and the writers who possess the
and originality of some of those brilliant pro- greatest powers of fascination. are not those
ductions, as well as to the genius (fitted for who present us with the greatest number of
much higher things) of their authors-and lively images or lofty sentiments, but who
have little doubt of being soon called upon most successfully impart their own impulse
for a renewed tribute of applause. But we to the current of our thoughts and feelings,
cannot help saying, in the mean time, that and give the colour of their brighter concepthe work before us belongs to a class which tions to those which they excite in their
comes nearer to our conception of pure and readers. Now, upon a little consideration, it
perfect poetry.  Such productions do not, will probably appear, that the dazzling, and
indeed, strike so strong a blow as the vehe- the busy and marvellous scenes which conment effusions of our modern Trouveurs; stitute the whole charm of some poems, are
but they are calculated, we think, to please not so well calculated to produce this effect,
more deeply, and to call out more perma- as those more intelligible delineations which
nently, those trains of emotion, in which the are borrowed from ordinary life, and coloured
delight of poetry will probably be found to from  familiar affections. The object is, to
consist. They may not be so loudly nor so awaken in our minds a train of kindred emouniversally applauded; but their fame will tions, and to excite our imaginations to work
probably endure longer, and they will be out for themselves a tissue of pleasing or imoftener recalled to mingle with the reveries pressive conceptions. But it seems obvious
of solitary leisure, or the consolations of real that this is more likely to be accomplished
sorrow.                                   by surrounding us gradually with those obThere is a sort of poetry, no doubt, as there jects, and involving us in those situations
is a sort of flowers, which can bear the broad with which we have long been accustomed
sun and the ruffling winds of the world,- to associate the feelings of the poet,-than by
which thrive under the hands and eyes of in- startling us with some tale of wonder, or atdiscriminating multitudes, and please as much tempting to engage our affections for perin hot and crowded saloons, as in their own sonages, of whose character and condition
sheltered repositories; but the finer and the we are unable to form any distinct conceppurer sorts blossom only in the shade; and tion. These, indeed, are more sure than the
never give out their sweets but to those whd other to produce a momentary sensation, by
seek them amid the quiet and seclusion of the novelty and exaggeration with which they
the scenes which gave them birth. There are commonly attended; but their power is
are torrents and cascades which attract the spent at the first impulse: they do not strike




348                                   POETRY.
root and germinate in the mind, like the seeds less encouragement than it deserves. If the
of its native feelings; nor propagate through- volume before us were the work of an unout the imagination that long series of delight- known writer, indeed, we should feel no lit.
ful movements, which is only excited when tie apprehension about its success; but Mr,
the song of the poet is the echo of our familiar Campbell's name has power, we are perfeelings.                                  suaded, to insure a very partial and a very
It appears to us, therefore, that by far the general] attention to whatever it accompanies,
most powerful and enchanting poetry is that and. we would fain hope, influence enough to
which depends for its effect upon the just reclaim the public taste to a juster standard
representation of common feelings and com- of excellence. The success of his former
mon situations; and not on the strangeness work. indeed, goes far to remove our anxiety
of its incidents, or the novelty or exotic splen- for the fortune of this. It contained, perhaps,
dour of its scenes and characters. The diffi- more brilliant and bold passages than are to
culty is, no doubt, to give the requisite force, be found in the poem before us: But it was
elegance and dignity to these ordinary sub- inferior, we think, in softness and beauty;
jects. and to win a way for them to the heart, and. being necessarily of a more desultory
by that true and concise expression of natural and didactic character, had far less pathos
emotion, which is among the rarest gifts of and interest than this very simple tale. Those
inspiration.  To accomplish this, the poet who admired the Pleasures of Hope for the
must do much; and the reader something. passages about Brama and Kosciusko, may
The one must practise enchantment, and the perhaps be somewhat disappointed with the
other submit to it. The one must purify his gentler tone of Gertrude; but those who loved
conceptions from all that is low or artificial; that charming work for its pictures of infancy
and the other must lend himself gently to the and of maternal and connubial love, may read
impression, and refrain from disturbing it by on here with the assurance of a still higher
any movement of worldly vanity, derision or gratification.
hard heartedness. In an advanced state of   The story is of very little consequence in a
society, the expression of simple emotion is poem of this description; and it is here, as
so obstructed by ceremony, or so distorted by we have just hinted, extremely short and
affectation, that though the sentiment itself simple. Albert, an English gentleman of
be still familiar to the greater part of man- high character and accomplishment, had emikihd, the verbal representation of it is a task grated to Pennsylvania about the year 1740,
of the utmost difficulty. One set of writers, ac- and occupied himself, after his wife's death,
cordingly, finding the whole language of men in doing good to his neighbours, and in eduand women too sophisticated for this purpose, cating his infant and only child, Gertrude.
have been obliged to go to the nursery for He had fixed himself in the pleasant township
a more suitable phraseology; another has of Wyoming, on the banks of the Susquehanna;
adopted the style of courtly Arcadians; and a situation which at that time might have
a third, that of mere Bedlamites. So much passed for an earthly paradise, with very little
more difficult is it to express natural feelings, aid from poetical embellishment. The beauty
than to narrate battles, or describe prodigies. and fertility of the country,-the simple and
But even when the poet has done his part, unlaborious plenty which reigned among the
there are many causes which may obstruct scattered inhabitants, -but, above all, the
his immediate popularity. In the first place, singular purity and innocence of their manit requires a certain degree of sensibility to ners, and the tranquil and unenvious equality
perceive his merit. There are thousands of in which they passed their days, form  altopeople who can admire a florid description, gether a scene, on which the eye of philanor be amused with a wonderful story, to thropy is never wearied with gazing, and to
whom a pathetic poem is quite unintelligible. which, perhaps, no parallel can be found in
In the second place, it requires a certain de- the annals of the fallen world. The heart
gree of leisure and tranquillity in the reader. turns with delight from the feverish scenes
A picturesque stanza may be well enough of European history, to the sweet repose of
relished while the reader is getting his hair this true Atlantis; but sinks to reflect, that
combed; but a scene of tenderness or emo- though its reality may still be attested by
tion will not do, even for the corner of a surviving witnesses, no such spot is now left,
crowded drawing-room. Finally, it requires on the whole'face of the earth, as a refuge
a certain degree of courage to proclaim the from corruption and misery!
merits of such a writer. Those who feel the   The poem opens with a fine description of
most deeply, are most given to disguise their this enchanting retirement. One calm sumfeelings; and derision is never so agonising mer morn, a friendly Indian arrives in his caas when it pounces on the wanderings of noe, bringing with him a fair boy, who, with
misguided sensibility. Considering the habits his mother, were the sole survivors of an
of the age in which we live, therefore, and English garrison which had been stormed by
the fashion, which, though not immutable, a hostile tribe. The dying mother had com
has for some time run steadily in an opposite mended her boy to the care of her wild dedirection, we should not be much surprised liverers; and their chief, in obedience to her
if a poem, whose chief merit consisted in its solemn bequest, now delivers him into the
pathos, and in the softness and exquisite ten- hands of the most respected of the adjoining
derness of its representations of domestic life settlers. Albert recognises the unhappy orand romantic seclusion, should meet with phan as the son of a beloved friend; and




CAMPBELL'S GERTRUDE OF WYOMING.                                 349
rears young Henry Waldegrave as the happy though in some places a little obscure and
playmate of Gertrude, and sharer with her in overlaboured, are, to our taste, very soft and
the joys of their romantic solitude, and the beautiful.
lessons of their venerable instructor. When
he is scarcely entered upon manhood, Henry  "On Susquehanna's side, fair Wyoming!
is sent for by  his frien ds in England, and  Although the wild-flower on thy ruin'd wall
Is sent for by his friends in England, and  And roofless homes, a sad remembrance bring
roams over Europe in search of improvement Of what thy gentle people did befall,
for eight or nine years,-while the quiet hours Yet thou wert once the loveliest land of all
are sliding over'the father and daughter in  That see the Atlantic wave their morn restore.
the unbroken tranquillity of their Pennsylva- Sweet land! may I thy lost delights recall,
nian retreat.  At last, Henry, whose heart And paint thy Gertrude in her bowers of yore,
Whose beauty was the love of Pennsyjlvania'a
had found no resting place in all the world  Whose beauty was the love of Pennsyshore
besides, returns in all the mature graces of
manhood and marries his beloved Gertrude. " It was beneath thy skies that, but to prune
Then there is bliss beyond all that is blissful His autumn fruits, or skim the light canoe,
Perchance, along thy river calm, at noon,
on earth,-and more feelingly described than  The happy shepherd swain had nought to do,
mere genius can' ever hope to describe any From morn till evening's sweeter pastime grew;
thing.  But the war of emancipation begins; Their timbrel, in the dance of forests brown
and the dream  of love and enjoyment is When lovely maidens prankt in flowrets new;
broken by alarms and dismal forebodings. And aye, those sunny mountains half way down
While they are sittings one evening enjoying  Would echo flagelet from some romantic town.
those tranquil delights, now more endeared  "Then, where of Indian hills the daylight takes
by the fears which gather around them, an  His leave, how might you the flamingo see
aged Indian rushes into their habitation, and, Disporting like a meteor on the lakesafter disclosing himself for Henry's ancient And playful squirrel on his nut-grown tree:
And ev'ry sound of life was full of glee,
guide and preserver, informs them, that a From merry mock-bird's song, or hum of men;
hostile tribe which had  exterminated his  While eark'ning, fearing nought their revelry,
whole family, is on its march towards their The wild deer arch'd his neck from glades-and,'
devoted dwellings.  With considerable diffi-         then
culty they effect their escape to a fort at some  Unhunted, sought his woods and wilderness again.
distance in the woods; and at sunrise. Ger-, And scarce had Wyoming of war or crime
trude, and her father and husband, look from  Heard but in transatlantic story rung," &c.
its battlements over the scene of desolation                                    pp. 5-7.
which the murderous Indians had already    The account of the German Spanish, Scotspread over the pleasant groves and gardens                                     the German Scot
of Wyoming. While they are standing wrapt tish, and English settlers, and of the patri.
in this sad contemplation. an Indian marks- archal harmony in which they were all united,
man fires a mortal shot from his ambush at is likewise given with great spirit and brevity,
Albert; and as Gertrude clasps him in agony as well as the portrait of the venerable Albert,
to her heart, another discharge lays her bleed- their own elected judge and adviser.  A sud
ing by his side! She then takes farewell of
her husband, in a speech more sweetly pa- " Young, innocent! on whose sweet forehead mild
thetic than any thing ever written in rhyme. The parted ringlet shone in simplest guise,
Henry prostrates himself on her grave in An inmate in the home of Albert smil'd,
convulsed and speechless agony; and his Or blest his noonday-walk-she was his only child!
Indian deliverer, throwing his mantle over " The rose of England bloom'd on Gertrude's
him, watches by him  a while in gloomy si-            cheek —
lence; and at last addresses him in a sort of  What though these shades had seen her birth," &c.
wild and energetic descant, exciting him, by                                       p. 11.
his example, to be revenged, and to die! The    After mentioning that she was left the only
poem closes with this vehement and impas- child of her mother, the author goes on in
sioned exhortation.                           these sweet verses.
Before proceeding to lay any part of the
poem itself before our readers, we should try  " A lov'd bequest! and I may half impart,
to give them some idea of that delighful har- To them that feel the strong paternal tie,
mony of colouring and of expression, which  IHow like a new existence to his heart
serves to unite every part of it for the pro- Uprose that living flower beneath his eye!
serves to unite every part of it for the  deo- Dear as she was, from cherub infancy,
duction of one effect; and to make the de- From hours when she would round his garden play.
scription, narrative, and reflections, conspire To time when, as the rip'ning years went by,
to breathe over the whole a certain air of  Her lovely mind could culture well repay,
pure and tender enchantment, which is not And more engaging grew from pleasing day to day
once dispelled, through the whole length of   I may not paint those thousand infant charms;
the poem, by the intrusion of any discordant (Unconscious fascination, undesign'd!)
impression.  All that we can now do, how- The orison repeated in his arms,
ever, is to tell them that this was its effect For God to bless her sire and all mankind!
upon our feelings; and to give them  their The book, the bosom on his knee reclin'd,
chance of partaking in it, by a pretty copious Or how sweet fairy-lore he heard her con,
selection of extracts.                        (The playmate. ere the teacher of her mind);.de scriptive stanzas *   the be*nning  All uncompanion'd else her years had gone
The  Tescriptive stanzas in the beginning, Till now in Gertrude's eyes their ninth blue sum
which set out with an invocation to lWyoming,         mer shone.
2E




350                                     POETRY.
" And summer was the tide, and sweet the hour,  " A valley from the river shore withdrawn
When sire and daughter saw, with fleet descent,   Was Albert's home two quiet woods between,
An Indian from his bark approach their bow'r," &c. Whose lofty verdure overlook'd his lawn;
pp. 12, 13.   And waters to their resting-place serene,
Came, fresh'ning and reflecting all the scene:
This is the guide and preserver of young  (A mirror in the depth of flowery shelves;)
Henry Waldegrave; who is somewhat fantas- So sweet a spot of earth, you might (I ween)
tically described as appearing               Have guess'd some congregation of the elves
To sport by summer moons, had shap'd it for
"Led by his dusky guide, like Morning brought        themselves."-p. 27.
by Night."
The effect of this seclusion on Gertrude is
The Indian tells his story with great anima- beautifully represented.
tion-the storming and blowing up of the
tion-lish fstormiand the tardy arrivalg and blowin   of his "It seem'd as if those scenes sweet influence had
English fort-and the tardy arrivOn Gertrude's soul, and kindness like their own
friendly and avenging warriors.  They found  Inspir'd those eyes affectionate and glad,
all the soldiers slaughtered.                That seem'd to love whate'er they look'd upon!
Whether with Hebe's mirth her features shone,
"' And from the tree we with her child unbound
A lonely mother of the Christian and-  Or if a shade more pleasing them o'ercast,
He loely mothe aptain of the Chritiansh band-  (As if for heav'nly musing meant alone;)
Her lord-the captain of the British band-..
Amidst the slaughter of his soldiers layY   so becomingly the expression past,
Scarce knew the widowslaghter ourf his soldiering hand:  That each succeeding look was lovelier than the last.
Scarce knew the widow our delivering hand:
Upon her child she sobb'd, and swoon'd away;    "Nor guess I, was that Pennsylvanian home,
Or shriek'd unto the God to whom the Christians With all its picturesque and balmy grace,
pray.-                                And fields that were a luxury to roam,
"' Our virgins fed her with their kindly bowls  Lost on the soul that look'd from such a face!
Of fever balm, and sweet sagamite*;           Enthusiast of the woods! when years apace
But she was journeying to the land of souls,  Had bound thy lovely waist with woman's zone,
And lifted up But s he was journer dying to the  land of prayouls,  The sunrise path, at morn, I see thee trace
And lifted up her dying head to pray          To hills with high magnolia overgrown;
That we should bid an antient friend convey   To hills with high magnolia overgrown;
That we should bid an antient friend convey   And joy to breathe the groves, romantic and
Her orphan to his home of England's shore;           alone.'-pp. 29, 30.
And take, she said, this token far away
To one that will remember us of yore,           The morning scenery, too is touched with
When he beholds the ring that Waldegrave's Julia a delicate and masterly hand.
wore.'."              pp. 16, 17.
" While yet the wild deer trod in spangling dew,
Albert recognises the child of his murdered  While boatman caroll'd to the fresh-blown air,
friend, with great emotion; which the Indian  And woods a horizontal shadow threw,
witnesses with characteristic and picturesque  And early fox appear'd in momentary view."
composure.                                                                     p. 32.
"; Far differently the Mute Oneyda took       The reader is left rather too much in the
His calumet of peace, and cup of joy;         dark as to Henry's departure for Europe;As monumental bronze unchang'd his look:      no  indeed are we apprised of his absence
A soul that pity touch'd, but never shook:    till we come to the scene of his unexpected
Train'd, from his tree-rock'd cradle to his bier,    return. Gertrude was used to spend the hot
The fierce extremes of good and ill to brook  part of the day in reading in a lonely and
Lmpassive-fearing but the shame of fear —
A stoic of the woods-a man without a tear.-"    rocky recess inthosesafewoods;whichis
p. 20.    described with Mr. Campbell's usual felicity.
This warrior, however, is not without high                     " nRocks sublime
feelings and tender affections.               To human art a sportive semblance wore;
And yellow lichens colour'd all the clime,
" He scorn'd his own, who felt another's woe:    Like moonlight battlements, and towers decayed
And ere the wolf-skin on his back he flung,           by time.
Or laced his mocasins, in act to go,          " But high, in amphitheatre above,
A song of parting to the boy he sung,         His arms the everlasting aloes threw:
Who slept on Albert's couch, nor heard his friend- Breath'd but an air of heav'n, and all the grove
ly tongue.                            As if instinct with living spirit grew,' Sleep, wearied one! and in the dreaming land   Rolling its verdant gulfs of every hue;
Should'st thou the spirit of thy mother greet,  And now suspended was the pleasing din,
Oh! say, to-morrow, that the white man's hand      rom a murmur faint it swell'd anew,
Like the first note of organ heard within
Hath pluck'd the thorns of sorrow from thy feet;
While I in lonely wilderness shall meet       Cathedral aisles-ere yet its symphony begin."
I'hy little foot-prints-or by traces know                                        p. 33.
[he fountain, where at noon I thought it sweet  In this retreat, which is represented as so
r'o feed thee with the quarry of my bow,     solitary, that except her own,
knd pour'd the lotus-horn, or slew the mountain roe.
Adieu? sweet scion of the rising sun!' " &c.            scarce an ear had heard
pp. 21, 22.   The stock-dove plaining through its gloom profound,
Or winglet of the fairy humming bird,
The Second part opens with a fine descrip- Like atoms of the rainbow fluttering round."tion of Albert's sequestered dwelling.  It re-p. 34.
minds us of that enchanted landscape in which -a stranger of lofty port and gentle manners
Thomson has embosomed his Castle of Indo- surprises her, one morning, and is conducted
lence. We can make room only for the first to her father.  They enter into conversation
stanza                                        on the subject of his travels.




CAMPBELL'S GERTRUDE OF WYOMING.                                   351
"And much they 1lov'd his fervid strain —  And must I change my song? and must I show,
While he each fair variety retrac'd            Sweet Wyoming! the day, when thou wert doom'd,
Of climes, and manners, o'er the eastern main.    Guiltless, to mourn thy loveliest bow'rs laid low!
Now happy Switzer's hills-romantic Spain-      When, where of yesterday a garden bloom'd.
Gay lilied fields of France-or, more refin'd,  Death overspread his pall, and black'ning ashes
The soft Ausonia's monumental reign;                   gloom'd?Nor less each rural image he design'd,         "Sad was the year, by proud Oppression driv'n,
Than all the city's pomp and home of human kind. When Transatlantic Liberty arose;
When Transatlantic Liberty arose;
" Anon some wilder portraiture he draws!      Not in the sunshine, and the smile of heav'n,
Of nature's savage glories he would speak-     But wrapt in whirlwinds, and begirt with woes:
The loneliness of earth that overawes!-       Amidst the strife of fratricidal foes,
Where, resting by some tomb of old cacique     Her birth star was the light of burning plains;
The lama-driver on Peruvia's peak,             Her baptism is the weight of blood that flows
Nor voice nor living motion marks around;      From kindred hearts-the blood of British veins!But storks that to the boundless forest shriek;  And famine tracks her steps, and pestilential pains!"
Or wild-cane arch high flung o'er gulf profound,                                  pp. 50, 51.
That fluctuates when the storms of El Dorado
sound."-pp. 36, 37.                       Gertrude's alarm and dejection at the prospect of hostilities are well described:
Albert, at last, bethinks him of inquiring  pet of hostilities are well described
after his stray ward young Henry; and enter- " O, meet not thou," she cries, "thy kindred foe!
tains his guest with a short summary of his But peaceful let us seek fair England's strand," &c.
history.                                       -as well as the arguments and generousr
" His face the wand'rer hid;-but could not hide   sentiments by which her husband labours to
A tear, a smile, upon his cheek that dwell!-  reconcile her to a necessary evil.  The noc-'And speak, mysterious stranger!' (Gertrude cried) turnal irruption of the old Indian is given with'It is!-it is!-I knew-I knew'him well!       great spirit:-Age and misery had so changed'Tis Waldegrave's -self, of Waldegrave come to his appearance, that he was not at first recogA burst of joy the father's lips declare;    [tell!' nised by any o
But Gertrude speechless on his bosom fell:sed by any o
At once hts open arms embrac'd the pair;       "'And hast thou then forgot'-he cried forlorn,
Was never group more blest, in this wide world of And ey'd the group with half indignant air),
care!"-p 39' Oh! hast thou, Christian chief, forgot the morn
The first overflowing of their joy and art- When I with thee the cup of peace did share?
less love is represented with all the fine Then stately was this head, and dark this hair,
olours of truth and poetry; but we cannot That now is white as Appalachia's snow!
colours of truth and poetry; but we cannot But, if the weight of fifteen years' despair,
now make room for it. The Second Part ends And age hath bow'd me, and the tort'ring foe,
with this stanza: —                            Bring me my Boy-and  he will his deliverer
" Then would that home admit them-happier far          know 
Than grandeur's most magnificent saloon-       "It was not long, with eyes and heart of flame,
While, here and there, a solitary star         Ere Henry to his lov'd Oneyda flew:     [came,
Flush'd in the dark'ning firmament of June;'Bless thee, my guide!'-but, backward, as he
And silence brought the soul-felt hour full soon,   The chief his old bewilder'd head withdrew,
Ineffable-which-I may not pourtray!            And grasp'd his arm, and look'd and look'd him
For never did the Hymenean moon                        through.
A paradise of hearts more sacred sway,'Twas strange-nor could the group a smile control,
In all that slept beneath her soft voluptuous ray."- The long, the doubtful scrutiny to view:p. 43.   At last delight o'er all his features stole,  [soul.The Last Part sets out with a soft but  It is-my own!' he cried, and clasp'd him to his
spirited sketch of their short-lived felicity.    "' Yes! thou recall'st my pride of years; for then
The bowstring of my spirit was not slack,  [men,
" Three little moons, how short! amidst the grove, When, spite of woods, and floods, and ambush'd
And pastoral savannas they consume!           I bore thee like the quiver on my hack,
While she, beside her buskin'd youth to rove,  Fleet as the whirlwind hurries on the rack
Delights, In fancifully wild costume,          Nor foeman then, nor cougar's crouch I fear'd,
Her lovely brow to shade with Indian plume;    For I was strong as mountain cataract;
And forth in hunter-seeming vest they fare;    And dost thou not remember how we cheer'd
But not to chase the deer in forest gloom!    Upon the last hill-top, when white men's huts ap-'Tis but the breath of heav' n-the blessed air-        pear'd?' "-pp. 54-56.
And interchange of hearts, unknown, unseen to
share.                                    After warning them of the approach of their
" What though the sportive dog oft round them note, terrible foe, the conflagration is seen, and the
Or fawn, or wild bird bursting on the wing;    whoops and scattering shot of the enemy heard
Yet who, in love's own presence, would devote    at a distance.  The motley militia of the
To death those gentle throats that wake the spring? neigbourhood flock to the defence of Albert
Or writhing from the brook its victim bring?   the effect of their shouts and music on the old
No!-nor let fear one little warbler rouse;    Indian is fine and striking.
But, fed by Gertrude's hand, still let them sing,   Indian is fine and striking.
Acquaintance of her path, amidst the boughs,    "Rous'd by their warlike pomp, and mirth, and
That shade ev'n now her love, and witness'd first                       e,        cheer,
her vows."-pp. 48, 49        Old Outalissi woke his battle song,     [cheer,,hervows." pp. 48, 49.  And beating with his war-club cadence strong,
The transition to the melancholy part of the  Tells how his deep-stung indignation smarts," &c.
story is introduced with great tenderness and                                         p. 61.
dignity.                                       Nor is the contrast of this savage enthusiasm'But mortal pleasure, what art thou in truth?  with the venerable composure of Albert less
The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below!   beautifully represented.




352                                      POETRY.
"Calm, opposite the Christian Father rose,     In future times —no gentle little one,
Pale on his venerable brow its rays            To clasp thy neck, and look, resembling me!
Of martyr light the conflagration throws;      Yet seems it, ev'n while life's last pulses run,
One hand upon his lovely child he lays,        A sweetness in the cup of death to be,
And one th' uncover'd crowd to silence sways;    Lord of my bosom's love! to die beholding thee!'
While, though the battle flash is faster driv'nUnaw'd, with eye unstartled by the blaze,      " Hush'd were his Gertrude's lips! but still their
He for his bleeding country prays to Heaven-           bland
Prays that the men of blood themselves may be And beautiful expression seem'd to melt
forgiven."'-p. 62.                     With love that could not die! and still his hand
She presses to the heart no more that felt.
They then speed their night march to the  Ah heart! where once each fond affection dwelt,
distant fort, whose wedged ravelins and re- And features yet that spoke a soul more fair "
doubts                                                                             pp. 64 —68.
"Wove like a diadem, its tracery round         The funeral is hurried over with pathetic
The lofty summit of that mountain green"-  brevity; and the desolate and all-enduring
Indian brought in again with peculiar beauty.
and look back from its lofty height on the
desolated scenes around them.  We will not " Touch'd by the music, and the melting scene,
separa'te, nor apologize for the length of the  Was scarce one tearless eye amidst the crowd;fine passage that follows; which alone, we  Stern warriors, resting on their swords, were seen
tfinke passage jthat followse   which  alone wep   To veil their eyes, as pass'd each much-lov'd
think, might Justify all we have said in praise         shroudof the poem.                                   While woman's softer soul in woe dissolv'd aloud.
" A scene of death! where fires beneath the sun,  " Then mournfully the parting bugle bid
And -blended arms, and white pavilions glow;   Its farewell o'er the grave of worth and truth.
And for the business of destruction dqne,      Prone to the dust, afflicted Waldegrave hid
Its requiem the war-horn seem'd to blow.       His face on earth? —Hini watch'd in gloomy ruth,
There, sad spectatress of her country's woe!  His woodland guide; but words had none to sooth
The lovely Gertrude, safe from present harm,   The grief that knew not consolation's name!
Had laid her cheek, and clasp'd her hands of snow  Casting his Indian mantle o'er the youth,
On Waldegrave's shoulder, half within his arm  He watch'd beneath its folds, each burst that came
Enclos'd, that felt her heart and hush'd its wild  Convulsive,ague-like,across hisshuddering frame!"
alarm!                                                                       p. 69.
"' But short that contemplation! sad and short   After some time spent in this mute and
The pause to bid each much-lov'd scene adieu!    awful pause, this stern and heart-struck com.
Beneath the very shadow of the fort,    [flew, forter breaks out into the following touching
Where friendly swords were drawn, and banners and energetic address with whic
Ah! who could deem that foot of Indian crewh the poem
Was near? — Yet there, with lust of murd'rous closesi, with great spirit and abruptness:deeds,                                 ""' And I could weep;'-th' Oneyda chief
Gleam'd like a basilisk, from woods in view,   "And I could weepth' Oneyda chief
The ambush'd foeman's eye-his volley speeds!     His descant wildly thus began:
And Albert —Albert — falls! the dear old father     Bt that I may not stain with grief
bleeds!                                 The death-song of my father's son!
Or bow his head in woe;
"And tranc'd in giddy horror Gertrude swoon'd!    For by my wrongs, and by my wrath!
Yet, while she clasps him lifeless to her zone,  To-morrow Areouski's breath
Say, burst they, borrow'd from her father's wound,   (That fires yon heaven with stcrms of death)
Those drops?-O  God! the life-blood is her own!   Shall light us to the foe:
And falt'ring, on her Waldegrave's bosom thrown-    And we shall share, my Christian boy!'Weep not, O Love!'-she cries,'to see me   The foeman's blood, the avenger's joy!bleed —
Thee, Gertrude's sad survivor, thee alone-e"d' But thee, my flow'r! whose breath was giv'n
Heaven's peace commiserate! for scarce I heed   By milder genii o'er the deep,
These wounds!-Yet thee to leave is death, is   The spirits of the white man's heav'n
death indeed.                            Forbid not thee to weep!Nor will the Christian host,
"' Clasp me a little longer, on the brink        Nor will thy father's spirit grieve
Of fate! while I can feel thy dear caress;      To see thee, on the battle's eve,
And, when this heart hath ceas'd to beat-oh! think,   Lamenting take a mournful leave
And let it mitigate thy woe's excess,             Of her who lov'd thee most:
That thou hast been to me all tenderness,        She was the rainbow to thy sight!
And friend to more than human friendship just.    Thy sun-thy heav'n-of lost delight!Oh! by that retrospect of happiness,           "'Tomorrow let us do or die!
And by the hopes of an immortal trust,   [dust    But when the bolt of death is hurl'd,
God shall assuage thy pangs —when I am laid in   But when the bolt of death is hurl'd,
Ah! whither then with thee to fly,
"' Go, Henry, go not back, when I depart!       Shall Outalissa roam the world?
The scene thy bursting tears too deep will move,  Seek we thy once-lov'd home?Where my dear father took thee to his heart,     The hand is gone that cropt its flowers'
And Gertrude thought it ecstasy to rove           Unheard their clock repeats its hours.With thee, as with an angel, through the grove    Cold is the hearth within their bow'rs!Of peace-imagining her lot was cast              And should we thither roam,
In heav'n! for ours was not like earthly love!  Its echoes, and its empty tread,
And must this parting be our very last?   [past.-    Would sound like voices from the dead!
No! I shall love thee still, when death itself is
"' But hark, the tromp!-to-morrow thou
"' Half could I bear, methinks, to leave this earth-   In glory's fires shalt dry thy tears:'
And thee, more lov'd than aught beneath the sun!   Ev'n from the land of shadows now
Could I have liv'd to smile but on the birth     My father's awful ghost appears,
Of one dear pledge!-But shall there then be none,   Amidst the clouds that round us roll!




CAMPBELL'S GERTRUDE OF WYOMING.                               3S8
He bids my soul for battle thirst —       spirit and pattern of what is before him, we
He bids me dry the last-the first-        hope he will yet be induced to make considerThe only tears that ever burst-           able additions to a work, which will please
From Outalissi's soul!Because I may not stain with grief        those most who are most worthy to be pleased;
The death-song of an Indian chief!' "-pp. 70-73. and always seem most beautiful to those who
give it the greatest share of their attention.
It is needless, after these extracts, to en-   Of the smaller pieces which fill up the vol-:arge upon the beauties of this poem. They ume, we have scarce left ourselves room to
consist chiefly in the feeling and tenderness say any thing. The greater part of them have
of the whole delineation, and the taste and been printed before; and there are probably
delicacy with which all the subordinate parts few readers of English poetry who are not alare made to contribute to the general effect. ready familiar with the Lochiel and the Ho..
Before dismissing it, however, we must say a hinlinden-the one by far the most spirited
little of its faults, which are sufficiently ob- and poetical denunciation of coming woe,
vious and undeniable. In the first place, the since the days of Cassandra; the other the
narrative is extremely obscure and imperfect; only representation of a modern battle, which
and has greater blanks in it than could be possesses either interest or sublimity. The
tolerated even in lyric poetry. We hear ab- song to " the Mariners of England," is also
solutely nothing of Henry, from the day the very generally known. It is a splendid inIndian first brings him from the back country, stance of the most magnificent diction adapted
till he returns from Europe fifteen years there- to a familiar and even trivial metre. Nothing
after. It is likewise a great oversight in Mr. can be finer than the first and the last stanzas.
Campbell to separate his lovers, when only
twelve years of age —a period at which it is " Ye mariners of England!
utterly inconceivable that any permanent at-   That guard our native seas;
tachment could have been formed.  The   Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle, and the breeze!
greatest fault, however, of the work, is the   Your glorious standard launch again
occasional constraint and obscurity of the dic-   To match another foe!
tion, proceeding apparently from too laborious   And sweep through the deep," &c.-p. 101.
an effort at emphasis or condensation. The  "The meteor flag of England
metal seems in several places to have been   Shall yet terrific burn;
so much overworked, as to have lost not only   Till danger's troubled night depart,
its ductility, but its lustre; and, while there   And the star of peace return.
are passages which can scarcely be at all un-   Then, then, ye ocean warriors 
derstood after the most careful consideration,   Our son and feast shall flow
there are others which have an air so elaborate   When the storm has ceas'd to blow;
and artificial, as to destroy all appearance of   When the fiery fight is heard no more,
nature in the sentiment. Our readers may   And the storm has ceas'd to blow."-pp. 103,104.
have remarkpd something of this sort, in the    ih                 a
first extracts with which we have presented    theBattleoftheBaltec, thoughwethink
them.; but there are specimens still more exit has been printed before, is much less known..
ceptionable. In order to inform us that Albert Though written in a strange, and we think an
had lost his wife, Mr. Campbell is pleased to unfortunate metre, it has great force and,
say, that                   grandeur, both of conception and expression~sy~that               ~~ that sort of force and grandeur which results.
---— "Fate had reft his mutual heart',"    from the simple and concise expression of
and in order to tell us something else-though great events and natural emotions, altogether
what, we are utterly unable to conjecture- unassisted by any splendour or amplification
he concludes a stanza on the delights of mu- of expression. The characteristic merit intual love, with these three lines:-         deed, both of this piece and of Hohinlinden,.
is, that, by the forcible delineation of one or
"'Roll on, ye days of raptur'd influence, shine?  two great circumstances, they give a clear,
Nor, blind with ecstasy's celestial fire, [pire.' " and most energetic representation of events,
Shall love behold.the spark of earth-born time ex-as complicated as they are impressive-and
The whole twenty-second stanza of the first thus impress the mind of the reader with ad1
part is extremely incorrect; and the three the terror and sublimity of the subject, while
concluding lines are almost unintelligible.    they rescue him from the fatigue and perplex-.
ity of its details. Nothing in our judgment
"' But where was I when Waldegrave was no can be more impressive than the following.
And thou didst pale thy gentle head extend,  very short and simple description of the British;
In woes, that ev'n the tribe of deserts was thy fleet bearing up to close action:
friend!"';        " As they drifted on their path,
If Mr. Campbell had duly considered the        There was silence deep as death!
necessity of perspicuity-especially  And the boldest held his breath
prmary necessity of perspicuity-especially       For a time.-" —p. 109.
m compositions whicnim only at pleasing —
we are persuaded thal'he would never havei The description of the battle itself (though it
left these and some other passages in so very begins with a tremendous line) is in the samequestionable a state. There is still a good spirit of homely sublimity; and worth a thou.
deal for him to do indeed, in a new edition: sand stanzas of thunder, shrieks, shouts, tria
and working —as hie must work-in the true dents, and heroes.
23




O54                                     POETRY.
"' Hearts of oak,' our captains cried! when When a voice from the kinsmen spoke louder in
From its adamantine lips     [each gun          scorn,
Spread a death-shade round the ships!'Twas the youth who had lov'd the fair Ellen of
Like the hurricane eclipse                      Lorn:
Of the sun."Again! again   I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief,
And the havoc did not slack,            I dreamt that her lord was a barbarous chief;
Till a feebler cAnd t he havoc did not slack, er the Dane  On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem;
Till a feebler cheerig   the Dane       Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!'
To our cheering sent us back;Their shots along the deep slowly boom:-   In dust low the traitor has knelt to the ground.
Then cease t!-and  all is wail,,  And the desert reveal'd where his lady was found;
As they strike the shatter'd sail;     From a rock of the ocean that beauty is borne,
Or, in conflagration pale,              Now joy to the house of fair Ellen of Lorn!"
Light the gloom. —"                                                    pp. 105-107.
There are two little ballad pieces, published
for the first time, in this collection, which    We close this volume on the whole with
*have both very considerable merit, and afford feelings of regret for its shortness, and of ada favourable specimen of Mr. Campbell's miration for the genius of its author.  There
powers in this new  line of exertion. The are but two noble sorts of poetry-the pathetic
longest is the most beautiful; but we give our and the sublime; and we think he has given
readers the shortest, because we can give it very extraordinary proofs of his talents for
entire.                                       both. There is something, too, we will venture to add, in the style of many of his con" O heard ye yon pibrach sound sad in the gale,   ceptions which irresistibly impresses us with
Where a band cometh slowly with weeping and wail? the conviction that he can  o  much geate'Tis the chief of Glenara laments for his dear;
And her sire, and the people, are called to her bier. things than he has hitherto accomplished;
and leads us to regard him, even yet, as a
" Glenara came first with the mourners and shroud; poet of still greater promise than performance.
Her kinsmen they follow'd, but mourn'd not aloud: It seems to us as  if the  natural forcand
Their plaids all their bosoms were folded around:   It seems to us, as if the natural force and
They march'd all in silence-they look'd on the boldness of his ideas were habitually checked
ground.                               by a certain fastidious timidity, and an anxi" In silence they reach'd over mountain and moor, ety about the minor graces of correct and
To a heath, where the oak-tree grew lonely and chastened composition. Certain it is, at least,
hoar;                                 that his greatest and most lofty flights have
Now here let us place the grey stone of her cairn: been made in those smaller pieces, about'Why speak ye no word' —said Glenara the stern. which, it is natural to think, he must have
"'And tell me, I charge you! ye clanof my spouse, felt least solicitude; and that he has sucWhy fold you your mantles, why cloud ye your ceeded most splendidly where he must have
brows?'                              been most free from the fear of failure. We
So spake the rude chieftain:-no answer is made,    any praises or exhortations of ours had
But each mantle unfolding, a dagger display'd.  wish
the power to give him confidence in his own
"' I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her shroud,'   great talents; and hope earnestly, that he will'Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all wrathful and great          hope earnestly, that he wil
loud;                                 now meet with such encouragement, as may'And empty that shroud, and that coffin did seem; set him above all restraints that proceed from
Glenara! Glenara! now read me my dream!'      apprehension; and induce him  to give free
"' O:! ale grew the cheek of that chieftain, Iween, scope to that genius, of which we are perWhen the shroud was unclos'd, and no lady was suaded that the world has hitherto seen rather
seen;                                 the grace than the richness.
(Janua r, 1825.)
Theodric, a Domestic Tale: with other Poems.  By THOMAS CAMPBELL.  12mo. pp. 150.
London: 1824.
IF Mr. Campbell's poetry was of a kind those relies to which it excludes the possi.
that could be forgotten, his long fits of silence bility of any future addition.  At all events,
would put him fairly in the way of that mis- I he has better proof of the permanent interest
fortune.  But, in truth, he is safe enough;-  the public take in his productions, than those
and has even acquired, by virtue of his ex- ever can have who are more diligent in their
emplary laziness, an assurance and pledge of multiplication, and keep themselves in the
immortality which he could scarcely have recollection of their great patron by more freobtained without it.  A writer who is still quent intimations of their existence.  The
fresh in the mind and favour of the public, experiment, too, thoug  not without its haztfter twenty years' intermission, may reason- ards, is advantageous! another respect;-for,,bly expect to be remembered when death  the re-appearance of such an author, after.nall have finally sealed up the fountains of those long periods of occultation, is naturally
his inspiration; imposed silence on the cavils hailed  as a novelty-and he receives the
of envious rivals, and enhanced the value of double welcome, of a celebrated stranger, and




CAMPBELL'S THEODRIC.                              351
a remembered friend. There is, accordingly, idle and occupied world, it is of all others
no living poet, we believe, whose advertise- perhaps the kind of poetry best fitted to win
ment excites greater expectation than Mr. on our softer hours, and to sink deep into va
Campbe]l's:-and a new poem from him is cant bosoms-unlocking all the sources of
waited for with even more eagerness (as it is fond recollection, and leading us gently on
certainly for a much longer time) than a new  through the mazes of deep and engrossing
novel from the author of Waverley. Like all meditation —and thus ministering to a deeper
other human felicities, however, this high ex- enchantment and more lasting delight than
pestation and prepared homage has its draw- can ever be inspired by the more importunate
backs and its dangers. A popular author, as strains of more ambitious authors.
we have been led to remark on former occa-   There are no doubt peculiar and perhaps
sions, has no rival so formidable as his former insuperable difficulties in the management of
self-and no comparison to sustain half so themes so delicate, and requiring so fine and
dangerous as that which is always made be- so restrained a hand-nor are we prepared to
tween the average merit of his new work, and say that Mr. Campbell has on this occasion
the remembered beauties-for little else is entirely escaped them. There are passages
ever remembered-of his old ones.         that are somewhat fade:-there are expresHow this comparison will result in the sions that are trivial:-But the prevailing
present instance, we do not presume to pre- character is sweetness and beauty; and it
dict with confidence-but we doubt whether prevails over all that is opposed to it. The
it will be, at least in the beginning; altogether story, though abundantly simple, as our readin favour of the volume before us. The ers will immediately see. has two distinct
poems of this author, indeed, are generally compartments —one relating to the Swiss
more admired the more they are studied, and maiden, the other to the English wife. The
rise in our estimation in proportion as they former, with all its accompaniments, we think
become familiar. Their novelty, therefore, is nearly perfect. It is full of tenderness, purity,
always ritther an obstruction than a help to and pity; and finished with the most exquisite
their popularity;-and it may well be ques- elegance, in few and simple touches. The
tioned, whether there be any thing in the other, which is the least considerable, has
novelties now before us that can rival in our more decided blemishes. The diction is in
affections the long-remembered beauties of many places too familiar, and the incidents
the Pleasures of Hope-of Gertrude-of too common —and the cause of distress has
O'Connor's Child-the Song of Linden-The the double misfortune of being unpoetical in
Mariners of England-and the many other its nature, and improbable in its result. But
enchanting melodies that are ever present to the shortest way is to give our readers a slight
the minds of all lovers of poetry.       account of the poem, with such specimens as
The leading piece in the present volume is may enable them to judge fairly of it for
an attempt at a very difficult kind of poetry; themselves.
and one in which the most complete success   It opens, poetically, with the description
can hardly ever be so splendid and striking as of a fine scene in Switzerland, and of a rustic
to make amends for the difficulty. It is en- church-yard; where the friend of the author
titled "a Domestic Story"-and it is so;- points out to him  the flowery grave of a
turning upon few incidents-embracing few  maiden, who, though gentle and fair, had died
characters-dealing in no marvels and no of unrequited love:-and so they proceed, be
terrors-displaying no stormy passions. With- tween them, for the matter is left poetically
out complication of plot, in. short, or hurry of obscure, to her history. Her fancy had been
action-with no atrocities to shudder at, or early captivated by the tales of heroic daring
feats of noble daring to stir the spirits of the and chivalric pride, with which her country's
ambitious-it passes quietly on, through the annals abounded-and she disdained to give
shaded paths of private life, conversing with her love to any one who was not graced with
gentle natures and patient sufferings-and un- the virtues and glories of those heroic times
folding, with serene pity and sober triumph, This exalted mood was unluckily fostered by
the pangs which are fated at times to wring her brother's youthful ardour in praise of the
the breast of innocence and generosity, and commander under whom  he was serving
the courage and comfort which generosity and abroad-by whom he was kindly tended when
innocence can never fail to bestow. The wounded, and whose picture he brought back
taste and the feeling which led to the selec- with him on his return to his paternal home,
tion of such topics, could not but impress their to renew, and seemingly to realize, the daycharacter on the style in which they are dreams of his romantic sister. This picture,
treated. It is distinguished accordingly by a and the stories her brother told of the noble
fine and tender finish, both of thought and of Theodric, completed the poor girl's fascinadiction-by a chastened elegance of words tion. Her heart was kindled by her fancy;
and images-a mild dignity and tempered and her love was already fixed on a being she
pathos in the sentiments, and a general tone had never seen! In the mean time, Theodric,
of simplicity and directness in the conduct of who had promised a visit to his voung protege
the story, which, joined to its great brevity, passes over to England, and is betrothed to a
tends at first perhaps to disguise both the lady of that country of infinite worth and
richness and the force of the genius required amiableness. He then repairs to Switzerland,
for its production. But though not calhulated where, after a little time, he discovers the
to strike at once on the dull palled eat of an love of Julia, which he gently, but firmly re



366                                      POETRY.
bukes- returns to England, and is married.  O'er clust'ring trees and terrace-mantling vines.
His wife has uncomfortable relations-quarrel-  As gay as ever, the laburnum's pride  [glideome, selfish, and envious; and her peace is Waves o'er each walk where she was wont to
sometimes wounded by their' disse nsions and  And still the garden whence she grac'd her brow,
ometimes  Wounded by  theirdissensions an do  As lovely blooms, though trode by strangers now.
unkindness.  War breaks out anew, too, in How oft from yonder window o'er the lake,
Theodrics country; and as he is meditating  Her song, of wild Helvetian swell and shake,
a journey to that quarter, he is surprised by a Has made the rudest fisher bend his ear,
visit from Julia's brother, who informs him   And rest enchanted on his oar to hear!
that, after a long struggle with her cherished  Thus bright, accomplish'd, spirited, and bland,
Well-born, and wealthy for that simple land,
love, her health had at last sunk under it, and  Why had no gallant native youth the art
that she now prayed only'to see him  once To win so warm-so exquisite a heart?
more before she died! His wife generously  She, midst these rocks inspir'd with feeling strong
urges him to comply with this piteous request. By mountain-freedom —music-fancy-song,
e does so; and arrives, in the midst of wintry'Herself descended from the brave in arms,
tempests, to seea this pure victim  of  too warm  And conscious of romance-inspiring charms,
tempests, to see this pure victim of too warm  Dreamt of Heroic beings; hoped to find
an imagination expire, in smiles of speechless Some extant spirit of chivalric kind;
gratitude and love. While mourning over And scorning wealth, look'd-cold ev'n on the claim
her, he is appalled by tidings of the dangerous Of manly worth, that lack'd the wreath of Fame.'"
illness of his beloved Constance-hurries to                                       pp. 3-.
England-and finds her dead!-her fate hav-   We pass over the animated picture of the
ing been precipitated, if not occasioned, by brother's campaigns, and of the fame of Theothe harsh and violent treatment she had met dric, and the affectionate gratitude of parents
with from her heartless relations.  The piece and sister for his care and praises of their
closes with a very touching letter she had left noble boy. We must make room, however,
for her husband-and an account of its sooth- for this beautiful sketch of his return.
ing effects on his mind.                       "In time, the stripling, vigorous and heal'd,
This, we confess, is slight enough, in the  Resum'd his barb and banner in the field,
way of fable and incident: But it is not in  And bore himself right soldier-like, till now
those things that the merit of such poems The third campaign had manlier bronz'd his brow,
consists; and what we have given is of course  When peace, though but a scanty pause for breatha mere naked outline, or argument rather, Acurtain-dropbetweentheacts of deathintended only to explain.and connect our A check in frantic war's unfinished game,
intended only to explain -and  connect our Yet dearly bought, and direly welcome, came.
extracts.                                      The camp broke up, and Udolph lefthis chief
For these, we cannot possibly do better As with a son's or younger brother's grief:
than begin with the beginning.                 But journeying home, how rapt his spirits rose!
How light his footsteps crush'd St. Gothard's snows!
Twas sunset, and the Ranz des Vaches was sung, How dear seem'd ev'n the waste and wild ShreckAnd lights were o'er th' Helvetian mountains flung,  horn,
That gave the glacier tops their richest glow,  Though wrapt in clouds, and frowning as in scorn,
And ting'd the lakes like molten gold below.   Upon a downward world of pastoral charms;
Warmth flush'd the wonted regions of the storm,   Where, by the very smell of dairy-farms,
Where, Phbenix-like, you saw the eagle's form,    And fragrance from the mountain-herbage blown,
That high in Heav'ns vermilion wheel'd and soar'd! Blindfold his native hills he could have known!
Woods nearer frown'd; and cataracts dash'd and    His comi  down yon lake-his boat in view
F roar'd,. heghs roze b te oudig ouuein*Of windows where love's flutt'ring kerchief flewFrom heights brouzed by the bounding bouquetin;   The arms spread out for him-the tears that burstH~erds tinkling roam'd the long-drawn valesbe-  ms spread out for him-the tears that burstHerds tweeling roam'd the long-drawn     ('Twas Julia's,'twas his sister's met him first:)
A nd hamlets glitter'd white, ad gardens   green. I'heir pride to see war's medal at his breast,
And hamlets glitter'd white, and gardens flourish'd
Twas trebright sweet air?          And all their rapture's greeting, may be guess'd."
The mountain-bee was revelling in its glare,
And roving with his minstrelsy across            At last the generous warrior appears in perThe scented wild weeds, and enamell'd moss.   son among those innocent beings, to whom he
Earth's features so harmoniously were link'd, had so long furished the grand theme of dis
She seem'd one great glad form, with life instinct, course and meditation.
That felt Heav'n's ardent breath, and smil'd below
Its flush of love with consentaneous glow.     "The boy was half beside himself-the sire,
A Gothic church was near; the spot around     All frankness, honour, and Helvetian fire,
Was beautiful, ev'n though sepulchral ground;    Of speedy parting would not hear him speak;
For there nor yew nor cypress spread their gloom, And tears bedew'd and brighten'd Julia's cheek.
But roses blossom'd by each rustic tomb.
Amidst them one of spotless marble shone-        "Thus, loth to wound their hospitable pride,
A maiden's grave —and'twas inscrib'd thereon,    A month he promis'd with them to abide;
That young and lov'd she died whose dust was As blithe he trod the mountain-sward as they,
there                              was And felt his joy make ev'n the young more gay
"' Yes,' said my comrade,' young she died, and How jocund was their breakfast parlour, fann'd
fair!                                    By yon blue water's breath!-their walks how
bland!
Orace form'd her, and the soul of gladness play'd  Fair Julia seem'd her brother's soften'd spriteOnce in the blue eyes of that mountain-maid!  Agem reflecting Nature's purestlightHer fingers witch'd the chords they passed along,A   with her grace   wit tere was inwrought
And her lips seem'd to kiss the soul in son    A wildly sweet unworldliness of thought,
And her lips seem'd to kiss the soul in song: with her graceful wit there was inwrought
Yet woo'd and worshipp'd as she was, till few    wildly sweet unworldlike to hss of thought,
That almost child-like to his kindness drew,
Aspir'd to hope,'twas sadly, strangely true,   And twa  with Udolph  his friendship grew.
That heart, the martyr of its fondness burn'd      twain with Udolph in his f  riendship grew.
And died of love that could not be return'd.  But did his thoughts to love one moment range rNo! he who had lov'd Constance could not change.'' Her father dwelt where yonder Castle shines   Besides, till grief betray'd her undesign'd,




CAMPBELL'S THEODRIC.                                     a$
Th' unlikely thought could scarcely reach his mind, To share existence with her, and to gain
That eyes so young on years like his should beam  Sparks from her love's electrifying chain,
Unwoo'd devotion back for pure esteem."        Of that pure pride, which, less'ning to her breast
pp. 17, 18.   I,ife's ills, gave all its joys a treble zest,
Before the mind completely understood
Symptoms still more unequivocal, however, That mighty truth-how happy ore the good!"
at last make explanations necessary; and he                                           p. 25.
is obliged to disclose to her the secret of his
love and engagement in England. The effects    All this, we think, is dignified enough for
of this disclosure  and all the intermediate  poetry of any description; but we really canof events, are dscure, and awith the saintermedi grace not extend the same indulgence to the small
events, are described with the same grace
and delicacy.  But we pass at once to the tracassaries of this noble creature's unworthy
and delicacy. But we pass at once to the relations-their peevish quarrels, and  her
close of poor Julia's pure-hearted romance.   relations-their peevish quarrels, and  her
painful attempts to reconcile them -her hus"That winter's eve how darkly Nature's brow   band's grudges at her absence on those erScowl'd on the scenes it lights so lovely now!  rands-their teazing visits to him-and his
The tempest, raging o'er the realms of ice,.               v
The tempest, raging o'er the realms of ice,    vexation at their false reports that she was to
Shook fragments from the rifted precipice;
spend "yet a fortnight " away from him. We
And whilst their falling echoed to the wind,   s       "yet a fortnight" away from him. We
The wolf's long howl in dismal discord join'd,  object equally to the substance and the dicWhile white yon water's foam was rais'd in clouds tion of the passages to which we now refer.
That whirl'd like spirits wailing in their shrouds:   There is something questionable even in the
Without was Nature's elemental din-            fatal indications by which, on approaching
And Beauty died, and Friendship wept within!        his home, he was first made aware of the
his homem% he was first made aware of the
"Sweet Julia, though her fate,was finish'd half, calamity which had befallen him-though
Still knew him —smil'd on him with feeble laugh —  undoubtedly there is a terrible truth and imAnd blest him, till she drew her latest sigh!  pressive brevity in the passage.
pressive brevity in the passage.
" But lo! while Udolph's bursts of agony,
And age's tremulous wailings, round him rose,            "Nor hope left utterly his breast,
What accents pierced him deeper yet than those!  Till reaching home, terrific omen! there'Twas tidings-by his English messenger         The straw-laid street preluded his despairOf Constance-brief and terrible they were," &c. The servant's look-the table that reveal'd
pp. 35, 36.   His letter sent to Constance last, still seal'd,
Though speech and hearing left him, told too clear
These must suffice as specimens of the  That he had now to suffer-not to fear!"-p. 37.
Swiss part of the poem, which'we have already said we consider as on the whole the    We shall only add the pathetic letter in
most perfect.  The English portion is un- which this noble spirit sought, from her death.
doubtedly liable to the imputation of being  bed, to soothe the beloved husband she was
occupied with scenes too familiar, and events leaving with so much reluctance.
too trivial, to admit of the higher embellish-      Theodric! this is destiny above
ments of poetry.  The occasion of Theodric's Our power to baffle! Bear it then, my love!
first seeing Constance-in the streets of Lon- Your soul, I know, as firm is knit to mine
don on a night of public rejoicing-certainly  As these clasp'd hands in blessing you now join:
trespasses on the borders of this wilful stoop- Shape not imagin'd horrors in my fateEv'n now my suff'rings are not very great;
ing of the Muses' flight-though the scene
And when your grief's first transports shall sub.
itself is described with great force and beauty. I call upon your strength of soul and pride  [side,
"'Twas a glorious sight!      To pay my memory, if'tis worth the debt
&t eve stupendous London, clad in light,       Love's glorifying tribute-not forlorn regret t
Pour'd out triumphant multitudes to gaze;      I charge my name with power to conjure up
Youth, age, wealth, penury, smiling in the blaze!  Reflection's balmy, not its bitter cup.
rh' illumin'd atmosphere was warm and bland,    My pard'ning angel, at-the gates of Heaven,
And Beauty's groups the fairest of the land,   Shall look not more regard than you have given
Conspicuous, as in some wide festive room,     To me: and our life's union has been clad
in open chariots pass'd, withpearl and plume.  In smiles of bliss as sweet as life e'er had.
Qmidst them he remark'd a lovelier mien, &e.
Amidst them he remark'd a lovelier mien," &c.   Shall gloom be from such bright remembrance cast?
p. 15.   Shall bitterness outflow from sweetness past?
No! imaged in the sanctuary of your breast,
The description of Constance herself, how- There let me smile, amidst high thoughts at rest;
ever is not liable to this, or to any other ob- And let contentment on your spirit shine,
jectlon.                                       As if its peace were still a part of mine:
For if you war not proudly with your pain,
---— " And toknow her well   For you I shall have worse than liv'd in vain.
Prolong'd, exalted, bound, enchantment's spell;   But I conjure your manliness to bear
For with affections warm, intense, refin'd,    My loss with noble spirit-not despair.
She mix'd such calm and holy strength of mind,   I ask you by our love to promise this!
That, like Heav'n's image in the smiling brook,   And kiss these words, where I have left a kissCelestial peace was pictur'd in her look.      The latest from my living lips for yours?' "
iers was the brow, in trials unperplex'd,                                       pp. 39-41.
That cheer'd the sad and tranquilliz'd the vex'd.
the studied not the meanest to eclipse,          The tone of this tender farewell must reAnd yet the wisest listen'd to her lips;       mind all our readers of the catastrophe of
She sang not, knew not Music's magic skill,    Gertrude; and certainly exposes the author to
But yet her voice had tones that sway'd the will." the charge of some poverty of invention in
" To paint that being to a grov'ling mind    the structure of his pathetic narratives-d
Were like pourtraying pictures to the blind.   charge from which we are not at this moment'Twas needful ev'n infectiously to feel        particularly solicitous to defend him.
Her temper's fond, and firm, and gladsome zeal,  The minor poems which occupy the rest.f




858                                      POETRY.
the volume are of various character, and of Your hangman fingers cannot touch his fame.
course of unequal merit; though all of them  Still in your prostrate land there shall be some
are marked by that exquisite melody of ver- Proud hearts, the shrines of Freedom's vestal flame.
sification, and  general felicity of diction, Long trains of ill may pass unheeded, dumb,
general felicity of diction  But Vengeance is behind, and Justice is to come.'
which makes the mere recitation of their                                       pp. 78-81.
words a luxury to readers of taste, even when
they pay but little attention to their sense.   Mr. Campbell's muse, however, is by no
Most of them, we believe, have already ap- means habitually political; and the greater
peared in occasional publications, though it is part of t   he pieces in this volume have a purely
quite time that they should be collected and  moral or poetical character.   The exquisite
engrossed in a less perishable record. If stanzas to the Rainbow, we believe, are in
they are less brilliant, on the whole, than the  every body's hands; but we cannot resist the
most exquisite productions of the author's temptation of transcribing the latter part of
earlier days, they are generally marked, we  them.
think, by greater solemnity and depth of          "When o'er the green undelug'd earth
thought, a vein of deeper reflection, and more        Heaven's covenant thou didst shine,
intense sympathy with human feelings and,           How came the world's grey fathers forth
if possible, by a more resolute and entire de-        To watch thy sacred sign?
votion to the cause of liberty. Mr. Campbell,     "And when its yellow lustre smil'd
we rejoice to say, is not among those poets           O'er mountains yet untrod,
whose hatred of oppression has been chilled         Each mother held aloft her child
by the lapse of years, or allayed by the sug-         To bless the bow of God!
gestions of a base self-interest.  He has held     "Methinks, thy jubilee to keep,
on his course through good and thriough bad           The first-made anthem rang,
report, unseduced, unterrified; and is now          On earth deliver'd from the deep,
And the first poet sang.
found in his duty, testifying as fearlessly
against the invaders of Spain, in the volume      "Nor ever shall the Muse's eye
before us, as he did against the spoilers of          Unraptur'd greet thy beam:
Poland in the very first of his publications. It   BTheme still the primoetval propheme 
is a proud thing indeed for England, for poetry,
and for mankind. that all the illustrious poets      The ar  thy welcome sincense yields,
of the present day-Byron, Moore, Rogers                   lark thy welcome sings,
of the present day —Byron   Moore, Rogers,          When glitt'ring in the freshen'd fields
Campbell-are distinguished by their zeal for          The snowy mushroom springs!
freedom, and their scorn for courtly adulation; while those who have deserted that             How glousis thy girdle cast
O'er mountain, tower, and town,
manly and holy cause have, from  that hour,         Or mirror'd in the ocean vast,
felt their inspiration withdrawn, their harp-         A thousand fathoms down!
strings broken, and the fire quenched in their    " As fresh in yon horizon dark,
censers!  Even the Laureate, since his un-            As young thy beauties seem,
happy Vision of Judgment, has ceased to             As when the eagle from the ark
sing; and fallen into undutiful as well as            First sported in thy beam.
ignoble silence, even on court festivals.  As     " For, faithful to its sacred page,
a specimen of the tone in which an unbought           Heaven still rebuilds thy span,
Muse  can yet address herself to public             Nor lets thy type grow pale with age
themes, we subjoin a few stanzas of a noble           That first spoke peace to man."
ode to the Memory of the Spanish Patriots                                    pp. 52-55.
who died in resisting the late atrocious inva-    The beautiful verses on Mr. Kemble's re.
sion.                                         tirement from  the stage afford a very re" Brave men who at the Trocadero fell       markable illustration of the tendency of Mr.
Beside your cannons-conquer'd not, though slain! Campbell's genius to raise ordinary themes
There is a victory in dying well              into occasions of pathetic poetry, and to invest
For Freedom-and ye have not died in vain;     trivial occurrences with the mantle of solemn
Foir come what may, there shall be hearts in Spain  thought.  We add a few of the stanzas.
To honour, ay, embrace your mnartyr'd lot,
Cursing the Bigot's and the Bourbon's chain,     "His was the spell o'er hearts
And looking on your graves, though trophied not.     Which only acting lendsAs holier, hallow'd ground than priests could make  The youngest of the sister Arts,
the spot!"                                  Where all their beauty blends:
" Yet laugh not in your carnival of crime        For ill can Poetry express,
Too proudly, ye oppressors!-Spain was free;         Full many a tone of thought sublime,
Her soil has felt the foot-prints, and her clime   And Painting, mute and motionless,
Been winnow'd by the wings of Liberty!               Steals but a glance of time.
And these, even parting, scatter as they flee      But by the mighty Actor brought,
Thoughts-influences, to live in hearts unborn,       Illusion's perfect triumphs comeOpinions that shall wrench the prison-key          Verse ceases to be airy thought,
From Persecution-show her mask off-torn,             And Sculpture to be dumb."
A.nd tramp her bloated head beneath the foot of
Scorn.                                   " High were the taslk —too high,
Ye conscious bosoms here!
Glory to them that die in this great cause!   In words to paint your memory
Kings, Bigots, can inflict no brand of shame,        Of Kemble and of Lear!
Or shape of death, to shroud them from applause:-  But who forgets that white discrowned head,
No!-manglers of the martyr's earthly frame!    Those bursts of Reason'shalf-extinguish'd glare'




SCOTT'S LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.                              359
Those tears upon Cordelia's bosom shed,      case, he prefer other employments to the
In doubt more touching than despair,      feverish occupation of poetry, he has a right
surely to choose his employments-and is
"And there was many an hour               more likely to choose well, than the herd of
Of blended kindred fame,              his officious advisers.  For our own parts,
When Siddons's auxiliar power           we are ready at all times to hail his appearAnd sister magic came.                ances with delight-but we wait for them'rogether at the Muse's side
The tragic paragons had grown-        with respect and patience; and conceive that
They were the children of her pride,    we have no title to accelerate them by our
The columns of her throne!           reproaches.
And undivided favour ran                  Before concluding, we would wish also to
e rom heart to heart in their applause,  protect him against another kind of injustice.
Save for the gallantry of man,          Comparing the small bulk of his publications
In lovelier woman's cause."-pp. 64-67.  Comparing the small bulk of his publications
with the length of time that elapses between
We have great difficulty in resisting the them, people are apt to wonder that so little
temptation to go on: But in conscience we has been produced after so long an incubamnst stop here. We are ashamed, indeed, tion, and that poems are not better which are
to think how'considerable a proportion of this the work of so many years-absurdly suppolittle volume we have already transferred into sing, that the ingenious author is actually
our extracts.  Nor have we much to say of labouring all the while at what he at last
the poems we have not extracted.  "The produces, and has been diligently at work
Ritter Bannal and "Reullurall are the two during the whole interval in perfecting that
longest pieces, after Theodric-but we think which is at last discovered to fall short of
not the most successful.  Some of the songs perfection! To those who know the habits
are exquisite-and most of the occasional of literary men, nothing however can be more
poems too good for occasions.                ridiculous than this supposition. Your true
The volume is very small-and it contains drudges, with whom all that is intellectual
all that the distinguished author has written moves most wretchedly slow, are the quickest
for many years. We regret this certainly:-  and most regular with their publications;
but we do not presume to complain of it. while men of genius, whose thoughts play
The service of the Muses is a free service-  with the ease and rapidity of lightning, often
and all that we receive from their votaries is seem tardy to the public. because there are
a free gift, for which we are bound to them  long intervals between the flashes! We are
in gratitude-not a tribute, for the tardy far from  undervaluing that care and labour
rendering of which they are to be threatened without which no finished performance can
or distrained.  They stand to the public in ever be produced by mortals; and still farther
the relation of benefactors, not of debtors. from  thinking it a reproach to any author,
They shower their largesses on unthankful that he takes pains to render his works worthy
heads; and disclaim  the trammels of any of his fame. But when the slowness and the
sordid contract. They are not articled clerks, size of his publications are invidiously put
in short, whom we are entitled to scold for together in order to depreciate their merits,
their idleness, but the liberal donors of im- or to raise a doubt as to the force of the gemortal possessions; for which they require  nius that produced them, we think it right to
only the easy quit-rent of our praise. If Mr. enter our caveat against a conclusion, which
Campbell is lazy, therefore, he has a right to is as rash as it is ungenerous; and indicates
enjoy his laziness, unmolested by our'impor- a spirit rather of detraction than of reasonable
tunities.  If, as we rather presume is the  judgment.
(Aprit,  100.)
The Lay of the Last Minstrel: a Poem. By WALTER SCOTT, Esq. 4to. pp. 318. Edinburgh,
Constable and Co.: London, Lbongman and Co.: 1805.*
WE consider this poem as an attempt to metrical romance. The author, enamoured
transfer the refinements of modern poetry to of the lofty visions of chivalry, and partial
the matter and the manner of the ancient to the strains in which they were formerly
* The Novels of Sir Walter Scott have, no contemporary notices of the two poems which I
doubt, cast his Poetry into the shade: And it is think produced the greatest effectat the time: the
beyond question that they must always occupy the one as the first and most strikingly original of the
highest and most conspicuous place in that splendid whole series: the other as being on the whole
trophy which his genius has rored to his memory. the best; and also as having led me to make some
Yet, when I recollect the vehement admiration it remarks, not only on the general character of the
once excited, I cannot part with the belief that author' s genius, but on the peculiar perils of
there is much in his poetry also, which our age very popular poetry-of which the time that has
should not allow to be forgotten. And it is under since elapsed has afforded some curious illustrathis impression that I now venture to reprint my tions.




360                                  POETRY.
embodied, seems to have employed all the tains should have monopolised as much pot.
resources of his genius in endeavouring to try as might have served to immortalise the
recall them to the favour and admiration of whole baronage of the empire, we are the
the public; and in adapting to the taste of more inclined to admire the interest and mag.
modern readers a species of poetry which nificence which he has contrivea to communi.
was once the delight of the courtly, but has cate to a subject so unpromising.
long ceased to gladden any other eyes than   Whatever may be thought of the conduct
those of the scholar'and the antiquary. This of the main story, the'manner of introducing
is a romance, therefore, composed by a min- it must be allowed to be extremely poetical.
strel of the present day; or such a romance An aged minstrel whn had "harped to King
as we may suppose would have been written Charles the Good," and learned to love his art
in modern times, if that style of composition at a time when it was honoured by all that
had continued to be cultivated, and partaken was distinguished in rank or in genius, having
consequently of the improvements which fallen into neglect and misery in the evil days
every branch of literature has received since of the usurpation, and the more frivolous gaiethe time of its desertion.                ties or bitter contentions of the succeeding
Upon this supposition, it was evidently Mr. reigns, is represented as wandering about the
Scott's business to retain all that was good, Border in poverty and solitude, a few years
and to reject all that was bad in the models after the Revolution. In this situation he is
upon which he was to form himself; adding, driven, by want and weariness, to seek shelter
at the same time, all the interest and beauty in the Border castle of the Duchess of Bucwhich could possibly be assimilated to the clench and Monmouth; and beingcheered by
manner and spirit of his originals. It was his the hospitality of his reception, offers to sing
duty, therefore, to reform the rambling, ob- "an ancient strain," relating to the old warscure, and interminable narratives of the an- riors of her family; and after some fruitless
cient romancers-to moderate their digressions attempts to recall the long-forgotten melody,
-to abridge or retrench their unmerciful or pours forth "The Lay of the Last Minstrel,'
needless descriptions-and to expunge alto- in six cantos, very skilfully divided by some
gether those feeble and prosaic passages, the recurrence to his own situation, and some
rude stupidity of which is so apt to excite the complimentary interruptions from his noble
derision of a modern reader. At the same auditors.
time, he was to rival, if he could, the force and   The construction of a fable seems by no
vivacity of their minute and varied representa- means the forte of our modern poetical writions-the characteristic simplicity of their ters; and no great artifice,. in that respect, was
pictures of manners —the energy and concise- to be expected, perhaps, from an imitator of
ness with which they frequently describe the ancient romancers. Mr. Scott, indeed,
great events-and the lively colouring and ac- has himself insinuated, that he considered the
curate drawing by which they give the effect story as an object of very subordinate imof reality to every scene they undertake to portance; and that he was less solicitous to
delineate. In executing this arduous task, he deliver a regular narrative, than to connect
was permitted to avail himself of all that such a series of incidents as might enable him
variety of style and manner which had been to introduce the manners he had undertaken
sanctioned by the ancient practice; and bound to delineate, and the imagery with which
to embellish his performance with all the they were associated. Though the conception
graces of diction and versification which could of the fable is, probably from these causes,
be reconciled to the simplicity and familiarity exceedingly defective, it is proper to lay a
of the minstrel's song.                    short sketch of it before our readers, both for
With what success Mr. Scott's efforts have the gratification of their curiosity, and to fabeen'attended in the execution of this adven- cilitate the application of the remarks we may
turous undertaking, our readers will be better be afterwards tempted to offer.
able to judge in the sequel: but. in the mean   Sir Walter Scott of Buccleuch, the Lord of
time, we may safely venture to assert, that he Branksome, was slain in a skirmish with the
has produced a very beautiful and entertain- Cars, about the middle of the sixteenth cening poem, in a style which may fairly be con- tury. He left a daughter of matchless beauty,
sidered as original; and which will be allowed an infant son, and a high-minded widow, who,
to afford satisfactory evidence of the genius though a very virtuous and devout person, was
of the author, even though he should not suc- privately addicted to the study of Magic in
ceed in converting the public to his own which she had been initiated by her father.
opinion as to the interest or dignity of the sub- Lord Cranstoun their neighbour was at feud
ject. We are ourselves inclined indeed to with the whole clan of Scott; but had fallen
suspect that his partiality for the strains of desperately in love with the daughter, who
antiquity has imposed a little upon the sever- returned his passion with equal sincerity and
ity of his judgment, and impaired the beauty ardour, though withheld, by her duty -to her
of the present imitation, by directing his at- mother, from uniting her destiny with his.
~tention rather to what was characteristic, than The poem opens with a description of the war.,to what was unexceptionable in his originals. like establishment of Branksome-hall; and
Though he has spared too many of their faults, the first incident which occurs is a dialogue
however, he has certainly improved upon between the Spirits of the adjoining mountain
their beauties: and while we can scarcely and river, who, after consulting the stars, de.
berJ 1 e.gretting, that the feuds of Border chief  cldare that no good fortune can ever bless the




SCOTT'S I AY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.                        d6i
mansion " till pride be quelled, and love be carry him off; while the goblin page returns
free."  The lady, whose forbidden studies to the castle; where he personates the young
had taught her to understand the language of baron; to the great annoyance of the whole
Quch speakers, overhears this conversation; inhabitants.
and vows, if possible, to retain her purpose in   The lady finds the wounded knight, and
spite of it. She calls a gallant knight of her eagerly employs charms for his recovery, that
train. therefore, and directs him to ride im- she may learn the story of his disaster. The
mediately to the abbey of Melrose,,qjd there lovely Margaret, in the mean time, is sitting
to ask, from the monk of St. Mary's aisle the in her turret, gazing on the western star, and
mighty book that was hid in the tomb ofi the musing on the scenes of the morning, when
wizard Michael Scott. The remainder of the she discovers the blazing beacons that anfirst canto is ocqcupied with the night journey nounce the approach of an English enemy.
of the warrior. When he delivers his mes- The alarm is immediately given, and bustling
sage, the monk appears filled with consterna- preparation made throughout the mansion for
tion and terror, but leads him at last through defence. The English force under the commany galleries and chapels to the spot where mand of the Lords Howard and Dacre speedily
the wizard was interred; and, after some ac- appears before the castle, leading with them
count of his life and character, the warrior the young Buccleuch; and propose that the
heaves up the tomb-stone, and is dazzled by lady should either give up Sir William of
the streaming splendour of an ever-burning Deloraine (who had been her messenger to
lamp, which illuminates the sepulchre of the Melrose), as having incurred the guilt of
enchanter. With trembling hand he takes march treason, or receive an English garrison
the book from the side of the deceased, and within her walls. She answers. with much
hurries home with it in his bosom.       spirit, that her kinsman will clear himself of
In the mean time, Lord Cranstoun and the the imputation of treason by single combat;
lovely Margaret have met at dawn in the and that no foe shall ever get admittance into
woods adjacent to the castle, and are repeat- her fortress.  The English Lords. being seing their vows of true love, when they are cretly apprised of the approach of powerful
startled by the approach of a horseman. The succours to the besieged, agree to the proposal
lady retreats; and the lover advancing, finds of the combat; and stipulate that the boy
it to be the messenger from Branksome, with shall be restored to liberty or detained in
whom, as an hereditary enemy, he thinks it bondage, according to the issue of the battle.
necessary to enter immediately into combat. The lists are appointed for the ensuing day;
The poor knight, fatigued with his nocturnal and a truce being proclaimed in the mean
adventures, is dismounted at the first shock, time, the opposite bands mingle in hospitality
and falls desperately wounded to the ground; and friendship.
while Lord Cranstoun, relenting towards the   Deloraine being wounded, was expected to
kinsman of his beloved, directs his page to appe.ar by a champion; and some contention
attend him to the castle, and gallops home arises for the honour of that substitution.before any alarm can be given. Lord Cran- This, however, is speedily terminated by a
stoun's page is something unearthly. It is a person in the armour of the warrior himself,
little misshapen dwarf, whom he found one who encounters the English champion, slays
day when he was hunting. in a solitary glen, him, and leads his captive young chieftain to
and took home with him. It never speaks. the embraces of his mother. At this moment
except now and then to cry "Lost! lost! Deloraine himself appears, half-clothed and
lost!" and is, on the whole, a hateful, mali- unarmed, to claim the combat which has been
cious little urchin, with no one good quality terminated in his absence! and all flock
but his unaccountable, attachment and fidelity around the stranger who had personated him
to his master. This personage, on approaching so successfully. He unclasps his helmet 
the wounded Borderer, discovers the mighty and behold! Lord Cranstoun of Teviotside
book in his bosom, which he finds some diffi- The lady, overcome with gratitude, and the
culty in opening, and has scarcely had time remembrance of the spirits' prophecy, conto read a single spell in it, when he is struck sents to forego the feud, and to give the fair
down by an invisible hand, and the clasps of hand of Margaret to that of the enamoured
the magic volume shut suddenly more closely Baron. The rites of betrothment are then
than ever. This one spell, however, enables celebrated with great magnificence; and a
him to practice every kind of illusion. He splendid entertainment given to all the Englays the wounded knight on his horse, and lish and Scottish chieftains whom the alarm
leads him into the castle, while the warders had assembled at Branksome. Lord Cransee nothing but a wain of hay. He throws stoun's page plays several unlucky tricks
him down, unperceived, at the door of the during the festival, and breeds some dissenlady's chamber, and turns to make good his sion among the warriors. To soothe their
retreat. In passing throngh the court, how- ireful mood, the minstrels are introduced
ever, he sees the young heir of Buecleuch at who recite three ballad pieces of considerable
play, and, assuming the form of one of his merit. Just as their songs are ended, a super
companions, tempts him to go out with him  natural darkness spreads itself through the
to the woods, where, as soon as they pass a hall; a tremendous flash of lightning and peal
rivulet, he resumes his own shape, and bounds of thunder ensue, which break just on the
away. The bewildered child is met by two spot where the goblin page had been seated,
English archers, who make prize of him, and who is heard to cry " Foun i! found! found I1X




362                                   POETRY.
and is no more to be seen, when the darkness management of its successive incidents.  nll
clears away. The whole party is chilled with these more essential particulars, Mr. Scott's
terror at this extraordinary incident; and merits, we think, are unequivocal. He writes
Deloraine protests that he distinctly saw the throughout with the spirit and the force of a
figlre of the ancient wizard Michael Scott in poet; and though he occasionally discovers a
the middle of the lightning.  The lady re- little too much, perhaps, of the "brave negnounces for ever the unhallowed study of lect," and is frequently inattentive to the
magic; and all the chieftains, struclk with delicate propriety and scrupulous correctness
awe and consternation, vow to make a pil- of his diction, he compensates for those degrimage to Melrose, to implore rest and for- fects by the fire and animation of his whole
giveness for the spirit of the departed sorcerer. composition. and the brilliant colouring and
With the description of this ceremony the prominent features of the figures with which
minstrel closes his  "Lay.                  he has enlivened it. We shall now proceed
From  this ijttle sketch of the story, our to lay before our readers some of the passages
readers will Ba'fy- perceive, that, however which have made the greatest impression on
well calculated it may be for the introduction our own minds; subjoining, at the same time,
of picturesque imagery, or the display of ex- such observations as they have most forcibly
traordinary incident, it has but little preten- suggested.
sion to the praise of a regular or coherent   In the very first rank of poetical excellence
narrative. The magic of the lady, the mid- we are inclined to place the introductory and
night visit to Melrose. and the mighty book concluding lines of every canto; in which'the
of the enchanter, which occupy nearly one- ancient strain is suspended, and the feelings
third of the whole poem, and engross the and situation of the Minstrel himself deattention of the reader for a long time after scribed in the words of the author.  The
the commencement of the narrative, are of elegance and the beauty of this setting, if we
no use whatsoever inthe subsequent develop- may so call it, though entirely of modern
ment of the fable, and do not contribute, in workmanship, appears to us to be fully more
any degree, either to the production or ex- worthy of admiration than the bolder relief
planation of the incidents that follow. The of the antiques which it encloses; and leads
whole character and proceedings of the goblin us to regret that the author should have wastpage, in like manner, may be' considered as ed, in imitation an(l antiquarian researches
merely episodical; for though he is employed so much of those powers which seem fully
in some of the subordinate incidents. it is equal to the task of raising him an independent
remarkable that no material part of the fable reputation. In confirmation of these remarks
requires the  intervention of  supernatural we give a conlsiderable part of the introduc.
agency. The young Buccleuch might have tion to the whole poem:wandered into the wood, although he had not
been decoyed by a goblin; and the dame' The way was long, the wind wfs cold,
might have given her daughter to the deliverer   His wither'd cheek, and tresses gray,
of her son, although she had never listened   Seem'd to have known a better day;
to the prattlement of the river and mountain   The harp, his sole remaining joy,
spirits. There is. besides all this, a great deal   Was carried by an orphan boy.
of gratuitous and digressive description, and   The last of all the Bards was he,
the whole sixth canto may be said to be re-   Who sung of Border chivalry;
dundant.  Te  story should naturally end,,For, well-a-day! their date was fled,
dun~dant. MTe story should naturally end   His tuneful brethren all were dead;
with the unioh of the lovers; and the account   And he, neglected and oppress'd,
of the feast, and the minstrelsy that solem-   Wish'd to be with them, and at rest!
nised their betrothment is a sort of epilogue,   No more, on prancing palfrey borne,
superadded after the catastrophe is complete.   He caroll'd, light as lark at morn;
But though we feel it to be our duty to   No loner, courted and caress'd,
Higoh plac'd in hall, a welcome guest,
point out these obvious defects in the struc-   He pour'd, to lord and lady gay,
ture of the fable, we have no hesitation in   The unpremeditated lay 
conceding to the author, that the fable is but   Old times were chang'd, old manners gone!
a secondary consideration in performances of   A stranger fill'd the Stuarts' throne;
this nature. A poem is intended to please by   The bigots of the iron time
Had call'd his harmless art a crime.
the images it suggests, and the feelings it   A wand'ring harper, scorn'd and poori
inspires; and if it contain delightful images   He begg'd his bread from door to door;
and affecting sentiments, our pleasure will not   And tun'd, to please a peasant's ear,
be materially impaired by some slight want   The harp, a King had lov'd to hear."-pp. 3, 4.
of probability or coherence in the narrative After describing his introduction to the
by which they are connected. The call'da   After describing his introduction to the
junctura of its members is a grace, no doubt, presence of the Duchess, and his offer to
whvhich ought always to be aimed at; but the entertain her with his music, the description
quality of the members themselves is a con- proceeds;sideration of far higher importance; and that " The humble boon was soon obtain'd;
by which alone the success and character of   The aged Minstrel audience gain'd.
the work must be ultimately decided. The But, when he reach'd the room of state,
adjustment of a fable may indicate the indus-   Where she, with all her ladies, sate,
Perchance he wish'd his boon denied!
try or the judgment of the writer; but the   For, when to tune his -harp he tried,
Genius of the poet can only be shown in his   His trembling hand had lost the ease




SCOTT'S LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL.                               36X
Which marks security to please;              No longer steel-clad warriors ride
And scenes, long past, of joy and pain,        Along thy wild and willow'd shore;
Came wild'ring o'er his aged brain-          Where'er thou wind'st, by dale or hill,
Amid the strings his fingers stray'd,         All, all is peaceful, all is still,
And an uncertain warbling made-                As if thy waves, since'rime was born
And oft he shook his hoary head.             Since first they roll'd their way to Tweed,
But when he caught the measure wild,         Had only heard the shepherd's reed,
The old man rais'd his face and smil'd;        Nor started at the bugle-horn!
And lighten'd up his faded eye,              Unlike the tide of human time,
With all the poet's ecstasy!                Unlke   the  tide of human time,
In varying cadence, soft or strong,            Which, though it change in ceaseless flow
He  swept t he s ounding chords alongRetains each grief, retains each crime,
The present scene, the future lot,             It's earliest course was doom'd to know;
His toils, his wants, were all forgot;       And, darker as it downward bears,
Cold diffidence, and age's frost,            Is stain'd with past and present tears!
In the full tide of song were lost.            Low as that tide has ebb'd.with me,
Each blank, in faithless mem'ry void,        It still reflects to Mem'ry's eye
The poet's glowing thought supplied;         The hour, my brave, my only boy,
And, while his harp responsive rung,           Fell by the side of great Dundee.'Twas thus the LATEST MINSTREL sung."        Why, when the volleying musket pla'd
p. 6.-8.      Against the bloody Highland blade,
Why was not I beside him laid!We add, chiefly on account of their brevity.   Enough-he died the death of fame;
the following lines, which immediately suc-   Enough-he died with conquering Graeme."
ceed the description of the funeral rites of'                               pp. 93, 94.
the English champion: —. )  There are several other detached passages
" The harp's wild notes, though hush'd the song, of equal beauty, which might be quoted in
The mimic march of death prolong;          proof of the effect which is produced by this
Now seems it far, and now a-near,          dramatic interference of the narrator; but we
Now meets, and now eludes the ear;         hasten to lay before our readers some of the
N ow seems some mountain's side to sweep,
Now faintly dies in valley deep;           more characteristic parts of the performance.
Seems now as if the Minstrel's wail,         The ancient romance owes much of its
Now the sad requiem loads the gale;       interest to the live_..picture which it affords
Last, o'er the warrior's closing grave,    of the times of  ivalry, and of those usages,
Rings the full choir in choral stave."     manners, and institutions which we have
pp. 155, 156.   been accustomed to associate in our minds,
The close of the poem is as follows:-      with a certain combination of magnificence'Hush'd is the harp-the Minstrel gone.      with simplicity, and ferocity with romantic
And did he wander forth alone?            honour.  The representations contained in
Alone, in indigence and age,               those performances, however, are for the
To linger out his pilgrimage?             most part too rude and naked to give comNo!-close beneath proud Newark's tower,    plete satisfaction.  The execution is always
Arose the Minstrel's lowly bower;          extremely unequal; and though the writer
A simple hut; but there was seen
The little garden hedg'd with green,       sometimes touches upon the appropriate feelThe cheerful hearth and lattice clean.     ing with great effect and felicity, still this
There, shelter'd wand'rers, by the blaze,  appears to be done more by accident than,
Oft heard the tale of other days;          design; and he wanders away immediately
For much he lov'd to ope his door,         into all sorts of ludicrous or uninteresting de-.
And give the aid he begg'd before.
So pass'd the winter's day-but still,      tails, without any apparent consciousness of
When summer smil'd on sweet Bowhill(      incongruity.  These defects Mr. Scott ha
And July's eve, with balmy breath,         corrected with admirable address and judgWav'd the blue-bells on Newark's he'ath;   me itn the greater part of the work now
And flourish'd, broad, Blackandro's oak,   before us; and while he has exhibited a very
The aged Harper's soul awoke!
Then woulaged Harper's souing  awkchievements high,  striking and impressive picture of the old
And circumstance o' Chivalry;              feudal usages and institutions, he has shown
Till the rapt traveller would stay,        still greater talent in engrafting upon those
Forgetful of the closing day;             descriptions all the tender or magnanimous
And Yarrow, as he roll'd along,            emotions to which the circumstances of the
Bore bpjrden to the Minstrel's song."      story naturally give rise. Without impairing
pp. 193, 194.    the antique air of the whole piece, or violating
Besides these, which are altogether de- the simplicity of the ballad style, he has contached from the lyric effusions of the min- trived in this way, to impart a much greater
st:el, srme of the most interesting passages dignity, and more powerful interest to his
of the poem are those in which he drops the production. than could ever be attained by
business of the story, to moralise, and apply the unskilful andt unsteady delineations of
to his own situation the images and reflec- the old romancers. Nothing, we think, can
tions it has suggested. After concluding one afford a finer illustration of this remark, than
canto with an account of the warlike array the opening stanzas of the whole poem; they
prepared for the reception of the English in- transport us at once into the days of knightly
vaders, he opens the succeeding one with the- daring and feudal hostility; at the same time
following beautiful verses:-                 that they suggest. and in a very interesting
" Sweet Teviot! by thy silver tide,        way,. all those softer sentiments which arise
The glaring bale-fires blaze no more!  oat of some parts of the description.




364                                      POETRY.'The feast was over in Branksome tower;         Far more fair Margaret lov'd and bless'd
And the Ladye had gone to her secret bower;    The hour of silence and of rest.
Her bower, that was guarded by word and b      On the hih turet, sitti
Deadly to hear, and deadly to tell-   [spe I           the   te      ng lone,
Jesu Maria, shield us well'                   She-wak'd at times the lute's soft tone;
No living wight, save the Ladye alone,         Touch'd a wild note, and all between
Had dar'd to cross the threshold stone.        Thought of the bower of hawthorns green;
Her golden hair stream'd free from band,' The tables were drawn, it was idlesse all;    Her fair cheek rested on her hand,
Knight, and page, and household squire,      Her blue eye sought the west afar,
Loiter'd through the lofty hall,               For lovers love the western star.
Or crowded round the ample fire.
The stag-hounds, weary with the chase,       " Is yon the star o'er Penchryst-Pen,
Lay stretch'd upon the rushy floor,          That rises slowly to her ken,
And urg'd in dreams the forest race,           And, spreading broad its wav'ring light,
From Teviot-stone to Eskdale-moor."          Shakes its loose tresses on the night?
pp. 9, 10.   Is yon red glare the western star?Ah!'tis the beacon-blaze of war!
After a very picturesque representation of   Scarce could she draw her tighten'd breath;
the military establishment of this old baronial   For well she knew the fire o death!
fortress, the minstrel proceeds,               " The warder view'd it blazing strong,
" Many a valiant knight is here; *And blew his war-note loud and long,
But he, the Chieftain of them all,             Till, at the high and haughty sound,
His sword hangs rusting on the wall,           Rock, wood, and river, rung around,
Beside his broken spear!                     The blast alarm'd the festal hall,
Bards long shall tell,                         And startled forth the warriors all;
How Lord Walter fell!                          Far downward in the castle-yard,
When startled burghers fled, afar,             Full many a torch and cresset glar'd;
The furies of the Border wflefar; *And helms and plumes, confusedly toss'd,
When the  stre ets of  h igh Dunedin           Were in the blaze half seen, half lost;
When the streets of h h Dunedin                And spears in wild disorder shook,
Saw lances gleam, andfalchions redden,         And spears in wild disorder shook,
Like reeds beside a frozen brook.
And heard the slogan's deadly yell- 
Then the Chief of Branksome fell!            " The Seneschal, whose silver hair,
Was redden'd by the torches' glare,
" Can piety the discord heal,   e              Stood in the midst, with gesture proud,
Or staunch the death-feud's enmity tAnd issued forth his mandates loud
And issued forth his mandates loudCan Christian lore, can patriot zeal,'On Penchryst glows a bale of fire,
Can love of blessed charity..
Can love of blessed chahlrinty,              And three are kindling on Priesthaughswire
No! vainly to each holy shrine,                      &c.-pp. 83-85.
In mutual pilgrimage, they drew;
Implor'd, in vain, the grace divine            In these passages, the poetry of Mr. Scott is
For chiefs, their own red falchions slew,  entitled to a decided preference over that of
While Cessford owns the rule of Car,
While Ettrick boasts the line of Scott,   the  earlier minstrels; not only from   the
The slaughter'd chiefs, the mortal jar,        eater consistency andondesaon of his
The havoc of the feudal war,                 imagery but from  an intrins_         rrt  y
Shall never, never be forgot!              te nature_-c__ __i_ _aerlas.  From  the im" In sorrow o'er Lord Walter's bier,.           rovemet o        taste and the cultivation of the
The warlike foresters had bent;            finer feelings of the heart, poetry acquires, in
And many a flower and many a tear,           a refined age, many new and invaluable eleOld Teviot's maids and matron's lent:      ments, which are necessarily unknown in
But, o'er her warrior's bloody bier,
The Ladye dropp'd nor sigh nor tear!        period of greater simplicity. The descriptionl
The Ladye dropp'd nor sigh nor tear!
Vengeance, deep-brooding o'er the slain,   of external objects, however, is at all times
Had lock'd the source of softer woe;     equally inviting, and equally easy; and many
And burning pride, and high disdain,       of the pictures which have been left by the
Forbade the rising tear to flow;         ancient romancers must be admitted to posUntil, amid his sorrowing clan,            sess, along with great diffuseness and homeHer son lisp'd from the nurse's knee-    liness of diction, an exactness and vivacity'And, if I live to be a man,
My father's death reveng'd shall be!'   which cannot be easily exceeded.  In this
Thent fast the mother's tears did seek       part of his undertaking, Mr. Scott therefore
To dew the infant's kindling cheek."-pp.12-15. had fewer advantages; but we do not think
that his success has been less remarkable.
There aore not  many passagtes in Engiash  In the following description of Melrose, which
poetry more impressive than  some parts of introduces the second canto the reader will
this extract.  As another illustration of the  ntroduces the second canto  the reader will
prodigious improvement which the style of the observe how skilfully  to he calls in the ead
s *..timental associations to heighten the effee
old romance is capable of receiving from  a of th ctre which he presents to the eye:
more liberal admixture of pathetic sentiments
and gentle affections, we insert the following " If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright,
passage; where the effect of the picture is   Go visit it by the pale moonlight:
finely assisted by the contrast of its two com-   For the gay beams of lightsome day
Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray.
When the broken arches are black in night,
" So pass'd the day-the ev'ning fell,            And each shafted oriel glimmers white;'Twas near the time of curfew bell;            When the cold light's uncertain shower
The air was mild, the wind was calm,           Streams on the ruin'd central tower;
The stream was smooth, the dew was balm;       When buttress and buttress, alternately,,
Ev'n the rude watchman, on the tower,          Seem fram'd of ebon and ivory;
Enjoy'd and blessed the lovely hour.           When silver edges the imagery,




SCOTT'S LAY OF' THE LAST MINSTREL.                             365
tAnd the scrolls tkat teach thee to live and die;  The whole scene of the duel, or judicial
When distant Tweed is heard to rave,       combat, is conducted according to the strict
And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave; ordinances of chivalry and delineated with
Then go!-but go alone the while —
Then view St. David's ruined pile!        all the minuteness oI an ancient romancer.
And, home returning, soothly swear,        The modern reader will probably find it rather
Was never scene so sad and fair!" -pp. 35, 36.  tedious; all but the concluding stanzas, which
are in a loftier measure.
In the following passage he is less.ambitious; and confines himself, as an ancient "'Tis done,'tis done! that fatal blow
minstrel would have done on the occasion, to     Has stretch'd him on the bloody plain;
a minute and picturesque representation of   He strives to rise-Brave Musgrave, no!
the visible object before him:-                 Thence never shalt thou rise again!
se visible object before him: —               He chokes in blood-some friendly hand
"When for the lists they sought the plain,     Undo the visor's barred band,
Did noble Howard holdken rein              And give him room for life to gasp!Unarmed by her side he walk'd,               In vain, in vain-haste, holy friar,
And nmuch, in courteous phrase, they talk'd  Haste, ere the sinner shall expire!
Of feats of arms of old.                   Of all his guilt let him be shriven,
Costly his garb-his oFlemish ruf'            And smooth his path from earth to heaven!;
Fell o'er his doublet shap'd of buff,      "In haste the holy friar sped;
With satin slash'd, and lin'd;             His naked foot was dyed with red,
Tawny his boot, and gold his spur,             As through the lists he ran:
His cloak was all of Poland fur,             Unmindful of the shouts on high,
HIis hose with silver twin'd;              That hail'd the conqueror's victory,
His Bilboa blade, by Marchmen felt,            He rais'd the dying man;
Hung in a broad and studded belt;            Loose wav'd his silver beard and hair,
Hence, in rude phrase, the Bord'rers still   As o'er him he kneel'd down in prayer.
Call'd noble Howard, Belted Will."-p. 141.   And still the crucifix on high,
He holds before his dark'ning eye,
The same scrueuliwas' adherence to the style   And still he bends an anxious ear,
of the old romance, though greatly improved   His falt'ring penitence to hear;
in point of brevity and selection, is discernible  Still props him from the bloody sod
in the following animated description of the   Still, even when soul and body part,
feast, which terminates the poem: —           Pours ghostly comfort on his heart,
feast,  hichtermnatesthAnd bids him trust in God!
" The spousal rites were ended soon;           Unheard he prays;'tis o'er,'tis o'er!'Twas now the merry hour of noon,            Richard of Musgrave breathes no more.'
And in the lofty-arched hall                                              p. 145-147.
Was spread the gorgeous festival:
Steward and squire, with heedful haste,      We have already made so many extracts
Marshall'd the rank of every guest;        from this poem, that we can now only afford
Pages, with ready blade, were there,       to present our readers with one specimen of
The mighty meal to carve and share.        the songs which Mr. Scott has introduced in
O'er capon, aeron-shew, and crane,         the mouths of the minstrels in the concluding
And urincely peacock's gilded train,       canto. It is his object, in those pieces, to
And o'et ale ooar's head, garnish'd brave,
And cygnet from St. Mary's wave;           exemplify the different styles of ballad narraO'er ptarmigan and venison,                tive which prevailed in this island at different
The priest had spoke his benison.          periods, or in different conditions of society.
Then rose the riot and the din,            The first is constructed upon the rude and
Above, beneath, without, within!           simple model of the old Border ditties, and
For, from the lofty balcony,
For, from the lofty balcony     produces its effect by the direct and concise
Rung trumpet, shalm, and psaltery;         produces 
Their clanging bowls old warriors quaff'd,  narrative of a tragical occurrence. The se-.
Loudly they spoke, and loudly laugh'd;     cond, sung by Fitztraver, the bard of the acWhisper'd young knights, in tone more mild,    complished Surrey, has more of the richness
To ladies fair, and ladies smil'd.         and polish of the Italian poetry, and is very
The hooded hawks, high perch'd on beam,    beautifully
The clamour join'd with whistling scream,  that of   enser.  The third is intended to
And flapp'd their wings, and shook their bells, o   Spenser. Th e thid is m  tended to
In concert with the staghound's yells.     represent that wild style of composition which
Round go the flasks of ruddy wine,         prevailed among the bards of the northern
From Bourdeaux, Orleans, or the Rhine;     continent, somewhat softened and adorned
Their tasks the busy sewers ply,           by the minstrel's residence in the south. We
And all is mirth and revelry."-pp. 166, 167.  re     upon the whole, to either of the two
[ refez it, - upon the whole, to either of the two
The following picture is sufficiently antique rmer and shall give it entire to our readers
m its conception, though the execution is evi- who will probably be struck with the poetical
dently modemrn:-                             effect of the dramatic form into which it is
thrown, and of the indirect description by
" Ten of them were sheath'd in steel,       hich everything is most expressively told
With belted sword, and spur on heel:     which every thing is most                to
They quitted not their harness bright,   without one word of distinct narrative.
Neither by day, nor yet by night;          O listen, listen, ladies gay 
They lay down to rest                    No haughty feat of arms I tell;
With co'rslet laced,                   Soft is the note, and sad the lay,
Pillow'd on buckler cold and hard;           That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.
They carv'd at the meal
With gloves of steel,   [met barr'd."  " —Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew I
And they drank the red wine through the hel-  Ani, gentle Ladye, deign to stay!




366                                    POETRI.
Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,           to hear "c of the Gallant Chief of Otterburne,"2
Nor tempt the stormy frith to-day.       or " the Dark Knight of Liddisdale," and feel' The black'ning wave is edg'd with white;  the elevating power of great names, when
To inch* and rock the sea-mews fly;      we read of the tribes that mustered to the
The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite,   war, "beneath the crest of old Dunbar, and
Whose screams forbode that wreck is nigh.   Hepburn's mingled banners."  But we really'Last night the gifted seer did view        cannot so far sympathise with the local parA wet shroud roll'd round Ladye gay:     tialities of the author, as to feel any glow of
Then stay thee, fair, in Ravensheuch;      patriotism or ancient virtue in hearing of the
Why cross the gloomy frith to-day?"     Todrig or Johnston clans, or of Elliots, Arm-"'Tis not because Lord Lind'say's heir   strongs, and Tinlinns; still less can we relish
To-night at Roslin leads the ball,       the introduction of Black John of Athelstane
But that my Ladye-mother there             Whitslade the Hawk, Arthur-fire-the-braes, Red
Sits lonely in her castle hall.          Roland Forster, or any other of those wor"Tis not because the ring they ride,        thies who
And Lind'say at the ring rides well!
But that my sire the wine will chide,         " Sought the beeves that made their broth,
If'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle."-          In Scotland and in England both,"'O'er Roslin all that dreary night          into a poem which has any pretensions to
A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam;      seriousness or dignity. The ancient metrical'Twas broader than the watch-fire light,   rmae  itae admitted those homel
And brighter than the bright moonbeam.e will not
"' It glar'd on Roslin's castled rock,       enduthem: And Mr. Scottmust either'It redden'd all the copse-wood glen;    sacrifice his Border prejudices, or offend all'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,   his readers in the other parts of the empire.
There are many passages, as we have'Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud,      already insinuated, which have the general
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie;    character of bari.essuch is the minstrel's
Each Baron, for a sable shroud,
Sheath'd in his iron panoply.            account of his preceptor, and  Deloraine's
lamentation over the dead body of MusBothSeem'd all on fire within, altar's palegrave: But the goblin page is, in our opinion,
Both vaulted crypt and altar's pale;
Shone every pillar foliage-bound,          the capital deformity of the poem. We have
And glimmer'd all the dead-men's mail.   already said that the whole machinery is use" Blaz'd battlement and pinnet high,        less: but the magic studies of the lady, and
Blaz'd every rose-carv'd buttress fair —  the rifled tomb of Michael Scott, give occaSo still they blaze when faite is nigh     sion to so much admirable poetry, that we
The lordly line of high St. Clair!       can on no account consent to part with them.
i' There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold  The page, on the other hand, is a perpetual
Lie buried within that proud chapelle;   burden to the poet, and to the reader: it is
Each one the holy vault doth hold-         an undignified and improbable fiction, which
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle!     excites neither terror, admiration, nor aston" And each St. Clair was buried there,       ishment; but needlessly debases the strain of
With candle, with book, and with knell;  the whole work, and excites at once our inBut the Kelpy rung, and the Mermaid sung   credulity and contempt. He is not a "tricksy
The dirge of lovely Rosabelle!"-pp. 181-184. spirit," like Ariel, with whom the imaginaFrom  the various extracts we have now  tion is irresistibly enamoured; nor a tiny.given, our readers will be enabled to form a monarch, like Oberon, disposing of the destitolerably correct judgment of this poem; and nies of mortals: He rather appears to us to
if they are pleased with these portions of it be an awkward sort of a mongrel between
which have now been exhibited, we may Puck and Caliban; of a servile and brutal
venture to assure them  that they will not be nature; and limited in his powers to the indisappointed by the perusal of the whole. dulgence of petty malignity, and the infliction
The whole night-journey of Deloraine-the of despicable injuries. Besides this objection
opening of the wizard's tomb-the march of- to his character, his existence has no support
the English battle —and the parley before from any general or established superstition.
the walls of the castle, are all executed with  Fairies and devils, ghosts, angels, and witches,
the same spirit and poetical energy which are creatures with whom we are all familiar
we think is conspicuous in the specimens we and  who excite in all classes of mankind
have already extracted; and a great variety emotions with which we can easily be made
of short passages occur in every part of the to sympathise. But the story of Gilpin Hor.
poem, which'are still more strikin a    ri- ner can never have been believed o;ut of the
torious, though it is impoe            tach village where he is said to have made his
them, without injury, in the form of a quota- appearance; and has no claims upon the crelion. It is but fair to apprise the reader, on dulity of those who were not (riginally of his
the other hand, that he will meet with very acquaintance.  There is nothin  at all interheavy passages, and with a variety of details est orelegant  the scenes           h h
which are not likely to interest any one but a tie her-   and m reading those passages, we
Borderer or an antiquary. We like very well reaIlould not help suspecting that they did
not stand in the romance when the aged min*Isle.                    strel recited it to the royal Char'es and his




SCOTT'S LADY OF THE LAKE.                            t61
mighty earls, but were inserted afterwards to   We have called the negligence which could
suit the taste of the cottagers among whom  leave such lines as these in a poem of this
he begged his bread on the Border. We en- nature inexcusable; because it is perfectly
treat Mr. Scott to inquire into the grounds of evident, from the general strain of his comthis suspicion; and to take advantage of any position, that Mr. Scott has a very accurate
decent pretext he can lay hold of for purging ear for the harmony of versification, and that
"The Lay " of this ungraceful intruder. We he composes with a facility which must lighten
would also move for a Quo Warranto against the labour of correction. There are some
the spirits of the river and the mountain; for smallacults in the diction which might have
though they are come of a very high lineage,  eenas we corrected also: there is too much
we do not know what lawful business they alliteration; and he reduplicates his words too
could have at Branksome castle in the year often.  We have "never, never," several
1550.                                   times; besides t tis o'er, Itis o'er";- "in
Of the diction of this poem we have but vain, in vain-" -  tis done.'tis done;" and
little to say. From  the extracts we have several other echoes as ungraceful.
already given, our readers will perceive that   We will not be tempted to say any thing
the versification is in the hiahest der    it more of this poem. Although it does not
regular and capricious. The nature of the contain any great display of what is properly
work entitled Mr. Scott to some licence in this called invention it indicates perhaps as much
respect. and he often employs it with a very vigour and originality of poetical -eni
pleasing effect; but he has frequently ex- armance-w- nci has beemlately.ofered.to
ceeded its just limits, and presented us with  h-ubiic.  Te ocality of the subject is
such combinations of metre, as must put the like yl  o s-truct its popularity; and the auteeth of his readers. we think, into some thor, by confining himself in a great measure
jeopardy. He has, when he pleases, a very to the description of manners and personal
melodious and sonorous style of versification, adventures, has forfeited the attraction which
but often composes with inexcusable negli- might have been derived from the delineation
gence and rudeness. There is a great number of rural scenery. But he has manifested a
of lines in which the verse can only be made degree of genius which cannot be'overlooked
out by running the words together in a very and given indication of talents that seem well
unusual manner; and some appear to us to worthy of being enlisted in the service of the
have no pretension to the name of verses at epic muse.
all. What apology, for instance, will Mr.   The notes, which contain a great treasure of
Scott make for the last of these two lines?- Border history and antiquarian learning, are
"For when in studious mood he pac'd    too long, we think, for the general reader.
St. Kentigern's hall.".         The form of the publication is also too exor for these --            /      j.-  pensive; and we hope soon to see a smaller
"How the brave boy in future war,    edition, with an abridgement of the notes,
Should tame the unicorn', pride."  for the use of the mere lovers of poetry.
(tLag  st, 181. )
The Lady of the Lake: a Poem. By WALTER SCOTT. Second Edition. 8vo. pp. 434: 1810.
MR. SCOTT, though living in an age unusu- proof of extraordinary merit,-a far surer one,
ally prolific of original poetry, has manifestly we readily admit, than would be afforded by
outstripped all his competitors in the race of any praises of ours: and, therefore, though
popularity; and stands already upon a height we pretend to be privileged, in ordinary cases,
to which no other writer has attained in the to foretell the ultimate reception of all claims
memory of any one now alive. We doubt, on public admiration, our function may be
indeed, whether any Englishpoet ever had so thought to cease, where the event is already
many of his books sold, or so many of his so certain and conspicuous. As it is a sore
verses read and admired by such a multitude thing, however, to be deprived of our priviof persons in so short a time. We are credibly leges on so important an occasion, we hope to
informed that nearly thirty thousand copies be pardoned for insinuating, that, even in such
of "The Lay" have been already disposed a case, the office of the critic may not be al.
of in this country; and that the demand for together superfluous. Though the success of
Marmion, and the poem now before us, has the author be decisive, and even likely to be
been still more considerable, —a circulation permanent, it still may not be without its use
we believej altogether without example, in to point out, in consequence of what, and in
the case o? a bulky work, not addressed to spite of what, he has succeeded; nor alto.
the bigotry of the mere mob, either religious gether uninstructive to trace the precise limits
or political,.                           of the connection which, even in this dull
A popularity so universal is a pretty sure world, indisputably subsists between slccess




368                                   POETRY
ald desert, and to ascertain how far unex-   It is to be considered also, that though it be
ampled popularity does really imply unrival- the end of poetry to please, one of the parties
led talent.                                 whose pleasure, and whose notions of excelAs it is the object of poetry to give pleasure, lence, will always be primarily consulted ill
it would seem to be a pretty safe conclusion, its composition, is the poet himself: and as he
that that poetry must be the best which gives must necessarily be more cultivated than the.he greatest pleasure to the greatest number great body of his readers, the presumption is,
of persons. Yet we must pause a little, be- that he will always belong, comparatively
fore we give our assent to so plausible a pro- speaking, to the class of good judges, and en.
position. It would not be quite correct, we deavour, consequently, to produce that sort of
fear, to say that those are invariably the best excellence which is likely to meet with their
judges who are most easily pleased. The approbation. When authors, therefore, and
great multitude, even of the reading world, those of whose suffrages authors are most
must necessarily be uninstructed and inju- ambitious, thus conspire to fix upon the same
dicious; and will frequently be found, not standard of what is good in taste and compoonly to derive pleasure from what is worthless sition, it is easy to see how it should come to
in finer eyes, but to be quite insensible to bear this name in society, in preference to
those beauties which afford the most exquisite what might afford more pleasure to individuals
delight to more cultivated understandings. of less influence. Besides all this, it is obTrue pathos and sublimity will indeed charm  vious that it must be infinitely more difficult
every one: but, out of this lofty sphere we to produce any thing conformable to this exare pretty well convinced, that the poetry alted standard, than merely to fall in with the
which appears most perfect to a very refined current of popular taste. To attain the former
taste, will not often turn out to be very popular object, it is necessary, for the most part, te
poetry.                                     understand thoroughly all the feelings and
This, indeed, is saying nothing more, than associations that are modified or created by
that the+:ordifiary readers of poetry have not cultivation: —To accomplish the latter, it will
a very refined taste; and that they are often often be suffidient merely to have observed
insensible to many of its highest beauties, the course of familiar preferences. Success,
while they still more frequently mistake its however, is rare, in proportion as it is difficult;
imperfections for excellence. The fact, when and it is needless to say, what a vast addition
stated in this simple way, commonly excites rarity makes to value,-or how exactly our
neither opposition nor surprise: and yet, if it admiration at success is proportioned to out
be asked, why the taste of a few individuals, sense of the difficulty of the undertaking.,
who do not perceive beauty where many    Such seem to be the most general and imothers perceive it, should be exclusively dig- mediate causes of the apparent paradox, of
nified with the name of a good taste; or why reckoning that which pleases the greatest
poetry, which gives pleasure to a very great number as inferior to that which pleases the
number of readers, should be thought inferior few; and such the leading grounds for fixing
to thatwhich pleases a much smaller num- the standard of excellence, in a question of
ber,-the answer, perhaps, may not be quite mere feeling and gratification, by a different
so ready as might have been expected from  rule than that of the quantity of gratification
the alacrity of our assent to the first propo- produced. With regard to some of the fine
sition. That there is a good answer to be arts-for the distinction between popular and
given, however, we entertain no doubt: and if actual merit obtains in them all-there,are no
that which we are about to offer should not other reasons, perhaps, to be assigned; and,
appear very clear or satisfactory, we must in Music for example when we have said that
submit to have it thought, that the fault is not it is the authority of those who are best qualialtogether in the subject.                 fled by nature and study, and the difflicult,
In the first place, then, it should be remem- and rarity of the attainment, that entitles cerbered, that though the taste of very good tain exquisite performances to7rank higher
judges is necessarily the taste of a few, it is than others that give far more general delight,
implied, in their description, that they are per- we have probably said all that caf be said in
sons eminently qualified, by natural sensi- explanation of this mode of speaking and
bility, and long experience and reflection, to judging. In poetry, however, and in some
perceive all beauties that really exist, as well other departments, this familiar, though someas to settle the relative value and importance what extraordinary rule of estimation, is justi.
of all the different sorts of beauty;-they are fled by other considerations.
in that very state, in short, to which all who   As it is the cultivation of natural and perare in any degree capable of tasting those re- haps universal capacities, that produces that
fined pleasures would certainly arrive, if their refined taste which takes- away our pleasure
sensibility were increased, and their experi- in vulgar excellence, so, it is to be considered,
ence and reflection enlarged. It is difficult, that'there is an universal tendency to the protherefore, in following out the ordinary analo- pagation of such a taste; and that, in times
pies of language, to avoid considering them as tolerably favourable to human happiness,
m the right, and calling their taste the true there is a continual progress and improvement
and the just one; when it appears that it is in thisas it the other faculties of nations and
such as is uniformly produced by the cultiva` large assemblages of men. The number of
oin oL those faculties upon which all our per-E intelligent judges may therefore be regarded
eptiolis of taste so obviously depend.     as perpetually on the increase. The inner




SCOTT'S LADY OF THE LAKE.                             36
eircle, to which tCe poet delights chiefly to of unsuitable finery. There are otherfeaturea
pitch his voice, is perpetually enlarging; and, no doubt, that distinguish the idols of vulgar
looking to that great futurity to which his am- admiration from the beautiful exemplars of
bition is constantly directed, it may be found, pure taste; but this is so much the most charthat the most refined style of composition to acteristic and remarkable, that we know no
which he can attain, will be, at the last, the way in which we could so shortly describe the
most extensively and permanently popular. poetry that pleases the multitude, and disThis holds true, we think, with regard to all pleases the select few, as by saying that it
the productions of art that are open to the consisted of all the most known and most
inspection of any considerable part of the brilliant parts of the most celebrated authors,
community; but, with regard to poetry in -of a splendid and unmeaning accumulation
particular, there is one circumstance to be at- of those images and phrases which had long
tended to, that renders this conclusion pecu- charmed every reader in the works of their
liarly safe, and goes far indeed to reconcile original inventors.
the taste of the multitude with that of more   The justice of these remarks will probably
cultivated judges.                        be at once admitted by all who have attended
As it seems difficult to conceive that mere to the history and effects of what may be
cultivation should either absolutely create or called Poetical diction in general, or even of
utterly destroy any natural capacity of enjoy- such particular phrases and epithets as have
ment, it is not easy to suppose, that the qual- been indebted to their beauty for too great a
ities which delight the uninstructed should notoriety. Our associations with all this class
be substantially different from those which of expressions, which have become trite only
give pleasure to the enlightenecd  They may in consequence of their intrinsic excellence
be arranged according to a different scale — now  suggest to us no ideas but those of
and certain shades and accompaniments may schoolboy imbecility and childish affectation.
be more or less indispensable; but the quali- We look upon them merely as the common,
ties in a poem that give most pleasure to the hired, and tawdry trappings of all who wish
refined and fastidious critic, are in substance, to put on, for the hour, the masquerade habit
we believe, the very same that delight the of poetry; and, instead of receiving from them
most injudicious of its admirers: —and the any kind of delight or emotion, do not even
very wide difference which exists between distinguish or attend to the signification of
their usual estimates, may be in a great de- the words of which they consist. The ear is
gree accounted for, by considering, that the so palled with their repetition, and so accusone judges absolutely, and the other relatively tomed to meet with them as the habitual ex-that the one attends only to the intrinsic pletives of the lowest class of versifiers. that
qualities of the work, while the other refers, they come at last to pass over it without exmore immediately to the merit of the author. citing any sort of conception whatever, and
The most popular passages in popular poetry, are not even so much attended to as to expose
are in fact, for the most part, very beautiful their most gross incoherence or inconsistency
and striking; yet they are very often such to detection. It is of this quality that Swift
passages as could never be ventured on by has availed himself in so remarkable a manany writer who, aimed at the praise of the ner in his famous "'Song by a person of
judicious; and this, for the obvious reason, quality," which consists entirely in a selection
that they are trite and hackneyed,-that they of some of the most trite and well-sounding
have been repeated till they have lost all phrases and epithets in the poetical lexicon
grace and propriety, —and, instead of exalting of the time, strung together without any kind
the imagination by the impression of original of meaning or consistency, and yet so disgenius or creative fancy, only nauseate and posed, as to have been perused, perhaps by
offend, by the association of paltry plagiarism  one half of their readers, without any suspiand impudent inanity. It is only, however, cion of the deception. Most of those phrases,
on those who have read and remembered the however, which had thus become sickening,
original passages, and their better imitations -and almost insignificant, to the intelligent
that this effect is produced. To the ignorant readers of poetry in the days of Queen Anne,
and the careless. the twentieth imitation has are in themselves beautiful and expressive,
all the charm of an original; and that which and, no doubt, retain much of their native
oppresses the more experienced reader with grace in those ears that have not been alienweariness and disgust, rouses them with all ated by their repetition.
the force and vivacity of novelty. It is not   But it is not merely from the use of m'-1then, because the ornaments of popular poetry excellent diction, that a modern poet
are deficient in intrinsic worth and beauty, debarred by the lavishness of his pv
that they are slighted by the critical reade, There is a certain range of sub:
but because he at once recogaises them to be acters, and a certain manner -
stolen, and perceives that they are arranged were probably, in their origi
without taste or congruity  In his indignation attractive) which have beer
at the dishonesty, and,his contempt for the same dread of imitation.
poverty of the collector, he overlooks alto- long to enter, in this pla
gether the value of what he has collected; or examination of the pecu
remembers it only as'On aggravation of his chiefly in this source-wu
offence,-as converting larceny into sacrilege, cient from modern poetry
and adding the guilt of Plrofanation to the folly just to remark, that, as t;
24




370                                  POETRY.
ical emotion are necessarily limited, so it was tion, should revolt rmore by their affectation
natural for those who first sought to excite it, than they attlact by their originality, is just
to avail themselves of those subjects, situa. and natural; but even the nobler devices that
tions, and images, that were most obviously win the suffrages of the judicious by their Incalculated to produce that effect; and to assist trinsic beauty, as well as their novelty, are
them by the use of all those aggravating cir- apt to repel the multitude and to obstruct
cumstances that most readily occurred as the popularity of some of the most exquisite
likely to heighten their operation. In this productions of genius. The beautifill but miway, they may be said to have got possession nute delineations of such admirable observers
of all the choice materials of their art; and, as Crabbe or Cowper, are apt to appear tedious
working without.fear of comparisons, fell to those who take little interest in their. subnaturally into a free and graceful style of jects, and have no concern about their art;execution, at the same time that the profusion and the refined, deep, and sustained pathetic
of their resources made them somewhat care- of Campbell, is still moreaapt to be mistaken
less and inexpert in their application. After- for monotony and languor by those who are
poets were in avery different situation. They either devoid of sensibility, or impatient of
could-neither take the most natural and gene- quiet reflection. Trhe most popular style unral topics of interest, nor treat them with the doubtedly is that which has great variety and
ease and indifference of those who had the brilliancy, rather than e quisite finish in its
whole store at their command-because this images and descriptions -Jand which touches
was precisely what had been already done by lightly on many passions, without raising any
those who had gone before them: And they so high as to transcend the comprehension of
were therefore put upon various expedients ordinary mortals-or dwelling on it so long as
for attaining their object, and yet preserving to exhaust their patience.
their claim to originality. Some of them ac-   Whether Mr. Scott holds the same opinion
cordingly set themselves to observe and de- with us upon these matters, and has intentionlineate both characters and external objects ally conformed his practice to this theory,-or
with greater minuteness and fidelity,-and whether the peculiarities in his compositions
others to analyse more carefully the mingling have been produced merely by following out
passions of the heart, and to feed and cherish the natural bent of his genius, we do not prea more limited trail of Emotion, through a sume to determine: But, that he has actually
longer and more artful succession of incidents, made use of all our recipes for popularity, we
— while a third sort distorted both nature and think very evident; and conceive, that few
passion, according to some fantastical theory, things are more curious than the singular skill
of their own; or took such a narrow corner or good fortune, with which he has reconciled
of each, and dissected it with such crious his claims on the favour of the multitude, with
and microscopic accuracy, that its orginal his pretensions to more select admiration.
form was no longer discernible by the eyes Confident in the force and originality of his
of the uninstructed. In this way we think own genius, he has not been afraid to avail
that modern poetry has both been enrichedt himself of common-places both Bf diction and
with more exquisite pictures, and deeper and o'f sentiment, whenever they appeared to be
more sustained strains of pathetic, than were beautiful or impressive,-using them, howknown to the less elaborate artists of antiquity; ever, at all times, with the skill and spirit of
at the same time that it has been defaced an inventor; and, quite certain that he could
with more affectation, and loaded with far not be mistaken for a plagiarist or imitator, he
more intricacy. But whether they failed or has made free use of that great treasury of
OScceeded,-and whether they distinguished characters, images, and expressions, which
themselves from their predecessors by faults had been accumulated by the most celebrated
or by excellences, the later poets, we conceive, of his predecessors, —at the same time that
must be admitted to have almost always the rapidity of his transitions, the novelty-of
written in a more constrained and narrow  his combinations, and the spirit and variety
manner than their originals, and to have de- of his own thoughts and inventions, show
parted farther from what was obvious, easy, plainly that he was a borrower from any thing
and natural. Modern poetry, in this respect, but poverty, and took only what he,would
may be compared, perhaps without any great have given, if he had been born in an earlier
impropriety, to modern sculpture. It is greatly generation. The great secr~ of his popuinferior to the ancient in freedom. grace, and larity, however, and the lJarlig characteristic';city; but, in return, it frequently pos- 6f his poetry, appear to us to consist evidently
mnore decided expression, and more  in this, that he has made more use of common
of less suitable embellishments.  topics, image% and expl'essions, than any orig-'ty be gained or lost, however,'inal poet of biter times; and at the same
f manner, it is obvious, that time, displayed' 4,ore genius and originality
-ne less popular by means than any recent author who has worked in
natural and obvious man- the samemnaterials. " By the latter peculiarity
most taking; —and what- he has entitled himsblf to the admiation of, much pains and labour, every description of readers;-by the former,
~require a corresponding he is recommended in an especial manner to
the reader,-which all the inexperienced —at the hazard of some little
sed to make. That they offence to the more cultivated and fastidious.
nal by means of affecta-   In the choice of his subjects, for example,




SCOTT'S LADY OF THE LAKE.                            371,nc does not attempt to interest merely by fine lads and anecdotes, arid the sentimental glitter.bhservation or pathetic sentiment, but takes of the most modern poetry,-passing from
tie assistance of a story, and enlists the read- the borders of the ludicrous to those of the
er's curiosity among his motives for attention. sublime —alternately minute and energeticThen his characters are all selected from the sometimes artificial, and frequently negligent
most common dramatis persone of poetry;- -but always full of spirit and vivacity, —
kings, warriors. knights, outlaws, nuns, min- abounding in images that are striking, at first
strels, secluded damsels, wizards, and true sight, to minds of every contexture-and
lovers. He never ventures to carry us into never expressing a sentiment which it can
the cottage of the modern peasant, like Crabbe cost the most ordinary reader any exertion to
or Cowper; nor into the bosom of domestic comprehend.
privacy, like Campbell; nor among creatures   Such seem to be the leading qualities that
of the imagination, like Southey or Darwin. have contributed to Mr. Scott's popularity;
Such personages, we readily admit, are not in and as some of them are obviously of a kind
themselves so interesting or striking as those to diminish his merit in the eyes of more
to whom Mr. Scott has devoted himself; but fastidious judges, it is but fair to complete
they are far less familiar in poetry-and are this view of his peculiarities by a hasty no.
therefore more likely, perhaps, to engage the tice of such of them as entitle him to unqualiattention of those to whom poetry is familiar. fled admiration;-and here it is impossible
In the managerpent of the passions, again, Mr. not to be struck with that vivifying spirit of
Scott appears ao us to have pursued the sami strength and animation which pervades all
popular, and comparatively easy course. He the inequalities of his composition, and keeps
has raised all the most familiar and poetical constantly on the mind of the reader the imemotions, by the most obvious aggravations, pression of great power, spirit and intrepidity,
and in the most compendious and judicious There is nothing cold, creeping, or feeble, in
ways. He has dazzled the reader with the all Mr. Scott's poetry;-no laborious littleness,
splendour, and even warmed him with the or puling classical affectation. He has his failtransient heat of various affections; but he ures, indeed, like other people; but he always
has nowhere fairly kindled him with enthu- attempts vigorously: And never fails in his imsiasm, or melted him into tenderness. Writ- mediate object, without accomplishing someing for the world at large, he has wisely ab- thing far beyond the reach of an ordinary
stained from attempting to raise any passion writer. Even when he wanders from the
to a height to which worldly people could not paths of pure taste, he leaves behind him the
be transported; and contented hiiself with footsteps of a powerful genius; and moulds
giving his reader the chance of feeling, as a the most humble of his materials into a form
brave, kind, and affectionate gentleman must worthy of a nobler substance. Allied to this
often feel in the ordinary course of his exist- inherent vigour and animation, and in a'great
ence, without trying to breathe into him either degree derived from it, is that air of facility
that lofty enthusiasm which disdains the or- and freedom which adds so peculiar a grace
dinary business and amusements of life, or to most of Mr. Scott's compositions. There
that quiet and deep sensibility which unfit s certainly no living poet whose works seem,'for most of its pursuits. With regard to dic- o come from him with so much ease]or who
tion and imagery, too, it is quite obvious that so seldom appears to labour, even in the most
Mr. Scott has not aimed at writing either in a burdensome parts of his performance. He
very pure or a very consistent'style.  He seems, indeed, never to think either of himseems to have been anxious only to strike, self or his reader, but to be completely identiand to be easily and universally understood  fled and lost in the personages with whom he
and, for this purpose, to have culled the most is oq.ied; and the attention of the reader
glittering and conspicuous expressions of the is consequently either transferred, unbroken,
most popular authors,-and to have interwoven to their adventures, or, if it glance back for a
them in splendid confusion with his own ner.moment to the author, it is only to think how
vous diction and irregular versification. In- much more might be done, by putting forth
different whether he coins or borrows, and that strength at full, which has, without efdrawing with equal freedom on his memory fort, accomplished so many wonders. It is
and his imagination, he goes boldly forward. owing partly to these qualities, and partly to
full reliance on a never-failing abundance; the great variety of his style, that Mr. Scott.
and dazzles, with his richness and variety  is much less frequently tedious than any other
even those who are most apt to be offendedJ bulky poet with whom we are acquainted.
with his glare and irregularity. There is His store of images is so copious, that he
nothing, in Mr. Scott, of the severe and ma- never dwells upon one long enough to pro-.
jestic style of Milton-or of the terse and duce weariness in the reader; and, even
fine composition of Pope-or of the elaborate where he deals in borrowed or irit tawdry
elegance and melody of Campbell-or even wares, the rapidity of his transitio:n' and the
of the flowing and redundant diction of transient glance with which he is satisfied as
Southey.-But there is a medley of bright to each, leave the critic no time to be offendimages and glowing words, set carelessly and ed, and hurry him forward, along with the,oosely together —a diction, tinged successive- multitude, enchanted with the brilliancy of
ly with the careless richness of Shakespeare  the exhibition. Thus, the very frequency of
Je harshness and antique simplicity of th  his deviations from pure taste, comes, in some
Dld romances, the Lomeliness of vulgar bM1- sort, to constitute their apology; and the pro.




712                                  POETRY.
fusion and variety of his faults to afford a new publications. We are more sure nowever,
proof of his genius.                      that it has fewer faults, than that it has greater
These, we think, are the general character- beauties; and as its beauties bear a strong
istics of Mr. Scott's poetry. Among his minor resemblance to those with which the public
peculiarities, we might notice his singular has already been made familiar in those qele'
"talent for description, and especially for the- brated works, we should not be surprised if
description of scenes abounding in motion or its popularity were less splendid and remark(action of any kind. In this department, in- able. For our own parts, however, we are of
deed, we conceive him to be almost without opinion, that it will be oftener read hereafter
a rival, either among modern or ancient poets; than either of them; and, that, if it had apand the character and process of his descrip- peared first in the series, their reception would
tions are as extraordinary as their effect is have been less favourable than that which it
astonishing. He places before the eyes of has experienced. It is more polished in its
his readers a more distinct and complete pic- diction, and more regular in its versificatiofi;
ture, perhaps, than any other artist ever pre- the story is constructed with infinitely morp
sentel by mere words; and yet he does not skill and address; there is a greater propor(like Crabbe) enumerate all the visible parts tion of pleasing and tender passages, with
of the subjects with any degree of minute- much less antiquarian detail; and, upon the
ness, nor confine himself, by any means, to whole, a larger variety of characters, more
what is visible. The singular merit of his uartfully and judiciously contrasted. There is
delineations, on the contrary, consists in this, nothing so fine, perhaps, as the battle in Mar,
that, with a few bold and abrupt strokes, he- mion-or so picturesque as some of the scatfinishes a most spirited outline,-and then in- tered sketches in the Lay; but there is a
stantly kindles it by the sudden light and co- richness and a spirit in the whole piece, which
lour of some moral affection. There are none, does not pervade either of these poems —a
of his fine descriptions, accordingly, which do profusion of incident, and a shifting brilliancy
not derive a great part of their clearness and of colouring, that reminds us of the witchery
picturesque effect, as well as their interest, of Ariosto-and a constant elasticity, and ocfrom the quantity of character and moral ex- casional energy, which seem to belong more
pression which is thus blended with their de- peculiarly to the author now before us.
tails, and which, so far from interrupting the   It may appear superfluous, perhaps, for us
conception of the external object, very power- to present our readers with any analysis of a
fully stimulate the fancy of the reader to work, which is probably, by this time, in the
complete it; and give a grace and a spirit to hands of asmany persons as are likely to see
the whole representation, of which we do not our account of it. As these, however, may
know where to look for any other example. - not be the same persons, and as. without
Another very striking peculiarity in Mr. making some such abstract, we could not.
Scott's poetry, is the air of freedom and na- easily render the few remarks we have to
ture which he has contrived to impart to most offer intelligible, we shall take the liberty of
of his distinguished characters; and with beginning with a short summary of the fable.
which no poet more riodern than Shakespeare   The first canto, which is entitled The Chase,
has ventired to represent personages of such begins with a pretty long description of a stagdignity. We do not allude here merely to the hunt in the Highlands of Perthshire. As the
genuine familiarity and homeliness of many chase lengthens, the sportsmen drop off; till
of his scenes and dialogues, but to that air of  t last the foremost huntsman is left alone;
gaiety and playfulness in which persons of and his horseijovercorte with -fatigue, stumhigh rank seem, from time immemorial, to bles, and dies in a rocky valley. The adhave thought it necessary to array, not their venturer pursues a itle-wild -path, through a
courtesy only, but their generosity and their deep ravine; and at last, climbing up a craggy
hostility   This tone of good society, Mr. eminence, discovers, by the light of the evenSeott has shed overhis highercharacters with jng sun, Loch Katrine, with all its woody
great grace and effect; and has, in this way, islands and rocky shores, spread out in glory
not only made his representations much more before him. After gazing with admiration on
faithful and true to nature, but has very agree- this beautiful scene, which is described with
ably relieved the monotony of that tragic so- greater spirit than accuracy, the huntsman
lemxity which ordinary writers appearto think- winds his horn, in the hope of being heard
indispensable to the dignity of poetical heroes by some of his- attendants; and sees, to his
and heroines. We are not sure, however  infinite surprise, a little skiff, guided by a
whether he has not occasionally exceeded a lovely woman, glide from beneath the trees
little iipthe use of this ornament; and given, that overhang the water,' and approach the
now and then, too coquettish and trifling a tone shore at his feet. The lady calls to her father;
to discussions of weight and moment.      and, upon the stranger's approach, pushes her
Mr. Scott has many other characteristic ex- shallop from the shore in alarm.' After holdcellences:-But Eve have already detained ing a short parley with him,'however, from
our readers too long with this imperfect sketch the water. she takes him into the boat, and
of his poetical character, and must proceed, carries him to a woody island; where she
without further delay to give them some ac- leads him into a sort of sylvan mansion, rudecount of the work which is now before us. lyeconstructed of trunks of trees) moss, and
Of this upon tke whole, we are inclined to ['thatch, and hung round, within, with trophies
hAnk more highly than of eitherof his former of war, and of the chase. An elderly lady is




SCOTT'S LADY OF-'THE LAKE.                          378
introduced at supper; and the stranger, after mainland:-And, with the description of thls
disclosing himself to be "James Fitz-James, feat, the second canto concludes.
the knight of Snowdoun," tries in vain to dis-   The third canto, which is entitled "The
cover the name and history of the ladies, Gathering," opens with a long and rather
whose manners discover them to be of high tedious account of the ceremonies employed
rank and quality. He then retires to sleep, by Sir Roderick, in preparing for the sumand is disturbed with distressful visions- moning or gathering of his clan. This is acrises and tranquillises himself, by looking out complished by the consecration of a small
on the lovely moonlight landscape-says his wooden cross, which,,with its points scorched
prayers, and sleeps till the heathcock crows and dipped in blood, is circulated with inon the mountains behind him:-And thus credible celerity through the whole territory
closes the first canto.                  of the chieftain. The eager fidelity with
The second opens with a fine picture of the which this fatal signal is hurried on and
aged harper, Allan-bane, sitting on the island obeyed, is represented with great spirit and
beach with the damsel, watching the skiff felicity. A youth starts from the side of his
which carries the strangerback again to land. father's coffin, to bear it forward; and having
The minstrel sings a sweet song; and a con- run his stage, delivers it into the hands of a
versation ensues, from which the reader gath- young bridegroom  returning from  church;
ers, that the lady is a daughter of the house who instantly binds his plaid around him,
of Douglas, and that her father, having been and rushes onward from his bride. In the
exiled by royal displeasure from the court, mean time, Douglas and his daughter had
had been fain to accept of this asylum frmn taken refuge in the mountain cave; and Sir
Sir Roderick Dhu, a Highland chieftain, who Roderick, passing near their retreat in his
had long been outlaweid for deeds of blood,  ay to the muster, hears Ellen's voice singbut still maintained his feudal sovereignty in   g her evening hymn to the Virgin. He does
the fastnesses of his native mountains. It not obtrude on her devotions, but hurries to
appears also, thaT this dark chief is in love the place of rendezvous, where his clan rewith his fair protegee; but that her affections ceive him with a slout of acclamation and
are engaged to Malcolm Graeme, a younger then couch on the bare heath for the night.-.
and more amiable mountaineer, the companion This terminates the third canto.
and guide of her father in his hunting excur-   The fourth begins with more incantations.
sions. As they are engaged in this discourse, Some absurd and disgusting ceremonies are
the sound of distant music is heard on the gone through, by a wild hermit of the clan,
lake; and the barges of Sir Roderick are dis- with a view to ascertain the issue of the im.
covered, proceeding in triumph to the island. pending war;-and this oracular response is
Her mother calls Ellen to go down with her obtained  "that the party shall prevail which
to receive him; but she, hearing her father's first sheds the blood of its adversary."  We
horn at that instant on the opposite shore, are then introduced to the minstrel and Ellen,
flies to meet him and Malcolm Grame, who whom he strives to comfort for the alarming
is received with cold and stately civility by disappearance of her father, by singing a long
the lord of the isle, After some time, Sir fairy ballad to her; and just as the song is
Roderick informs the Douglas, that his retreat ended, the knight of Snowdoun again appears
has been discovered by the royal spies, and before her, declares his love, and urges her
that he has great reason to believe that the to put herself under his protection.. Ellen,
King (James V.), who, under pretence of hunt- alarmed, throws herself on his generositying, had assembled a large force in the neigh- confesses her attachment to Greme-and
bourhood, was bent upon their destruction. with difficulty prevails on him to seek his
He then proposes, somewhat impetuously, own safety by a speedy retreat from those
that they should unite their fortunes indis- dangerous confines. The gallant stranger at
solubly by his marriage with Ellen, ahd rouse last complies; but, before he goes, presents
the whole Western Highlands to repress the her with a ring, which he says he had reinvasion. The Douglas, with many expres- ceived from the hand of King James, with a
sions of gratitude, declines both the war and promise to grant any boon that should be
the alliance; and, intimating that his daughter asked by the person producing it. As he is
has repugnances which she cannot overcome, pursuing his way through the wild, his susand that he, though ungratefully used by his picions are excited by the conduct of his
sovereign, will never lift his arm against him, guide, and confirmed by the musical warndeclares that he will retire to a cave in the ings of A mad woman, who sings to him about
neighbouring mountains, till the issue of the the toils that are set, and the knives that are
threat is seen. The strong heart of Roderick whetted against him. He then threatens his
is wrung with agony at this rejection; and, false guide, who discharges an arrow at him,
when Malcolip advances to offer his services, which kills the maniac. The knight slays the
as Ellen rises to retire, he pushes him violent- murderer; and learning from the expiring
ly back-and a scuffle ensues, of no very dig- victim that her brain had been turned by the
nified character, which is with difficulty ap- cruelty of Sir Roderick, he vows vengeance
peased by the giant arm of Douglas. Malcolm  on his head; and proceeds with grief and apthen withdraws in proud resentment; and, prehension along his dangerous way. When
refusing to be indebted to the surly chief chilled with the midnight cold, and exhausted
evei for the use of his boat, plunges into the with (want and fatigue, he suddenly comes
water and swims over by moonlight to the upon'a chief reposing by a lonely watch-fire;




374                                 POETRY.
and, though challenged in the name of Rod- vent the combat, by announcing that both
erick Dhu, boldly avows himself his enemy. Sir Roderick and Lord Douglas are in the
The clansman, however, disdains to take ad- hands of their sovereign.
vantage of a worn-out wanderer; and pledges   The sixth and last canto, entitled "The
himself to escort him safe out of Sir Roderick's Guard Room," opens with a very animated
territory; after which, he tells him he must description of the motley mercenaries that
answer with his sword for the defiance he formed the royal guard, as they appeared at
had uttered against the chieftain. The stran- early dawn, after a night of stern debauch.
ger accepts his courtesy upon those chivalrous While they are.quarrelfing and singing, the
terms; and the warriors sup, and sleep to- sentinels introduce an old minstrel and a
gether on the plaid of the mountaineer.  veiled maiden, who had been forwarded by
They rouse themselves by dawn, at the Mar to the royal presence; and Ellen, discloseopening of the fifth canto, entitled " The ing her countenance, awes the ruffian soldiery,
Combat," and proceed towards the Lowland into respect and pity, by her grace and liberfrontier; the Highland warrior seeking, by ality. She is then conducted to a more seemly
the way, at once to vindicate the character waiting-place, till the King should be visible;
of Sir:Roderick, and to justify the. predatory and Allan-bane, asking to be taken to the
habits of his clan.  Fitz-James expresses prison of his captive lord, is led, by mistake, to
freely his detestation of both; and the dis- the sick chamber of Roderick Dhu, who is
pute growing warm, he says, that never lover dying of his wounds in a gloomy apartment of
longed so to see the lady of his heart, as he the castle. The high-souled chieftain inquires
to see before him this murderous chief and eagerly after the fortunes of his clan, the
his myrmidons.  " Have then thy wish!" Douglas, and Ellen; and, when he learns that
answers his guide; and giving a loud whistl  a battle has been fought with a doubtful suca whole legion of armed men start up    cess, entreats the minstrel to sooth his parting
once from  their mountain ambush in the spirit with a description of it, and with the
heath; while the chief turns proudly, and victor song of his clan.'Allan-bane comsays, those are the warriors of Clan-Alpine- plies; and the battle is told in very animated
and "I am Roderick Dhu! — The Lowland and irregular verse.  When the vehement
knight, though startled, repeats his defiance;. strain is closed, Roderick is found cold; and
and Sir Roderick, respecting his valour, by a Allan mourns him in a pathetic lament.  In
signal dismisses' his men to their conceal- the mean time, Ellen hears the voice of
ment, and assures him anew of his safety Malcolm Greme lamenting his captivity from
till they pass his frontier. Arrived on this an adjoining turret of the palace; and, before
equal ground, the chief now demands satis- she has recovered from her agitation, is startfaction; and forces the knight, who tries all led by the appearance of Fitz-James, who
honourable means of avoiding the combat comes to inform her that the court is assemwith so generous an adversary, to stand upon bled,. and the King at leisure to receive her
his defence. Roderick, after a tough combat, suit. He conducts her trembling steps to the
is laid wounded on the ground; and Fitz- hall of presence, round which Ellen casts a
James, sounding- his bugle, brings four squires timid and eager glance for the monarch;. But
to his side; and after giving the wounded all the glittering figures are uncovered, and
chief into their charge, gallops rapidly on James Fitz-James alone;wears his cap and'towards Stirling. Ashe ascends the hill to the plume in the brilliant assembly! The truth
castle, he descries the giant form of Douglas immediately rushes on her imagination:approaching to the same place; and the The knight of Snowdoun is the King of Scotreader is then told, that this generous lord land! and, struck with awe and terror, she
had taken the resolution of delivering him- falls speechless at his feet, clasping her hands,
self up voluntarily, with a view to save Mal- and pointing to the ring in breathless agitacolm  Grame, and if possible Sir Roderick tion. The prince raises her with eager kindalso, from  the impending danger.  As he ness-declares aloud that her father is fordraws near to the castle, he sees the King given, and restored to favour-and bids her
and his train descending to grace the holyday ask a boon for some other person. The name
sports of the commonalty, and resolves to of Grame trembles on her lips; but she
mingle in them, and present himself to the cannot trust herself to utter it, and begs the
eye of his alienated sovereign as victor in grace of Roderick Dhu. The king answers
those humbler contentions.  He wins the that he would give his best earldom to restore
prize accordingly, in archery, wrestling, and him to life, and presses her to name some
pitching the bar; and receives his reward other boon. She blushes, and hesitates; and
from the hand of the prince; who does not the king, in playful vengeance, condemns
condescend to recognise his former favourite Malcolm Greme to fetters-takes a chain of
by one glance of affection.  Roused at last gold from his own neck, and throwing it ovel
by an insult from one of the royal grooms, he that of the young chief, puts the clasp into
proclaims himself aloud; is ordered into cus- the hand of Ellen!
tody by the King, and represses a tumult of   Such is the brief and naked outline of
the populace which is excited for his rescue. the story, which Mr. Scott has embellished
At this instant, a messenger arrives with with such exquisite imagery, and enlarged
tidings of an approaching battle between the by so many characteristic incidents, as to
clan of Roderick and the King's lieutenant, have rendered it one of the most attractive
the Earl of Mar, and is ordered back to pre- poems in the language.  That the story




SCOTT'S LADY OF THE LAKE.                            1a7
upon the whole, is well digested and happily the same sovereign -the same manners-the
carried on, is evident from the hold it keeps same ranks of society —the same tone, both
of the reader's attention through every part for courtesy and for defiance. Loch Katrine,
of its progress. It has the fault, indeed, of indeed, is more picturesque than St. Mary's
all stories that turn upon an anagn  or Loch: and Roderick Dhu and his clan have
recognition, that the curiosity whic   ex- some features of novelty: —But the Douglas
cited during the first readingsis extinguished and the King are the leading personages; and
for ever when we arrive at the discovery. the whole interest of the story turns upon perThis, however, is an objection which may be sons and events having precisely the same
made in some degree, to almost every story character and general aspect with those which
of interest; and we must say for Mr. Scott, gave their peculiar colour to the former poems.
that his secret is very discreetly kept, and It is honourable to Mr. Scott's genius, no
most felicitously revealed.  If we were to doubt, that he has been able to interest the
scrutinize the fable with malicious severity, public so deeply with this third presentment
we might also remark, that Malcolm Greme of the same chivalrous scenes: but we cannot
has too insignificant a part assigned him, con- help thinking, that both his glory and our gratisidering the favour in which he is held both fication would have been greater, if he had
by Ellen and-the author; and that, in bring- changed his hand more completely, and acing out the shaded and imperfect character tually given us a true Celtic story, with all its
of Roderick Dhu, as a contrast to the purer drapery and accompaniments in a correspondvirtue of his rival, Mr. Scott seems to have ing style of decoration.
fallen into the common error, of making him    Such a subject, we are persuaded, has very
more interesting than him whose virtues he great capabilities, and only wants to be inwas intended to set off, and converted the troduced to public notice by such a hand as
villain % the piece in some measure into it  Mr. Scott's, to make a still more powerful imhero. A M*odern poet, however, may perhaps pression than he has already effected by the
be pardoned for an,error, of which Milton resurrection of the tales of romance. There
himself is thou  gt to have kept clear; are few persons. we believe, of any degree of
and for which th    ms so natural a cause, poetical susceptibility, who have wandered
in the difference b~en poetical and amia- among the secluded valleys of the Highlands,
ble characters. There are several improba- and contemplated the singular people by
bilities, too, in the story, which might disturb whom they are still tenanted-with their love
a scrupulous reader. Allowing that the king of music and of song-their hardy and irreguof Scotland might have twice disappeared for lar life, so unlike the unvarying toils of the
several days, without exciting any disturb- Saxon mechanic-their devotion to their chiefs
ance or alarm inhis court, it is certainly rather -their wild and lofty traditions-their naextraordinary, that neither the Lady Margaret, tional enthusiasm-the melancholy grandeur
nor old Allan-bane, nor'any of the attendants of the scenes they inhabit-and the multiat the isle, should have recognised his person; plied superstitions which still linger among
and almost as wonderful, that he should have them, —without feeling, that there is no existfound any difficulty in discovering the family ing people so well adapted for the purposes
of his entertainers. There is something rather of poetry, or so capable of furnishing the ocawkward, too, in the sort of blunder or mis- casions of new and striking inventions.* The
understanding (for it is no more) which gives great and continued popularity of "Macpheroccasion to Sir Roderick's Gathering and all son's Ossian (though discredited as a memorial
its consequences; nor can any machinery be of antiquity, at least as much as is warranted
conceived more clumsy for effecting the de- by any evidence yet before the public), proves
liverance of a distressed hero, than the intro- how very fascinating a fabric might be raised
troduction of a mad woman, who, without upon that foundation by a more powerful or
knowing or caring about the wanderer, warns judicious hand. That celebrated translation,,him, by a song, to take care of the ambush though defaced with the most childish and
that was set for him. The Maniacs of poetry offensive affectations, still charms with occahave indeed had a prescriptive right to be sional gleams of a tenderness beyond all other
musical, since the days of Ophelia down- tenderness, and a sublimity of a new characwards; but it is rather a rash extension of this ter of dreariness and elevation; and, though
privilege, to make them sing good sense. and patched with pieces of the most barefaced plato make sensible people be guided by them.  giarism, still maintains a tone of originality
Before taking leave of the fable, we must which has recommended it in every nation of
be permitted to express our disappointment the civilised world. The cultivated literati
and regret at finding the general cast of the of England, indeed, are strucek with thie affeccharacters and incidents so much akin to those tation and the plagiarism, and renounce the
of Mr. Scott's former publications. When we whole work as tawdry and factitious; but the
heard that the author of the Lay and of Mar- multitude at home, and almost all classes of
mion was employed upon a Highland story, readers abroad, to whom those defects are
we certainly expected to be introduced to a less perceptible, still continue to admire; and
new creation; and to bid farewell, for awhile,
to the knights, squires, courtiers, and chivalry  The Tartan fever excited in the South (and not'of the'low countrys:-But here they are all yet eradicated) by the Highland scenes and charac.
ters of Waverly, seems fully to justify this sugges..
upon -us again, in their old characters, and tion; and makes it rather surprising that no other
nearly in their old costume. The same age- great writer has since repeated the experiment.




876                                    POETRY.
few of our classical poets have so sure and      Ere peal of closing battle rose,
regular a sale, both in our own and in other      With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows;
languages, as the singular collection to which   And mimic din of stroke and ward,
As broad-sword upon target jarr'd;
we have just alluded.  A great part of its       As broad-swo rd upon target jarr'd;
charm, we think, consists in the novelty of        dlens'd, the battle yell'd amain;
its Celtic characters and scenery, and their      ~rapid charge, the rallying shout,
singular aptitude for poetic combinations; and   Retreat borne headlong into rout,
therefore it is that we are persuaded, that if   And bursts of triumph to declare
Mr. Scott's powerful and creative genius were    Clan-Alpine's conquest-all were there!
Nor ended thus the strain; but slow,
to be turned in good earnest to such a subject,  Sunk in a moan prolong'd and low.
something might be produced still more im-       And chang'd the conquering clarion swel,
pressive and original than even this age has     For wild lament o'er those that fell.
yet witnessed.                                  "The war-pipes ceas'd; but lake and hill
It is now time, however, that we should lay    Were busy with their echoes still;
before our readers some of the passages in       And, when they slept, a vocal strain
the present poem which appear to us most         Bade their hoarse chorus wake again,
characteristic of the peculiar genius of the     While loud an hundred clansmen raise
author — and the first that strikes us, in tu-    Their voices in their Chieftain's praise.
ing overa the leves, is thke followsing.   turn  -  Each boanman, bending to his oar,
Ing over the leaves, is the following fine de-   With measur'd sweep the burthen bore,
scription of Sir Roderick's approach to the      In such wild cadence, as the breeze
isle, as described by the aged minstrel, at the  Makes through December's leafless trees.
close of his conversation with Ellen.  The       The chorus first could Allan know,
moving picture-the effect of the sounds —          Rod'righ Vich Alpine, ho  iero!'
nd the wild character and strong and pecu-    d near, and nearer as they row'd,
*and the wild character and strong ad p -  Distinct the martial ditty flow'd
liar nationality of the whole procession, are
given with inimitable spirit and power of ex-                "BOAT S G.
pression." Hail to the chief who in iu                                         ances 
Honour'd and bless'd         green Pine!
- " But hark, what sounds are these?  Lonr  may the Tree in        eat  glances
My dull ears catch no falt'ring breeze,     Flourish the shelter       of our line "No weeping birch nor aspen's wake;r 
Nor breath is dimpling in the lake;       "Ours is no sapling, cha    rn by4  fountain,
Still is the canna's hoary beard,           Blooming at Beltane,     ro fade; 
Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard-       When the whirlwind h'd ev'ry leaf on ths
And hark again! some pipe of war                 mountain,
Sends the bold pibroch from afar."-         The more shall Cla   pine exult in her shade.
Moor'd in the rifted rock,
"Far up the lengthen'd lake were spied           Proof to the tempest's shock,
Four dark'ning specks upon the tide,        Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow;
That, slow, enlarging on the view,              Menteith and Breadalbane, then,
Four mann'd and masted barges grew,             Echo his praise agen,
And bearing downwards from Glengyle,'Rod'righ Vich Alpine dhu, ho! ieroe!'
Steer'd full upon the lonely isle;        "Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands!
The point of Brianchoil they pass'd,        Stretch to your oars, for the ever-green Pine!
And, to the windward as they cast,        O! that the rose-bud that graces yon islands,
Against  the sun they gave to shine
Against the sun they gave to shine  i       Were wreath'd in a garland around him to twine I
The bold Sir Rod'rick's banner'd Pine!
O that some seedling gem,
Nearer and nearer as they bear,                Wortha such noble stem,
Spears, pikes, and axes flash in air.           W       s
Spears, pikes, and axes flasb in air.     Honour'd and bless'd in their shadow might grow
Now might you see the tartans brave,           Loud        Clan-Alpine then
And plaids and plumage dance and wave;         Ring from her deepmost glen
Now see the bonnets sink and rise,           Rod'ringh Vich Alpine dhu, ho  ieroe 
As his tough oar the rower plies;
See flashing at each sturdy stroke                                        pp. 65-71.
The wave ascending into smoke!             The reader may take next the following
See the proud pipers on the bow,          general sketch of Loch Katrine:
And mark the gaudy streamers flow
From their loud chanters down, and sweep,   " One burnish'd sheet of living gold,
The furrow'd bosom of the deep,             Loch Katrine lay beneath him roll'd;
As, rushing through the lake amain,         In all her length far winding lay,
They plied the ancient Highland strain.     With promontory, creek, and bay,
*I Ever, as on they bore, more loud         And islands that, empurpled bright,
And louder rung the pibroch proud.    Floated amid the livelier light;
And louder rung the pibroch proud.          And mountains, that like giants stand,
At first the sounds, by distance tame,      To sentinel enchanted lants stand,
Mellow'd along the waters came,             To sentinel enchanted land.
Mellow'd along the waters came,             High on the south, huge Benvenue
And ling'ring long by cape and bay,         High on the lak e in masses threw
Waii'd every harsher note away; *Down to the lake in masses threw
il'dThen, bursting boldharsher note away;   Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurl'd
Then, bursting bolder on the ear,           The fragments of an earlier world!
The clan's shrill Gath'ring they could hear;  Th    e fragments of an eather'd o'er
Those thrilling sounds, that call the might  His ruin'd sides  t feather'd o'er
Of old Clan-Alpine to the fight.            His ruin'd sides and summit hoar;
T       tOf old Clan-Altpine to the fight.  While on the north, through middle air,
Thick beat the rapid notes, as wheglen      Ben-an heav'd high his forehead bare."-pp. 18, 19.
The must'ring hundreds shake the glen,
And, hurrying at the signal dread,          The next is a more minute view of the same
The batter'd earth returns their tread!
Then prelude light, of livelier tone,     scenery i a summer dawn  closed with a fine
Express'd their merry marching on,        picture of its dark lord.




SCOTT'S LADI O9EE LAKE.                                      377
"The summer dawn's reflected hue                 The following reflections on an ancient field
To purple chang'd Loch Katrine blue;         of battle afford one of the most remarkable
Mildly and soft the western breeze           instances of false taste in all Mr. Scott's wriJust kiss'd the lake, just stirr'd the trees  ings. Yet the brevity and variet  of the
And the pleas'd lake, like maiden coy,       ting   Yet the brevity and varety of the
Trembled but dimpled not for joy!           images serve well to show, as we have for.
Tile mountain shadows on her breast          merly hinted, that even in his errors there are
Were neither broken nor at rest;             traces of a powerful genius.
In bright uncertainty they lie,
Like future joys to Fancy's eye!                              " a dreary glen,
The water lily to the light                    Where scatter'd lay the bones of men,
Her chalice rear'd of silver bright;           In some forgotten battle slain,
The doe awoke, and to the lawn,                And bleach'd by drifting wind and rain.
Begemrnl'd with dewv.drops, led her fawn;      It might have tam'd a warrior's heart,
The grey mist left the mountain side,          To view such mockery of his art! 
The torrent show'd its glistening pride;       The knot-grass fetter'd there the hand,
Invisible in flecked sky,                       Which once could burst an iron band;
The lark sent down her revelry;                Beneath the broad and ample bone,
The black-bird and the speckled thrush         That buckler'd heart to fear unknown,
Good-morrow. gave from brake and bush;         A feeble and a timorous guest,
In answer coo'd the cushat dove                The field-fare fram'd her lowly nest!
Her notes of peace, and rest, and love.        There the slow blind-worm left his slime
On the fleet limbs that mock'd at time;
" No thought of peace, no thought of rest,       And there, too, lay the leader's skull,
Ass'ag'd the storm in Rod'rick's breast.       Still wreath'd with chaplet flush'd and full,
Wi./l sheathed broad-sword in his hand,        For heath-bell, with her purple bloom,
Abrupt he pac'd the islet strand:              Supplied the bonnet and the plume."-pp. 102, 103.
The shrirning band stood oft aghast
At the impatient glance he cast,-               But one of the most striking passages ir
Such glance the mountain eagle threw,        the poem, certainly, is that in which Sir
As, from the cliffs of Ben-venue,            Roderick is represented. as calling up his men
She spread her dark sails on the wind,       suddenly from their ambush, when Fitz-James
And, high in middle heaven reclin'd,                          mpatience to meet, face to
With her broad shadow on the lake,           expressed his impatience to meet, face to
With her broad shadow on the lake,
Silenc'd the warblers of the brake."-pp. 98-100. face, that murderous chieftain and his clan.
The following description of the starting of "'Have, then, thy wish!'-He whistled shrill:
" the fiery cross,"  bears more marks of labour   And he was answer'd from the hill!
Wild as the scream of the curlew,
than most of Mr. Scott's poetry, and blrds, From crag to creag mfe signal flew.
perhaps, upon straining and  exuap tion          Instant, through copse and heath, arose
yet it shows great power.                        Bonnets and spears and bended bows!
"Then Rod'rick, with impatient look,             On right, on left, above, below,
From Brian's hand the symbol took:             Sprung up at once the lurking foe;'Speed, Malise, speed!' he said, and gave     From shingles grey their lances start.
The ckosslet to his henchman brave. the bracken-bush sends forth the dart'The muster-place be Lanric mead-              The rushes and the willow-wand
Instant the time-speed, Malise, speed          Are bristling into axe and brand,
Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue,        And ev'ry tuft of broom gives life
The barge across Loch Katrine flew;            To plaided warrior ard for strife.
High stood the henchman on the prow;           That whistle garrison'd the glen
So rapidl the,b n row,,          sAt once with full five hundred men.
So rapidly the bargemen row,                   As if the yawning hill to heaven
The bubbles, where they launch'd the boat,     A subterr anean host had given
Were all unbroken and rafloatl,                Watching their leader's beck and will,
Dancitg ihn foam and ripple still,              All silent there they stood and still.
WheAnd fromi e the silver beach's side         Like the loose crags whose threat'ning mash
Lay tott'ring o'er the hollow pass,
Still was the prow three fathom wide,          Lay f an in ont's touh could urge
When lightly bounded to the land,              As if an infant's touch could urge
The messenger of blood and brand.              Their headlong passage down the verge,'Speed, Malise, speed! the dun deer's hide    With step and weapon forward flung,
On fleeter foot was never tied.                Upon the mountain-side they hung.
The mountaineer cast glance of pride
Speed, Malise, speed! such cause of haste     The mountaineer cast glance of pride
Thine active sinews never brac'd.              Along Benledi's living side;
Bend'gainst the steepy hill thy breast,       Full on FitzJames- How say'st thou now
Burst down like torrent from its crest;         TheFull on Fitz James-'  sable brow
With short and springing footstep pass          These are Clan-Alpine's warriors true;
With shor gng ootstep pass  And, Saxon, —- am Roderick Dhu!"The trembling bog and false morass;
Across the brook like roe-buck bound,         " Fitz-James was brave:-Though to his heart
And thread the brake like questing hound;       The life-blood thrill'd with sudden start,
The crag is high, the scaur is deep,           He mann'd himself with dauntless air,
Yet shrink not from the desperate leap;         Return'd the Chief his haughty stare,
Parch'd are thy burning lips and brow,         His back against a rock he bore,
Yet by the fountain pause not now;             And firmly plac'd his foot before:Herald of battle, fate, and fear,' Come one, come all! this rock shall fly
Stretch onward in thy fleet career!            From its firm base as soon as' --
The wounded hind thou track'st not now,        Sir Roderick mark'd-and in his eyes
Pursu'st not maid through greenwood bough,     Respect was mingled with surprise,
Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace            And the stern joy which warriors feel
With rivals in the mountnip race;              In foeman worthy of their steel.
But danger, death, and w~rrior deed,            Short space he stood-then wav'd his hands
Are in thy course-Speed, Malise. speed!"'      Down sunk the disappearing band!
pp. 112-114.      Each warrior vanish'd where he stood,




OETRY.
In broom or bracken, heath or wood           "As wreath of snow on mountain breast,
Sunk brand and spear and bended bow,           Slides from the rock that gave it rest,
In osiers pale and copses low;                 Poor Ellen glided from her stay,
It seem'd as if their mother Earth             And at the Monarch's feet she lay;
Had swallow'd up her warlike birth!            Awfford her choking voice commandsThe wind's last breath had toss'd in air,      ILhow'd the ring-she clasp'd her hand.
Pennon, and plaid, and plumage fair-          (NWt a moment could he brook,
The next but swept a lone hill-side,           The gen'rous prince, that suppliant look!
Where heath and fern were waving wide;         Gently he rais'd her-and the while
The sun's last glance was glinted back,        Check'd with a glance the circle's smile;
From spear and glaive, from targe and jack-    Graceful, but grave, her brow he kiss'd,
The next, all unreflected, shone               And bade her terrors be dismiss'd:On bracken green, and cold grey stone."' Yes, Fair! the wand'ring poor Fitz-James
pp. 202-205.     The fealty of Scotland claims.
The following picture is of a very different   To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring 
He will redeem his signet ring,   -
character; but touched also with the hand of                                   pp. 281-284.
a true poet:We cannot resist adding the graceful wind
"Yet ere his onward way he took,             ing up of the whole story:The Stranger cast a ling'ring look,
Where easily his eye might reach           "' Malcolm, come forth!'-And, and at the word
The Harper on the islet beach,               Down kneel'd the Grneme to Scotland's Lord.
Reclin'd against a blighted tree,' For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues,
As wasted, grey, and worn as he.             From thee may Vengeance claim her dues,
To minstrel meditation given,                Who, nurtur'd underneath our smile,
His rev'rend brow was rais'd to heaven,      Has paid our care by treach'rous wile,
As from the rising sun to claim              And sought, amid thy faithful clan,
A sparkle of inspiring flame.           0   A refuge for an outlaw'd man,
His hand, reclin'd upon the wire,            Dishonouring thus thy loyal name.Seem'd watching the awak'ning fire;          Fetters and warder for the Grieme!'
So still he sate, as those who wait          His chain of gold the King unstrung,
Till judgment speak the doom of fate;        The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung,
So still, as if no breeze might dare         Then gently drew the glitt'ring band;
To lift one lock of hoary hair;              And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand!"-p. 288.
So still, as life itself were fled,          There are no separate introductions to the
In the last sound his harp had sped.
Upon a rock with lichens wild,             cantos of this poem; but each of them  beBeside him Ellen sate and smil'd," &e.     gins with one or two stanzas in the measure
pp. 50, 51.   of Spenser, usually containing some reflecThough these extracts have already ex- tions connected with the subject about to be
tended this article beyond  all reasonable entered on; and written, for the most part,
bounds, we cannot omit Ellen's introduction with great tenderness and beauty.  The folto the court, and the transformation of Fitz- lowing, we think is among the most striking:James into the King of Scotland.  The un- "Time rolls his ceaseless course! The race of yore
known prince, it will be recollected., himself    Who danc'd our infancy upon their knee,
conducts her into the royal presence:-         And told our marvelling boyhood legends store,
Of their strange ventures happ'd by land or sea,
"With beating heart, and bosom wrung,          How are they blotted from the things that be!
As to a brother's arm she clung.               How few, all weak and wither'd of their force,
Gently he dried the falling tear,            Wait, on the verge of dark eternity,
And gently whisper'd hope and cheer;           Like stranded wrecks-the tide returning hoarse,
Her falt'ring steps half led, half staid,    To sweep them from our sight! Time rolls his
Through gallery fair and high arcade,                ceaseless course!
Till, at his touch, its wings of pride
A portal arch unfolded wide.                 "Yet live there still who can remember well,
How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew,"' Within'twas brilliant all and light,                &c.-pp. 97, 98.
A thronging scene of figures bright;
It glow'd on Ellen's dazzled sight,            There is an invocation to the Harp of the
As when the setting sun has given            North, prefixed to the poem.; and a farewell
Ten thousand hues to summer even,            subjoined to it in the same measure, written
And, from their tissue fancy frames
And, from their tissue and   fanciry  frdames.   and versified, it appears to us, with more than
Aerial knights and fairy dames.
Still by Fitz-James her footing staid;       Mr. Scott's usual care.  We give two of the
A few faint steps she forward made,          three stanzas that compose the last:Then slow her drooping head she rais'd,      "Harp of the North, farewell!  The hills grow
And fearful round the presence gaz'd; 
For him she sought, who own'd this state,      On purple peaks a deeper shade desending
The dreaded prince, whose will was fate!       On purple peaks a deeper shade descending;
She gaz'd on many a princely port,           In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark;
Might well have rul'd a royal court;           The deer, half-seen, are to the covert wending.
On many a splendid garb she gaz'd-           Resume thy wizard elm! the fountain lending,
Then tu'n'd bewilder'd and amaz'd,             And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy;
For all stood bare; and, in the room,        Thy numbers sweet withNature's vespers blending,
Fitz-James alone wore cap and plume!          With distant echo from the fold and lea,
To him each lady's look was lent,            And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of hous.
On him each courtier's eye was bent;                 ing bee.
Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen,       " Hark! as my ling'ring footsteps slow retire,
He stood, in simple Lincoln green,             Some Spirit of the Air has wak'd thy string!
The centre of the glitt'ring ring!-'Tis now a Seraph bold, with touch of fire;
And Snowdoun's Knight is Scotland's King!'Tis now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing.




SCOTT'S LADY OF THE LAKE.                                27n
Receding now, the dying numbers ring            And kept our stoutest kernes in awe,
Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell!     Even at the pass of Beal'maha.' " —pp. 146, 147.
And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring    Scarcely more tolerable are such exre
A wand'ring witch-note of the distant spell- s-  
And now,'tis silent all!-Enchantress, fare thee sions aswell!"-pp. 289, 290.                    "For life is Hugh of Larbert lame;"These passages, though taken with very Or that unhappy couplet, where the King
little selection, are favourable specimens, we himself is in such distress for a rhyme, as to
think, on the whole, of the execution of the be obliged to apply to one of the most obscure
work before us. We had marked several of saints on the calendar.
an opposite character; but, fortunately for
Mr. Scott. we have already extracted so much,'Tis James of Douglas, by Sailt Serle;
The uncle of the banish'd Earl."
that we shall scarcely have room to take any
notice of them; and must condense all our   We would object, too, to such an accumuvituperation into a very insignificant compass. lation of strange words as occurs in these
One or two things, however, we think it our three lines:duty to point out. Though great pains have         "' Fleet foot on the correi;
evidently been taken with Brian the Hermit,          Sage counsel,. Cumber;
we think his whole character a failure, and          Red hand in the foray,' " &c.
mere deformity-hurting the interest of the   Nor can we relish such babyish verses as
story by its improbability, and rather heavy  "'He will return -dear lady, trust
and disagreeable, than sublime or terrible in    With joy, return. He will-he must.'
its details. The quarrel between Malcolm
and Roderick, in the second canto, is also   "'Nay, lovely Ellen! Dearest! nay.'
ungraceful and offensive. There is something    These, however, and several others that
foppish, and out of character, in Malcolm's might be mentioned, are blemishes which
rising to lead out Ellen from her own parlour; may well be excused in a poem of more than
and the sort of wrestling match that takes five thousand lines, produced so soon after
place between the rival chieftains on the another still longer: and though they, are
occasion is humiliating and indecorous. The blemishes which it.is proper to notice, begreatest blemish in the poem, however, is the cause they are evidently of a kind that may
ribaldry and dull vulgarity which is put into be corrected, it would be absurd, as well as
the mouths of the soldiery in the guard-room. unfair, to give them any considerable weight
Mr. Scott has condescended to write a song in our general estimate of the work, or of the
for them, which will be read with pain, we powers of the author.  Of these, we have
are persuaded, even by his warmest admirers: already spoken at sufficient length; and must
and his whole genius, and even his power now take an abrupt leave of Mr. Scott, by,pf versification, seems to desert him when he expressing our hope, and tolerably confident
attempts to repeat their conversation. Here expectation, of soon meeting with him again.
is some of the stuff which has dropped, in That he may injure his popularity by the
this inauspicious attempt, from the pen of one mere profusion of his publications, is no doubt
of the first poets of his age or country:-   possible;'though many of the most celebrated
"' Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp;    poets have been among the most voluminous:
Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp,       but, that the public must gain by this libeGet thee an ape, and trudge the land,     rality, does not seem  to admit of any quesThe leader of a juggler band.'-          tion. If our poetical treasures were increased
"' No, comrade!-no such fortune mine.      by the publication of Marmion and the Lady
After the fight, these sought our line.   of the Lake, notwithstanding the existence
That aged harper and the girl;            of great faults in both those works, it is eviAnd, having audience of the Earl,
Mar bade I should purveynce of the Earled,  dent that we should be still richer if we posMar bade I should purvey them steed,
And bring them hitherward with speed.     sessed fifty poems of the same merit; and,
Forbear your mirth and rude alarm,        therefore, it is for our interest, whatever it
For none shall do them shame or harm.'-   may be as to his, that their author's muse'Hear ye his boast!' cried John of Brent,  should continue as prolific as she has hitherto
Ever to strife and jangling bent:         been. If Mr. Scott will only vary his sub-' Shall he strike doe beside our lodge,'Shall he strike doe beside our lodge,    jects a little more, indeed, we think we might
To pay the forester his fee!             engage to insure his own reputation against
I'll have my share, howe'er it be.'"      any material injury from their rapid parturipp. 250, 251.    tion; and, as we entertain very great doubts
His Highland freebooters, indeed, do not whether much greater pains would enable
use a much nobler style. For example: —   him to write much better poetry, we would
rather have two beautiful poems, with the
" It is, because last evening-tide
Brian an augury hath tried,               present quantum  of faultsLLthan one, with
Of that dread kind which must not be      only one-tenth part less alloy. He will always
Unless in dread extremity,                be a poet, we fear, to whom  the fastidious
The Taghairm call'd; by which, afar,      will make great objections; but he may
Our sires foresaw the events of war.      easily find, in his popularity, a compensation' Duncraggan' milk-white bull they slew.'-   for their scruples. He has the jury hollow in
The choicent of the prey we had,          his favour; and though the court Mnay think
When swept oir merry-men Gallangad.       that its directions have not been sufficiently
Sore did he cumber our retreat;           attended to, it will not quarrel with tr.e verdict.




nO                                      POETRY.
(apriL, 1808.)
Poets.  By the Reverend GEORGE CRABBE. 8vo. pp. 260. London, 1807.*
WE receive the proofs of Mr. Crabbe's usurp the attention which he was sure of
poetical existence, which are contained in commanding, and  allowed  himself to  te
this volume, with the same sort of feeling nearly forgotten by a public, which reckons
that would be excited by tidings of an ancient upon being reminded of all the claims which
friend, whom we no longer expected to hear the living have on its favour. His former
of in this world. We rejoice in his resurrec- publications, thougl of distinguished merit,
tion, both for his sake and for our own: But were perhaps too small in volume to remain
we feel also a certain movement of self-con- long the objects of general attention, and
demnation, for having been remiss in our in- seem, by some accident, to-have been jostled
quiries after him, and somewhat too negligent aside in the crowd of more clamorous comof the honours which ought, at any rate, to petitors.
have been paid to his memory.                   Yet, though the name of Crabbe has not
It is now, we are afraid, upwards of twenty hitherto been very common in the mouths of
years since we were first struck with the vig- our poetical critics, we believe there are few
our, originality, and truth of description of real lovers of poetry to whom  some of his
The Village I; and since, we regretted that sentiments and descriptions are not secretly
an author, who could write so well, should familiar. There is a truth and a force in many
have written so little. From that time to the of his delineations of rustic life, which is calpresent, we have heard little of Mr. Crabbe; culated to sink deep into the memory; and,
and fear that he has been in a great measure being confirmed by daily observation, they
lost sight of by the public, as well as by us. are recalled upon innumerable occasions —
With a singular, and scarcely pardonable in- when the ideal pictures of more fanciful auaifference to fame, he has remained, during thors have lost all their interest.  For ourthis long interval, in patient or indolent re- selves at least, we profess to be indebted to
pose; and, without making a single move- Mr. Crabbe for many of these strong impresment to maintain or advance the reputation  sions; and have known more than one of our
he had acquired, has permitted others to unpoetical acquaintances, who declared they
could never pass by a parish workhouse with.
* I have given a larger space to Crabbe in this out thinking of the description of it they hat
republication than to any of his contemporary poets; read at school in the Poetical Extracts.  The
not merely because I think more highly of him
than of most of them, but also because I fancy that volume before us wil renew, we trust and
he has had less justice done him. The nature of extend many such impressions.  It contains
his subjects was not such as to attract either imita- all the former productions of the author, with
tors or admirers, from among the ambitious or fan- about double their bulk of new matter; most
ciful lovers of poetry; or, consequently, to set him  of it in the same taste and manner of comat the head of a School, or let him surround him- position with the former; and some o a kind
self with the zealots of a Sect: And it must also positon h te ormer; and some of a kmdp
be admitted, that his claims to distinction depend of which we have had no previous example
fully as much on his great powers of observation, in this author.  The whole, however, is of no
his skill in touching the deeper sympathies of our ordinary merit, and will be found. we have
nature, and his power of inculcating, by/fheir means, little doubt, a sufficient warrant for Mr. Crabbe
the most impressive lessons of humarity, as on any to take his place as one of the most original,
fine play of fancy, or grace and beauty in his de- nervous  a nd pa thetic poets of the present
lineations. I have great faith, however, in the in- nervous, and pathetic poets of the present
trinsic worth and ultimate success of those more century.
substantial attributes; and have, accordingly, the   His characteristic, certainly, is force, and
strongest impression that the citations I have here truth of description, joined for the most part
given from Crabbe will strike more, and sink deeper to great selection and condensation of expresinto the minds of readers to whom they are new  sion — that kind of strength and originality
tor by whom they may have been partially forgot- whih we meet with in Cowperand that sort
ten), than any I have been able to present from  which we meet with in Cowper, and that sort
other writers. It probably is idle enough (as well of diction and versification which we admire
as a little presumptuous) to suppose that a publica- in C The Deserted Village " of Goldsmith, or
tion like this will afford many opportunities of test- Ct The Vanity of Human Wishes " of Johnson.
ing the truth of this prediction. But, as the ex- If he can be said to have imitated the manner
periment is to be made, there can be no harm in of any author, it is Goldsmith, indeed, who
mentioning this as one of its objects.
It is but candid, however, after all, to add, that has been the object of his imitation; and yet
nly concern for Mr. Crabbe's reputation would his general train of thinking, and his views
scarcely have led me to devote near one hundred of society, are so extremely opposite, that,
pages to the estimate of his poetical merits, had I when " The Village" was first published, it
not set some value on the Speculations as to the was commonly considered ase an antidote or
elements of poetical excellene in general, and its an answer to the more captivting reresenta
moral bearings and affinities for the introduction   an answer to the  more captivating r epresenta
of which this estimate seemed to present an occa- tions of w C The  Deserted Village."'  Compared
mien, or apology.                             with this celebrated author, he will be found,




CRABBE'S POEMS.                                 381
we think, to have more vigour and less deli- men of the new school, on the other hans
cacy; and while he must be admitted to be scarcely ever condescend to take their sub
inferior in the fine finish and uniform beauty  jects from any description of persons at a.
of his composition, we cannot help considering known to the common inhabitants of the
him as superior, both in the variety and the world; but invent for themselves certain
truth of his pictures. Instead of that uniform  whimsical and unheard-of beings, to whom
tint of pensive tenderness which overspreads they impute some fantastical combination of
the whole poetry of Goldsmith, we find in Mr. feelings, and then labour to excite our sym.
Crabbe many gleams of gaiety and humour. pathy for them, either by placing them in inThough his habitual views of life are more credible situations, or by some strained and
gloomy than those of his rival, his poetical exaggerated moralisation of a vague and tramperament seems far more cheerful; and gical description. Mr. Crabbe, in short, shows
hen the occasions of sorrow and rebuke are us something which we have all seen, or may
one by, he can collect himself for sarcastic see, in real life; and draws from it such feelleasantry, or unbend in innocent playfulness. ings and such reflections as every human beHis diction, though generally pure and pow- ing must acknowledge that it is calculated to
Erful, is sometimes harsh, and sometimes excite. He delights us by the truth, and vivid
quaint; and hBe has occasionally admitted a and picturesque beauty of his representations,
couplet or two in a state so unfinished, as to and by the force and pathos of the sensations
give a character of inelegance to the passages with which we feel that they are connected.
in which they occur. With a taste less dis- Mr. Wordsworth and his associates, on the
ciplined and less fastidious than that of Gold- other hand, introduce us to beings whose exsmith, he has, in our apprehension, a keener istence was not previously suspected by the
eye for observation, and a readier hand for acutest observers of nature; and excite an
the delineation of what he has observed. interest for them-where they do excite any
There is less poetical keeping in his whole interest-more by an eloquent and refined
performance; but the groups of which it con- analysis of their own capricious feelings, than
sists are conceived, we think, with equal by any obvious or intelligible ground of symgenius, and drawn with greater spirit as well pathy in their situation.
as far greater fidelity.                    Those who are acquainted with the Lyrical
It is not quite fair, perhaps, thus to draw a Ballads, or the mort; recent publications of
detailed parallel between a living poet and Mr. Wordsworth~ will scarcely deny the jusone whose reputation has been sealed by tice of this representation; but in order to
death, and by thq immutable sentence of a vindicate it to such as do not enjoy that ad.
surviving generation. Yet there are so few 1vantage, we must beg leave to make a few
of his contempor aries to whom Mr. Crabbe Ihasty refer;alces to the former, and by far the
Sears any resemblance, that we can scarcel  east exceptinoable of those productions.
&plain our opinion of his merit, withoutcolil-   A village schoolmaster, for instance, is a
paring him  to some of his priedecessors.l pretty common poetical character. Goldsmith
There is one setof writers, indeed  from- has drawn him inimitably; so has Shenstone,
whose works those of Mr. Crabbe might re- with the slight change of sex; and Mr. Crabbe,
ceive all that elucidation which results from  in two passages, has followed their footsteps.
contrast, and from an entire opposition in all Now, Mr. Wordsworth has a village school.
poipts of taste and opinion. We allude now  master also-a personage who makes no small
to the Wordsworths, and the Southeys, and figure in three or four of his poems. But by
Coleride, ai-rtid.11 thit ambitious fraternity, what traits is this worthy old gentleman de.
that, with good iilit.:,ns and extraordinary lineated by the new poet? No pedantry-no
talents are labouriyrt to bring back our poetry innocent vanity of learning-no mixture of
to the fantastical oddity and puling childish- indulgence with the pride of power, and of
ness of Withers, Quarles, or Marvel. These poverty with the consciousness of rare ac
gentlemen write a great deal about rustic life, quirements. Every feature which belongs to
8s well as Mr. Crabbe; and they even agree the situation, or marks the character in com*ith him in dwelling much on its discomforts; mon apprehension, is scornfully discarded by
but nothing can be more opposite than the Mr. Wordsworth; who represents his grey.'iews they take of the subject, or the manner haired rustic pedagogue as a sort of half crazy,
in which they execute their representations of sentimental person, overrun with fine feel.
them.                                     ings, constitutional merriment, and a most
Mr. Crabbe exhibits the common people humorous melancholy.  Here are the two
of: Ejitd;wiy much as they are, and as stanzas in which this consistent and intelli.
they rust aprear to every one who will take gible character is pourtrayed. The diction is
the trouble v, examining into their condition; at least as new as the conception.
at the sime time that he renders his sketches;: a very high degree interesting and beautiful "The sighs which Matthew heav'd were sighs
-by selecting what is most fit for descrip-  Of one tir'd out withfun and madness;
— by selecting w    is most fit for descrip-   The tears which came to Matthew's eyes
tion —by grouping them into such forms as     Were tears of light-the oil of gladness.
must catch the attention or awake the memorv-and by scattering over the whole such  Yet sometimes, when the secret cup
Of still and serious thought went round
traits of moral sensibility, of sarcasm, and of He seem'd as if he drank it upwent round
deep reflection, as every one must feel to be  He felt with spirit so profound.
natural, and own to be powerful. The gentle-   Thou soul of God's best earthly mod," &e.




382                                     POETRY.
A frail damsel again is a character common sary for his readers to keep in view, if they
enough in all poems; and one upon which  would wish to understand the beauty or pro
many fine and pathetic lines have been ex- priety of his delineations.
pended.  Mr. Wordsworth has written more    A pathetic tale of guilt or superstition may
than three hundred on the subject: but, in- be told, we are apt to fancy, by the poet himstead of new images of tenderness, or deli- self, in his general character of poet, with full
cate representation of intelligible feelings, he as much effect as by any other person. An
has contrived to tell us nothing whatever of old nurse, at any rate, or a monk or parish
the unfortunate fair one, but that her name is clerk, is always at hand to give grace to such
Martha Ray; and that she goes up to the top a narration. None of these, however, would
of a hill, in a red cloak, and cries "0  misery!" satisfy Mr. Wordsworth. He has written a
All the rest of the poem is filled with a de- long poem of this sort, in which he thinks it
scription of an old thorn and a pond, and of indispensably necessary to apprise the reader,
the silly stories which the neighbouring old that he has endeavoured to represent the
women told about them.                       language and sentiments of a particular charThe sports of childhood, and the untimely acter-of which character, he adds, "the
death of promising youth, is also a common reader will have a general notion, if he has
topic of poetry. Mr. Wordsworth has made ever known a man, a captain of a small trading
some blank verse about it; but, instead of vessel, for example, who being past the middle
the delightful and picturesque sketches with age of life, has retired upon an annuity, or
which so many authors of moderate talents small independent income, to some village or
have presented us on this inviting subject, all country, of which he was not a native, or in
that he is pleased to communicate of his rustic which he had not been accustomed to live!"
child, is, that he used to amuse himself with    Now, we must be permitted  to doubt,
shouting to the owls, and hearing them  an- whether, among all the readers of Mr. Wordsswer. To make amends for this brevity, the worth (few or many), there is a single indiprocess of his mimicry is most accurately de- vidual who has had the happiness of knowing
scribed.                                     a person of this very peculiar description; or
— " With fingers interwoven, both hands    who is capable of forming any sort of conPress'd closely palm to palm, and to his mouth  jecture of the particular disposition and turn
Uplifted, he, as through an. instrument,   of thinking which such a combination of atBlew mimic hootings to the silent owls,    tributes would be apt to produce. To us, we
That they might answer him."-              will confess, the annonce appears as ludicrous
This is all we hear of him; and for the and absurd as it would be in the author of an
sake of this one accomplishment, we are told  ode or an epic to say, "Of this piece the
t{at the author has frequently stood mute, and reader will necessarily form a very erroneous
gazed on his grave for half an hour together!  judgment, unless he is apprised, that it wag
Love, and the fantasies of lovers, have af- written by a pale man in a green coat-sittinW
forded an ample theme to poets of all ages. cross-legged on an oaken stool-with a scratch
OAr. Wordsworth, however, has thought fit to on his nose, and a spelling dictionary on the
dompose a piece, illustrating this copious sub- table."*
ject by one single thought. A lover trots
away to see his mistress one fine evening,   * Some of our readers may have a curiosity to
gazing all the way on the moon; when he know in what manner this old annuitant captain
domes to her door,                           does actually express himself in the village of his
adoption. For their gratification, we annex the two
"0 mercy! to myself I cried,        first stanzas of his story; in which, with all the at.
If Lucy should be dead!"         tention we have been able to bestow, we have been
utterly unable to detect any traits that can be supAnd there the poem ends!                    posed to characterise either a seaman, an annuitant,
Now, we leave it to any reader of common or a stranger in a country town. It is a style, on
cpndour and discernment to say, whether the contrary, which we should ascribe, without
these representations of character and senti- hesitation, to a certain poetical fraternity in the
ment are drawn from that eternal and uni- West of England; and which, we verily believe,
versal standard of truth and nature, which never was, and never will be, used by any one oat
wversal standard otrtanntuewof that fraternity.
every one is knowing enough to recognise,
and no one great enough to depart from with    "There is a thorn-it looks so old,
impunity; or whether they are not formed           In truth ou'd find it hard to say,
H     ow it could ever have been young!
as we have ventured to allege, upon certain      How it oud ever have been young.C..)...         It looks so old and grey.
fantastic and affected peculiarities in the      Not higher than a two-years' child,
mind or fancy of the author, into which it is      It stands erect; this aged thorn!
most improbable that many of his readers          No leaves it has, no thorny points;
will enter, and which cannot, in some cases,     It is a mass of knotted joints:
be comprehended without much effort and            A wretched thing forlorn,
explanation. Instead of multiplying instands erect; and like a stone,
explanation. Instead of multiplying instances    With lichens it is overgrown.
of these wide and wilful aberrations from ordinary nature, it may be more satisfactory to    Like rock or stone, it is o'ergrown
produce the author's own admission of the           With lihens —to the very top;
narrowness of the plan upon which he writes,     And hung with heavy tufts of mop.
A melancholy crop.
and of the very extraordinary circumstances       Up from the earth these mosses creep,
which he himself sometimes thinks it neces-        And this poor thorn, they clasp it round




CRABBE'S POEMS.                                     388
From  these childish and absurd affecta- Silent and sad, and gazing, hand in hand;
tlons, we turn with pleasure to the manly  While bending low, their eager eyes explore
sense and correct picturing of Mr. Crabbe; *The mingled relics of the parish poor!
ense and correct picturing of Mr. Crabbe; The bell tolls late, the moping owl flies round,
and, after being dazzled and made giddy  Fear marks the flight and magnifies the sound;
with the elaborate raptures and obscure origi- The busy priest, detain'd by weightier care,
nalities of these new artists, it is refreshing to Defers his duty till the day of prayer;
meet again with the spirit and nature of our And waiting long, the crowd retire distrest,
old masters, in the nervous pages of the  To think a poor man's bones should lie unblest."
author now before us.                                                           pp. 16, 17.
The poem that stands first in the volume,   The scope of the poem is to show  that the
is that to which we have already alluded as villagers of real life have no resemblance to
having been first given to the public upwards the villagers of poetry; that poverty, in sober
of twenty years ago. It is so old, and has of truth, is very uncomfortable; and vice by no
late been so scarce, that it is probably new  means confined to the opulent. The following
to many of our readers. We shall venture, passage is powerfully, and finely written:therefore, to give a few extracts from it as a
specimen of Mr. Crabbe's original style of  "Or will you deem them amply paid in health,
composition.  We have already hinted at the  Labour's fair child, that languishes with wealth?
composition. Wehave hnt      t Ge  o then! and see them rising with the sun,
description of the Parish Workhouse, and in- Through a long course of daily toil to run;
sert it as an example of no common poetry:-  See them beneath the dog-star's raging heat,
When the knees tremble and the temples beat;:" Theirs is yon house that holds the parish poor,   Behold them, leaning on their scythes, look o'er
Whose walls of mud scarce bear the broken door; The labour past, andtoils to come explore;
There, where the putrid vapours flagging play,    Through fens and marshy moors their steps pursue,
And the dull wheel hums doleful through the day; When their warm pores imbibe the evening dew.
There children dwell who know no parents' care;   " There may you see the youth of slender frame
Parents, who know no children's love, dwell there; Contend with weakness, weariness, and shame;
Heart-broken matrons on their joyless bed,   Yet urg'd along, and proudly loath to yield,
Forsaken wives, and mothers never wed;       He strives to join his fellows of the field;
DeJected widows with unheeded tears,         Till long-contending nature droops at last;
And crippled age with more than childhood-fears; Declining health rejects his poor repast!
The lame, the blind, and, far the happiest they!   His cheerless spouse the coming danger sees,
The moping idiot and the madman gay.         And mutual murmurs urge the slow disease.
"Here, too, the sick their final doom receive,  "Yet grant them health,'tis not for us to tell,
Here brought amid the scenes of grief, to grieve;   Though the head droops not, that the heart is well 
Where the loud groans from some sad chamber Or will you praise that homely, healthy fare,
Mixt with the clamours of the crowd below. [flow, Plenteous and plain, that happy peasants share?
" Say ye, opprest by some fantastic woes,  Oh! trifle not with wants you cannot feel!
Some Jarring nerve that baffles your repose;  Nor mock the misery of a stinted meal;
Who with sad prayers the weary doctor tease,  Homely not wholesome-plain not plenteous-such
To name the nameless ever-new disease;       As you who praise would never deign to touch!
How would ye bear in real pain to lie,         " Ye gentle souls, who dream of rural ease,
Despis'd, neglected, left alone to die? 1Whom the smooth stream and smoother sonnet
How would ye bear to draw your latest breath,    Go! if the peaceful cot your praises share, [please;
Where all that's wretched paves the way for death? Go look within, and ask if peace be there:
"' Such is that room which one rude beam divides, If peace be his-that drooping, weary sire,
And naked rafters form the sloping sides;    Or theirs, that offspring round their feeble fire!
Where the vile bands that bind the thatch are seen, Or hers, that matron pale, whose trembling hand
And lath and mud are all that lie between;   Turns on the wretched hearth th' expiring brand."
Save one dull pane, that, coarsely patch'd, gives                            pp. 8-10.
To the rude tempest, yet excludes the day: [way
Here, on a matted flock, with dust o'erspread,  We shall only give one other extract from
The drooping wretch reclines his languid head;    this poem; and we select the following fine
For him no hand the cordial cup applies," &c.    descriptio n  of that pecu liar sort of barrenne
pp. 12-14. description of that peculiar sort of barrenness
which prevails along the sandy and thinly
The consequential apothecary, who gives inhabited shores of the Channel:an impatient attendance in these abodes of
tnisery, is admirably described; but we pass "Lo! where the heath, with with'ring brake grown
to the last scene:                                   o'er,                          [poor;
Lends the light turf that warms the neighbouring
"Now to the church behold the mourners come,  From thence a length of burning sand appears,
Sedately torpid and devoutly dumb;           Where the thin harvest waves its wither'd ears;
The village children now their games suspend,  There thistles stretch their prickly arms afar,
To see the bier that bears their ancient friend;  And to the ragged infant threaten war;
For he was one in all their idle sport,      There poppies nodding, mock the hope of toil,
And like a monarch rul'd their little court;  There the blue bugloss paints the sterile soil:
The pliant bow he form'd, the flying ball,   Hardy and high, above the slender sheaf,
The bat, the wicket, were his labours all;    The slimy mallow waves her silky leaf;
Him now they follow to his grave, and stand,  O'er the young shoot the charlock throws a shade,
And clasping tares cling round the sickly blade;
With mingled tints the rocky coasts abound,
WithSo close, you'and say thafest inthey were bent,  And a sad splendour vainly shines around."
wlrth plain and manifest ~intent!                                       pp. 5, 6.
To drag it to the ground;
And all had join'd in one endeavour,       The next poem, and the longest in the
To bury this poor thorn for ever."       volume, is now presented for the first time to
And this it seens, is Nature, and Pathos, and the public. It is dedicated, like the former,
Poetry!                                     to the delineation of rural life and characters,




384                                      POETRY.
and is entitled, "The Village Register;" and,   "See! on the floor, what frowzy patches rest!
upon a very simple but  iingular plan, is divi- What nauseous fragments on yon fractur'd chest
ded into t~ee parts, viz3Iaptisms, Marriages  What downy-dust beneath yon window-seat!
and Burialsnto    After an introductory and ge And round these posts that serve this bed for feet 
and Burials   After an introductory and gen.  This bed where all those tatter'd garments lie,
eral view of village manners, the reverend  Worn by each sex, and now perforce thrown by.
author proceeds to present his readers with    "See! as we gaze, an infant lifts its head,
an account of all the remarkable baptisms, Left by neglect, and burrow'd in that bed;
marriages, and funerals, that appear on his The mother-gossip has the love supprest,
register for the preceding year; with a sketch  An infant's cry once waken'd in her breast," &o
Here are no wheels for either wool or flax,
of the character and behaviour of the respect- But packs of cards-made up of sundry packs;
ive parties, and such reflections and exhorta- Here are no books, but ballads on the wall,
tions as are suggested by the subject.  The Are some abusive, and indecent all;
poem  consists, therefore, of a series of por- Pistols are here, unpair'd; with nets and hooks,
traits taken from  the middling and lower Of every kind, for rivers, ponds, and brooks;
ranks of rustic life and delineated on occa- An ample flask that nightly rovers fill,
ranks  of rustic life, a nd d  elineated  on occa- With recent poison from the Dutchman's still;
sions at once more common and more inter- A box of tools with wires of various size,
esting, than any other that could well be Frocks, wigs, and hats, for night or day disguise,
imagined.  They are selected, we think, with  And bludgeons stout to gain or guard a prize.great judgment, and drawn with inimitable    "Here his poor bird, th' inhuman cocker bring
accuracy and strength of colouring.  They  Arms his hard heel, and clips his golden wings;
are finished with much more minutenetss and  With spicy food th' impatient spirit feeds,
And shouts and curses as the battle bleeds:
detail, indeed, than the more general pictures Struck through the brain, depriv'd of both his eyes,
in "The Village;" and, on this account, may  The vanquish'd bird must combat till he dies!
appear occasionally deficient in comprehen- Must faintly peck at his victorious foe,
sion, or in dig'nity.  They.are no doubt, exe- And reel and stagger at each feeble blow;
cuted in some instances with too much of  When fall'n, the savage grasps his dabbled plumes,
chtedinsome iese accuracy;andes  enr itoo    His blood-stain'd arms, Ior other deaths assumes;
a Chinese accuracy; and enter into details And damns the craven-fowl, that lost his stake,
which many readers may pronounce tedious And only bled and perish'd for his sake!"
and unnecessary.  Yet there is a justness                                    pp. 40-44.
and force in  the  representation which is   Mr. Crabbe now opens his chronicle; and
entitled to something more than indulgence; the first babe that appears on the list is a
and though several of the groups are com- natural child of the miller's daughter.  This
posed of low and disagreeable subjects, still, damsel fell in love with a sailor; but her
we think that some allowance is to be made father refused  his consent, and no priest
for the author's plan of giving a full and exact would unite them without it.  The poor girl
view of village life, which could not possibly  yielded to her passion; and her lover went to
be accomplished without including those baser sea, to seek a portion for his bride:varieties.  He aims at an important moral
effect by this exhibition; and must not be   Then camethe days of shame, the grievous night,
f aud ee o a r of te p e w       The varying look, the wand'ring appetite;
defrauded either of that, or of the praise which  The joy assum'd, while sorrow dimm'd the eyes,
is due to the coarser efforts of his pen, out of  The forc'd sad smiles that follow'd sudden sighs,
deference to the sickly delicacy of his more  And every art, long us'd, but us'd in vain,
fastidious readers.  We admit, however, that To hide thy progress, Nature, and thy pain.
there is more carelessness, as well as more' Day after day were past in grief and pain,
Quaintness in this poem  than in the other; Week after week, nor came thle youth again;
and that he has now  and then  1pparentl; Her boy was born:-.No lads nor lasses came
and t.h at he.h:as now and then apparently  To grace the rite or give the child a name;
heaped up circumstances rather to gratify  Nor grave conceited nurse, of office proud,
his own taste for detail and accumulation, Bore the young Christian, roaring through the
than to give any additional effect to his de- In a small chamber was my office done,  [crowd;
scription.  With this general observation, we  Where blinks, through paper'd panes, the setting
the reader's attention to the fllowing  sun;
beg the reader's attention to the following Where noisy sparrows, perch'd on penthouse near,
abstract and citations.                        Chirp tuneless joy, and mock the frequent tear."The poem begins with a general view, first   " Throughout the lanes, she glides at evening's
of the industrious and contented villager, and  There softfy lulls her infant to repose;    [close,
then of the profligate and disorderly.  The  Then sits and gazes, bu! withviewless look,
first compartment is not so striking as the last. As gilds the moon the rimpling of the brook;
Then sings her vespers but in voice so lbw,
Mr. Crabbe, it seems, has a set of smugglers She hears heir v      sbut in voice so low
smuggers She hears their murmurs as the waters flow;
among his flock, who inhabit what is called  And she too murmurs, and begins to find
the Street in his village. There is nothing  The solemn wand'rings of a wounded mind!
comparable to the following description, but                                      pp. 47-49.
some of the prose sketches of Mandeville:-       We pass the rest of the Baptisms; and
"Here, in cabal, a disputatious crew          proceed to the more interesting chapter of
Each evening meet; the sot, the cheat, the shrew; Marriages.  The first pair here is an old snug
Riots are nightly heard-the curse, the cries  bachelor, who, 4:.ie first days of dotage
Of beaten wife, perverse in her replies:      had married hmis,iaid-servant. The reverend
Boys in their first stol'n rags, to steal begin,  Mr. Crabbe is very facetious on this match;
And girls, who know not sex, are skill'd in gin!   and not very scrupulously delicate.
Snarers and smugglers here their gains divide,
Ensnaring females here their victims hide;       The following pictures though liable in part
And here is one, the Sibyl of the Row,         to the same objection, is perfect, we think, in
Who knows all secrets, or affects to know.-   that style of drawing:



CRABBE'S POEMS.                                      3,
" Next at our altar stood a luckless pair,       The ardent lover, it seems, turned out a
Brought by strong passions-and a warrant - there; brutal husband
By long rent cloak, hung loosely, strove the bride,
From ev'ry eye, what all perceiv'd to hide;," If present, railing, till he saw her pain'd;
While the boy-bridegroom, shuffling in his pace,   If absent, spending what their labours gain'd:
Now hid awhile, and then expos'd his face;     Till that fair form in want and sickness pin'd,
As shame alternately with anger strove         And hope and comfort fled that gentle mind."
The brain, confus'd with mtiddy ale, to move!                                          p. 79.
In haste and stamm'ring he perform'd his part,
And look'd the rage that rankled in his heart.   It may add to the interest which some
Low spake the lass, and lisp'd and minc'd the readers will take in this simple story, to be
while;                                 told, that it was the last piece of poetry that
Look'd on the lad, and faintly try'd to smile;
With soft'nened speech and humbled tone she was read to Mr. Fox during his fatal illness;
To stir the embers of departed love;   [strove and that he examined and made some flattero
While he a tyrant, frowning walk'd before,     ing remarks on the manuscript of it a few
Felt the poor purse, and sought the public door;   days before his death.
Sihe sadly following in submission went,          We are obliged to pass over the rest of the
And saw the final shilling foully spent!      Marriages, though some of them are extremeThen to her father's hut the pair withdrew,
And bade to love and comfort long adieu!"     ly characteristic and beautiful, and to proceed
pp. 74, 75.   to the Burials.  Here we have a great variety
The next bridal is that of Phcebe Dawson. of portraits,-the old drunken innkeeperthe most innocent and beautiful of all the   the  bustling farmer's wife-the infant-and
village  maidens.  We  give  the ~ollowing           the lady of the manor.  Te following
pretty description of her courtship:-                   on oing, and in the good old taste of Pope and
"Now, through the lane, up hill, and cross the Dryden:(Seen but by few, and blushing to be seen — [green,
Dejected, thoughtful, anxious and afraid,)                   " Forsaken stood the hall,
Led by the lover, walk'd the silent maid:      Worms ate the floors, the tap'stry fled the wall;
Slow through the meadows rov'd they, many a mile, No fire the kitchen's cheerless grate display'd 
Tov'd by each bank, and trifled at each stile;  No cheerful light the long-clos'd sash convey'd;
Where, as he painted every blissful view,      The crawling worm that turns a summer fly,
And highly colour'd what he strongly drew,     Here spun his shroud and laid him up to die
The pensive damsel, prone to tender fears,     The winter-death;-upon the bed of state,
Dimm'd the fair prospect with prophetic tears."    The bat, shrill-shrieking, woo'd his flick'ring mate:
pp. 76, 77. To empty rooms, the curious came no more,
sid  of th. pFrom empty cellars, turn'd the angry poor,
This is the taking side of the. picture: At And surly beggars curs'd the ever-bolted door.
the end of two years, here is the reverse. To one small room the steward found his way,
Nothing can be more touching, we think, than  Where tenants fbllow'd, to complain and pay."
the quiet suffering and solitary hysterics of                                   pp. 104, 105.
this ill-fated young woman:
The old maid follows next to the shades of:
"Lo! now with red rent cloak and bonnet black,  mortality.  The description of her housefur-.
And torn green gown, loose hanging at her back,  niture, and person, is admirable, and affords,
One who an infant in her arms sustains,        a fine specimen of Mr. Crabbe
And seems, with patience, striving with her pains;  fine specimen of Mr. i Crabbes   most minute
Pinch'd are her looks, as one who pines for bread, finishing; but it is too long for extracting. We
Whose cares are growilg, and whose hopes are fled  rather present our readers with a part of the)
Pale her parch'd lips, her heavy eyes sunk low,   character of Isaac Ashford:And tears unnotic'd from their channels flow;
Serene her manner, till some sudden pain       "Next to these ladies, but in nought allied',
Frets the meek soul, and then she's calm again!-  A noble peasant, Isaac Ashford, died.
Her broken pitcher to the pool she takes,      Noble he was-contemning all things mean,
And-every step with cautious terror makes;     His truth unquestion'd, and his soul serene:
For not alone that infant in her arms,         Of no man's presence Isaac felt afraid:
lut nearer cause, maternal fear, alarms!      At no man's question Isaac look'd dismay'd:
With water burden'd, then she picks her way,   Shame knew him not, he dreaded no disgrace," &.
Slowly and cautious, in the clinging clay;     " Were others joyful, he look'd smiling on,
Till in mid-green she trusts a place unsound,  And gave allowance where he needed none;
nd deeply plunges in th' adhesive ground;     Yet far was he from stoic-pride remov'd;
rom  whence her slender foot with pain she He felt, with many, and he warmly lov'd:
takes," &c.                            I mark'd his action, when his infant died,
And now her path, but not her peace, she gains, And an old neighbour for offence was triea;,Safe from her task, but shiv'ring with her pains;-  The still tears, stealing down that furrow'd cheek,'Hler home she reaches, open leaves the door,   Spoke pity, plainer than the tongue can speak," &a.
And placing first her infant on the floor,                                      pp. 111, 112
She bares her bosom to the wind, and sits,
And sobbing struggles with the rising fits!       The rest of the character is drawn with
In vain — they come-she feels th' inflaming grief, equal spirit; but we can only make room for
That shuts the swelling bosom from relief;     the author's final commemoration of him.
That speaks in feeble cries a soul distrest,
Or the sad laugh that cannot be represt;' I feel his absence in the hours of prayer,
The neighbour-matron leaves her wheel, and flies  And view his seat, and sigh for Isaac there!
With all the aid her poverty supplies;         I see, no more, those white locks thinly spread,
Unfee'd, the calls of nature she obeys,        Round the bald polish of that honour'd head;
Nor led by profit, nor allur'd by praise;      No more that awful glance on playful wight,
-And waiting long, till these contentions cease,  Compell'd to kneel and tremble at the sight;
She speaks of comfort, and departs in peace."  To fold his fingers all in dread the w ile,
pp. 77, 78. Till Mr. Ashford soften'd to a smile!
25




866                                     POETRY.
No more that meek, that suppliant look in prayer,   Shone softly-solemn and serene,
Nor that pure faith, that gave it force-are there:-  And all that time I gaz'd away,
But he is blest; and I lament no more,              The setting sun's sad rays were seen."
A wise good man contented to be poor."-p. 114.                                      p. 226.'..             " The Hall of Justice/ or the story of the
We then bury the village midwife, super-                                           
seded in her old age by a volatile doctor; Gipsy Convct, is another experiment of Ir.
seded                                docto.  Cr; abbe's.  It is very nervous-very shocking
then a surly rustic misanthrope; and last of Cabbes. Itis ver    vous —very sockin 
all, the reverend author's ancient sexton-and  very  powerfully  represented.  The
all, the rvrn auhr        tsexton, woman is accused of stealing, and tells her
whose chronicle of his various pastors is given     n i       usd of        ng
rather at too great length.  The poem ends
with a simple recapitulation.                    "My crime! this sick'ning child to feed,
We think this the most important of the           I seiz'd the foodyour witness saw;
new  pieces ill the volume; and have ex-          I knew your laws forbade the deed,
tended our account of it so much, that we can       But yielded to a stronger law!"afford to say but little of the others.  " The    "But I have griefs of other kind,
Library" and "The Newspaper"  are republi-          Troubles and sorrows more severe;
cations.   They are written with a  good  deal     Give me to ease my tortur'd mind,
cations. They are written with a good deal          Lend to my woes a patient ear;
of terseness, sarcasm, and beauty; but the         And let me-if I may not find
subjects are not very interesting, and they will     A friend to help-find one to hear.
rather be approved, we think, than admired    "Mv mother dead, my father lost,
or delighted in. We are not much taken either       l wander'd with a vagrant crew;
with "The Ibirth of Flattery."  With many         A common care, a common cost,
nervous lines and ingenious allusions, it has        Their sorrows and their sins I knew;
something of the languor which seems insep-        With them on want and error forc'd,
arable from  an allegory which exceeds the           Like them, I base and guilty grew!
length of an epigram.                            " So through the land I wand'ring went,
" Sir Eustace Grey" is quite unlike any of        And little found of grief or joy;
e p din  compositions.  It is written in  But lost my bosom's sweet content,
the preceding compositions.  It is written in        When first I lov'd the gypsy boy.
a sort of lyric measure j; and is intended to
represent the perturbed fancies of the most         A sturdy youth heiwas andetall,
His loolks would all his soul declare,
terrible insanity settling by degrees into a       His piercing eyes were deep and small,
sort of devotional enthusiasm. The opening          And strongly curl'd hisraven hair.
stanza, spoken by a visiter in the madhouse,   "Yes, Aaron had each manly charm,
is very striking.                                    All in the May of youthful pride;
He scarcely fear'd his father's arm,
"I'll see no more!-the heart is torn             And every other arm defied.By views of woe we cannot heal;              Oft when they grew in anger warm,
Long shall I see these things forlorn,          (Whom will not love and power divide?)
And oft again their griefs shall feel,       1 rose, their wrathful souls to calm,
As each upon the mind shall steal;             Not yet in sinful combat tried."
That wan projector's mystic style,                                        pp. 240-242.
That lumpish idiot leering by,
That peevish idler's ceaseless wile,         The father felon falls in love with the beAnd that poor maiden's half.form'd smile,   trothed of his son, whom  he despatches on
While struggling for the full-drawn sigh!  some distant errand.  The consummation of
I'll know no more!"-p. 217.             his horrid passion is told in these powerful
There is great force, both of language and  stanzasconception, in the wild narrative Sir Eustace    "The night was dark, the lanes were deep,
gives of his frenzy; though we are not sure          And one by one they took their way;
whether there is not something too elaborate,      He bade me lay me down and sleep!
and too much worked up, in the picture. We           I only wept, and wish'd for day.
give only one image which we think is orig-        Accursed be the love he boreinal.  He supposed himself hurried along by         Accursed was the force he us'dSo let him of his God impZore
two tormenting demons.                               For mercy!-and be so refus'd!"-p. 243.
"Through lands we fled, o'er seas we flew,     It is painful to follow the story out. The
And halted on a boundless plain;         son returns, and privately murders his father;
Where nothing fed, nor breath'd, nor grew,    and then marries his widow! The profligate
But silence rul'd the still domain.      barbarity of the life led by those outcasts is
"Upon that boundless plain, below,           forcibly expressed by the simple narrative of
The setting sun's last rays were shed,   the lines that follow:And gave a mild and sober glow,             1" I brought a lovely daughter forth,
Where all were still, asleep, or dead;        His father's child, in Aaron's bed!
Vast ruins in the midst were spread,           He took her from me in his wrath,
Pillars and pediments sublime,' Where is my child?'-' Thy child is dead.'
Where the grey moss had form'd a bed,
And cloth'd the crumbling spoils of Time.  "'Twas false! We wander'd far and wide,
Through town and country, field and fen,.-' There was I fix'd, I know not how,            Till Aaron fighting, fell and died,
Condemn'd for untold years to stay;           And I became a wife again."-p. 248.
Yet years were not;-one dreadful now,
Endur'd no change of night or day;         We have not room to give the sequel of this
The same mild evening's sleeping ray       dreadful ballad.  It certainly is not pleasing




CRABBE'S BOROUGH.                                387
reaallg; but it is written with very unusual enough to pass judgment on her future propower of language, and shos M:-. Crabbe to geny: But we trust, that a larger portion of
have great mastery over the tragic passions of public favour than has hitherto been dealt to
pity and horror. The volume closes with some him will encourage him to greater efforts; and
verses of no great value in praise of Women. that he will soon appear again among the
We part with regret from Mr. Crabbe; but worthy supporters of the old poetical estabwe hope to meet with him again. If his muse, lishfnent, and come in time to surpass the
to be sure, is prolific only once in twenty-four revolutionists in fast firing, as well as in weight
years, we can scarcely expect to live long of metal.
(2 fpril, 1810.)
The Borough: a Poem, in Twenty-four Letters. By the Rev. GEORGE CRABBE, LL. B.
8vo. pp. 344. London: 1810.
WE are very glad to meet with Mr. Crabbe by far the greater part of his poetry is of a
so soon again; and particularly glad to find, that different and a higher character; and aims
his early return has been occasioned, in part, at moving or delighting us by lively, touchby the encouragement he received on his last ing, and finely contrasted representations of
appearance. This late spring of public favour, the dispositions, sufferings, and occupations
we hope, he will yet live to see ripen into ma- of those ordinary persons who form the far
ture fame. We scarcely know any poet who greater part of our fellow-creatures. This,
deserves it better; and are quite certain there too, he has sought to effect. merely by placing
is none who is more secure of keeping with before us the clearest, most brief, and most
posterity whatever he may win from his con- striking sketches of their external conditiontemporaries.                              the most sagacious and unexpected strokes
The present poem is precisely of the char- of character-and the truest and most pathetic
acter of The Village and The Parish Register. pictures of natural feeling and common suffer,
It has the same peculiarities, and the same ing. By the mere force of his art, and the
faults and beauties; though a severe critic novelty of his style, he forces us to attend
might perhaps add, that its peculiarities are to objects that are usually neglected, and to
more obtrusive, its faults greater, and its beau- enter into feelings from which we are in geneties less. However that be, both faults and ral but too eager to escape;.-and then trusts
beauties are so plainly produced by the pe- to nature for the effect of the representation.
culiarity, that it may be worth while, before   It is obvious, at first sight, that this is not a
giving any more particular account of it, to try task for an ordinary hand; and that many inif we can ascertain in what that consists.  genious writers, who make a very good figure
And here we shall very speedily discover, with battles, nymphs, and moonlight landthat Mr. Crabbe is distinguished from all other scapes, would find themselves quite helpless
poets, both by the choice of his subjects, and if set down among streets, harbours, and
by his manner of treating them. All his per. taverns. The difficulty of such subjects, in
sons are taken from the lower ranks of life; short, is sufficiently visible —and some of
and all his scenery from the most ordinary  the causes of that difficulty: But they have
and familiar objects of nature or art. His' their advantages also; —and of these, and
characters and incidents, too, are as common their hazards, it seems natural to say a few
as the elements out of which they are com- words, before entering more minutely into the
pounded are humble; and not only has he merits of the work before us.
nothing prodigious or astonishing in any of   The first great advantage of such familial
his representations, but he has not even at- subjects is, that every one is necessarily webl
tempted to impart any of the ordinary colours acquainted with the originals; and is there.
of poetry to those vulgar materials. He has fore sure to feel all that pleasure, from a
no moralising swains or sentimental trades- faithful representation of them, which results
men; and scarcely ever seeks to charm us by from the perception of a perfect and successthe artless graces or lowly virtues of his per- ful imitation. In the kindred art of painting:
sonages. On the contrary, he has represented we find that this single consideration has been
his villagers and humble burghers as alto- sufficient to stamp a very high value upon
gether as dissipated, and more dishonest and accurate and lively delineations of objects, in
discontented than the profligates of higher themselves uninteresting, and even disagree
life; and, instead of conducting us through able; and no very inconsiderable part of the
blooming groves and pastoral meadows, has pleasure which may be derived from  Mr'ed us along filthy lanes and crowded wharfs, Crabbe's poetry may probably be referred to
to hospitals, alms-houses, and gin-shops. In its mere truth and fidelity; and to the brevity
some of these delineations, he may be con- and clearness with whicih he sets before his
sidered as the Satirist of low life-an occupa- readers, objects and characters with which
tion sufficiently arduous, and, in a great de- they have been all their days familiar.
gree, new and original in our language. But   In hi# happier passages, however, he has a




388                                  POETRY.
higher merit, and imparts a far higher grati- ors, ploughmen, and artificers. If the poet
fication. The chief delight of poetry consists, can contrive, therefore, to create a sufficient
not so much in what it directly supplies to interest in subjects like these, they will infal
the imagination, as in what it enables it to libly sink deeper into the mind, and be more
supply to itself;-not in warming the heart prolific of kindred trains of emotion, than sub.
by its passing brightness, but in kindling its jects of greater dignity. Nor is the difficulty
own latent stores of light and heat;-not in of exciting such an interest by any means so
hurrying the fancy along by a foreign and ac- great as is generally imagined. For it is
cidental impulse, but in setting it agoing, by common human nature, and common human
touching its internal springs and principles of feelings, after all, that form the true source
activity. Now, this highest and most delight- of interest in poetry of every description;ful effect can only be produced by the poet's and the splendour and the marvels by which
striking a note to which the heart and the affec- it is sometimes surrounded, serve no othei
tions naturally vibrate in unison;-by rousing purpose than to fix our attention on those
one of a large family of kindred impressions;-  workings of the heart, and those energies of
by dropping the rich seed of his fancy upon the the understanding, which alone command all
fertileand sheltered places of the imagination. the genuine sympathies of human beingsBut it is evident, that the emotions connected and which may be found as abundantly in the
with common and familiar objects-with ob- breasts of cottagers as of kings. Wherever
jects which fifl every man's memory, and are there are human beings, therefore, with feel
necessarily associated with all that he has ings and characters to be represented, our at
ever really felt or fancied, are of all others tention may be fixed by the art of the poetthe most likely to answerthis description, and by his judicious selection of circumstances-..
to produce, where they-can be raised to a suf- by the' force and vivacity of his style, and the
ficient height, this great effect in its utmost clearness and brevity of his representations
perfection. It is for this reason that the images   In point of fact, we are all touched more
and affections that belong to our universal na- deeply, as well as more frequently, in real
ture, are always, if tolerably represented, in- life, with the sufferings of peasants than of
finitely more captivating, in spite of their princes; and sympathise much oftener, and
apparent commonness and simplicity, than more heartily, with the successes of the poor,
those that are peculiar to certain situations, than of the rich and distinguished. The oc.
however they may come recommended by casions of such feelings are indeed so many,
novelty or grandeur. The familiar feeling of and so common, that they do not often leave
maternal tenderness and anxiety, which is any very permanent traces behind them. but
every day before our eyes, even in the brute pass away, and are effaced by the very rapidity
creation-and the enchantment of youthful of their succession. The business and the
love, which is nearly the same in all charac- cares, and the pride of the world, obstruct the
ters, ranks, and situations-still contribute far development of the emotions to which they
more to the beauty and interest of poetry than would naturally give rise; and press so close
all the misfortunes of princes, the jealousies of and thick upon the mind, as to shut it, at most
heroes, and the feats of giants, magicians, or seasons, against the reflections that are per~.
ladies in armour. Every one can enter into petually seeking for admission. When we
the former set of feelings; and but a few  have leisure however, to look quietly into oul
int6 the latter. The one calls up a thousand hearts, we shall find in them an infinite mulfamiliar and long-remembered  emotions- titude of little fragments of sympathy with
which are answered and reflected on every our brethren in humble life-abootive moveside by the kindred impressions which ex- ments of compassion, and embryos ofkindness
perence or observation have traced upon and concern, which had once fairly begun to
every memory: while the other lights up but live and germinate within them, though with.
a transient and unfruitful blaze, and passes ered and broken off by the selfish bustle and
away without perpetuating itself in any kin- fever of our daily occupatibns. Now, all these
dred and native sensation.                may be revived and carried on to maturity by
Now, the delineation of all that concerns the art of the poet;-and, therefore, a powerthe lower and most numerous classes of so- ful effort to interest us in the feelings of the
ciety, is, in this respect, on a footing with the humble and obscure, will usually call forth
pictures of our primary affections-that their more deep, more numerous, and more permaoriginals are necessarily familiar to all men, nent emotions, than can ever be excited by
and are inseparably associated with their own the fate of princesses and heroes. Indepenmost interesting impressions. Whatevermay dent of the circumstances to which we have
be our own condition, we all live surrounded already alluded, there are causes which make
with the poor, from infancy to age;- we hear us at all times more ready to enter into the
daily of their sufferings and misfortunes;-  feelings of the humble, than of the exalted
and their toils, their crimes, or their pastimes, part of our species. Our sympathy with their
are our hourly spectacle.  Many diligent enjoyments is enhanced by a certain mixture
readers of poetry know little, by their own of pity for their general condition, which, by
experience, of palaces, castles, or camps; and purifying it from that taint of envy which alstill less of tyrants, warriors, and banditti; —  most always adheres to our admiration of the
but every one understands about cottages, great, renders it more welcome and satisfacstreets, and villages; and conceives, pretty tory to our bosoms; while our concern for theiu
correctly, the character and condition of sail- sufferings is at once softened and endeared to




CRABBE'S BOROUGH.                                  389
as, by the recollection of our own exemption and anatomical precision; and must make
from  them, ard by the feeling. that we fre- both himself and his readers familiar with the
iluently have i, in our power to relieve them. ordinary traits and general family features of
From these, and from other causes, it ap- the beings among whom they are to move, bepears to us to be certain, that where subjects, fore they can either understand, or take much
taken from humble life, can be made suffi- interest in the individuals who are to engross
ciently interesting to overcome the distaste their attention. Thus far, there is no excess
and the prejudices with which the usages of or unnecessary minuteness. But this faculty
polished society too generally lead us to re-1 of observation, and this power of description)
gard them, the interest which they excite will hold out great temptations to go further.
commonly be more profound and more lasting There is a pride and a delight in the exercise
than any that can be raised upon loftier of all peculiar power; and the poet, who has
themes; and the poet of the Village and the learned to describe external objects exquiBorough be oftener; and longer read, than the sitely, with a view to heighten the effect of
poet of the Court or the Camp. The most his moral designs, and to draw  characters
popular passages of Shakespeare and Cowper, with accuracy, to help forward the interest or
we think, are of this description: and there is the pathos of the picture, will be in great danmuch, both in the -volume before us, and in ger of describing scenes, and drawing charMr. Crabbe's former publications, to which acters, for no other purpose, but to indulge his
we might now venture to refer, as proofs of taste, and to display his talents. It cannot be
the same doctrine. When such representa- denied, we think, that Mr. Crabbe has, on
tions have once made an impression on the many occasions, yielded to this temptation.
imagination, they are remembered daily, and He is led away, every now and then, by his
for ever. We can neither look around, nor lively conception of external objects, and by
within us, without being reminded of their his nice and sagacious observation of human
truth and their importance; a'nd, while the character; and wantons and luxuriates in demore brilliant effusions of romantic fancy are scriptions and moral portrait painting, while
recalled only at long intervals, and in rare his readers are left to wonder to what end so
situations, we feel that we cannot walk a step much industry has been exerted.
from our own doors, nor cast a glance back on   His chief fault, however, is his frequent
our departed years, without being indebted to  lapse into disgusting representations;. and
the poet of vulgar life for some striking image Ithis, we will confess, is an error for which we
or touching reflection, of which the occasions find it far more difficult either to account or
were always before us, but-till he taught us to apologise.  We are not, however, of the
how to improve them-were almost always opinion which we have often heard stated,
allowed to escape.                         that he has represented human nature under
Such, we conceive, are some of the advan- too unfavourable an aspect; or that the distages of the subjects which Mr. Crabbe has taste which his poetry sometimes produces,
in a great measure introduced into modern is owing merely to the painful nature of the
poetry;-and such the grounds upon which scenes and subjects with which it abounds.
we venture to predict the durability of the On the contrary, we think he has given a justreputation which he is in the course of ac- er, as well as a more striking picture, of the
quiring. That they have their disadvantages true character and situation of the lower or
also, is obvious; and it is no less obvious, that ders of this country, than any other writer,
it is to these we must ascribe the greater part whether in verse or in prose; and that he has
of the faults and deformities with which this made no more use of painful emotions than
author is fairly chargeable. /The two greatf was necessary to the production of a pathetic
errors into which he has fallen, are-that he effect.
has described many things not worth describ-   All powerful and pathetic poetry, it is ob.
ing;-and that he has frequently excited dis- vious, abounds in images of distress. The
gust, instead of pity or indignation, in the delight which it bestows partakes strongly of
breasts of his readers.' These faults are ob- pain; and, by a sort of contradiction, which
vious-and, we believe, are popularly laid to has long engaged the attention of the reflecthis charge: Yet there is, in so far as we have ing, the compositions that attract us most
observed, a degree of misconception as to the powerfully, and detain us the longest, are
true grounds and limits of the charge, which those that produce in ILs most of the effects of
we think it worth while to take this opportu- actual suffering and wretchedness. The sonity of correcting.                        lution of this paradox is to be found, we think,.
The poet of humble life must describe a in the simple fact, that pain is a far Stronger
great deal-and must even describe, minutely, sensation than pleasure, in human existence;:
many things which possess in themselves no and that the cardinal virtue of all things that
beauty or grandeur. The reader's fancy must are intended to delight the mind, is to produce
be awaked-and the power of his own pencil a strong sensation. Life itself appears to condisplayed:-a distinct locality and imaginary sist in sensation; and the universal passion
reality must be given to his characters and of all beings that have life, seems to be; that
agents: and the ground colour of their com- they should be made intensely conscious of
mon condition must be laid in, before his pe- it, by a succession of powerful and engrossing
culiar and selected groups can be presented emotions. All the mere gratifications or natu
with any effect or advantage. In the same ral pleasures that are in the power even of the
way, he must study characters with a minute most fortunate, are quite insufficient to fill this




390                                  POETRY.
vast oraving for sensation: And accordingly, Crabbe, to his condemnation.  Every form of
we see every day, that a more violent stimu- distress, whether it proceed from passion ol
lus is sought for by those who have attained from fortune, and whether it fall upon vice ol
the vulgar heights of life, in the pains and virtue, adds to the interest and the charm of
dangers.f war-the agonies of gaming-or.poetry-except only that which is connected
the feverish toils of ambition. To those who with ideas of Disgust-the least taint of which
have tasted of those potent cups, where the {disenchants the whole scene, and puts an end
bitter, however, so obviously predominates, both to delight and sympathy. But what is
the security, the comforts, and what are call- it, it may be asked, that is the proper object
ed the enjoyments of common life, are intol- of disgust'? and what is the precise descriperably insipid and disgusting. Nay, we think tion of things which we think Mr. Crabbe so
we have observed, that even those who, with- inexcusable for admitting? It is not easy to
out any effort or exertion, have experienced define a term at once so simple and so signifiunusual misery, frequently appear, in like cant; but it may not be without its use, to
manner, to acquire a sort of taste or craving indicate, in a general way, our conception of'
for it; and come to look on the tranquillity of its true force and comprehension.
ordinary life with a kind of indifference not   It is needless, we suppose, to explain what
unmingled with contempt. It is certain, at are the objects of disgust in physical or exterleast, that they dwell with most apparent satis- nal existences. These are sufficiently plain and
faction on the memory of those days, which unequivocal; and it is universally admitted,
have been marked by the deepest and most that all mention of them must be carefully exagonising sorrows; and derive a certain de- cluded from every poetical description. With
light from the recollections of those over- regard, again, to human character, action, and
whelming sensations which once occasioned feeling, we should be inclined to term every
so fierce a throb in the languishing pulse of thing disgusting, which represented misery,
their existence.                          without making any appeal to our love, resIf any thing of this kind, however, can be pect, or admiration. If the suffering person
traced in real life-if the passion for emotion be amiable, the delightful feeling of love and
be so strong as to carry us, not in imagination, affection tempers. the pain which the contembut in reality, over the rough edge of present plation of suffering has a tendency to excite,
pain-it will not be difficult to explain, why it and enhances it into the stronger, and thereshould be so attractive in the copies and fic- fore more attractive sensation of ity. If
tions of poetry. There, as in real life, the there be great power or energy, Fowever,
great demand is for emotion; while the pain united to guilt or wretchedness, the mixture
with which it may be attended, can scarcely. of admiration exalts the emotion into someby any possibility, exceed the limits of en- thing that is sublime and pleasing: and even
durance. The recollection, that it is but a in cases of mean and atrocious, but efficient
copy and a fiction, is quite sufficient to keep it guilt, our sympathy with the victims upon
down to a moderate temperature, and to make whom it ispractised, and our active indignation
it welcome as the sign or the harbinger of that and desire of vengeance, reconcile us to the
agitation of which the soul is avaricious. It humiliating display, and make a compound
is not, then, from any peculiar quality in pain- that, upon the whole, is productive of pleasure.
ful emotions that they become capable of   The only sufferers, then, upon whom we
affording the delight which attends them in cannot bear to look, are those that excite pain
tragic or pathetic poetry-but merely from the by their wretchedness, while they are too decircumstance of their being more intense and praved to be the objects of affection, and too
powerful than any other emotions of which weak and insignificant to be the causes of
the mind is susceptible. If it was the consti- misery to others, or, consequently, of indignatution of our nature to feel joy as keenly, or to tion to the spectators. Such are the depraved,
sympathise with it as heartily as we do with abject, diseased, and neglected poor-creasorrow, we have no doubt that no other sensa- tures in whom every thing amiable or restion would ever be intentionally excited by pectable has been extinguished by sordid pasthe artists that minister to delight. But the sions or brutal debauchery; —who have no
fact is, that the pleasures of which we are ca- means of doing the mischief of which they
pable are slight and feeble compared with the are capable —whom  every one despises, and
pains that we may endure; and that, feeble no one can either love or fear. On the charas they are, the sympathy which they excite acters, the miseries, and the vices of such
falls much more short of the original emotion. beings, we look with disgust merely: and,
When the object, therefore, is to obtain sen- though it may perhaps serve some moral pursation, there can be no doubt to which of the pose, occasionally to set before us this humitwo fountains we should repair; and if there liating spectacle of human nature sunk to
be but few pains in real life which are not, in utter worthlessness and insignificance, it is
some measure, endeared to us by the emo- altogether in vain to think of exciting either
tions with which they are attended, we may pity or horror, by the truest and most forcible
be pretty sure, that the more distress we in- representations of their sufferings or their
troduce into poetry, the more we shall rivet enormities. They have no hold upon any of
the attention and attract the admiration of the the feelings that lead us to take an interest in
reader.                                   our fellow-creatures;-we turn away from
There is but one exception to this rule-  them, therefore, with loathing and dispassion.
and it brings us back from the apology of Mr. ate aversion;-we feel our imaginations pol




CRABBE'S BOROUGH.                                    391
luted by the intrusion of any images con- altogether of a succession of unconneted
nected with them; and are offended and descriptions, and is still more miscellaneous
disgusted when we are forced to look closely in reality, than would be conjectured fromr the
upon those festering heaps of moral filth and titles of its twenty-four separate compartcorruption.                                   ments.  As it does not admit of analysis,
It is with concern we add, that we know no therefore, or even of a much more particular
writer who has sinned so deeply in this re- description, we can only give our readers a
spect as Mr. Crabbe —who has so often pre- just idea of its execution. by extracting a
sented us with spectacles which it is purely few of the passages that appear to us most
painful and degrading to contemplate, and  characteristic in each of the many styles it
bestowed such powers of conception and ex- exhibits.
pression in giving us distinct ideas of what   One of the first that strikes us, is the
we must ever abhor to remember.  If Mr. following very toucting and beautiful picture
Crabbe had been a person of ordinary talents. of innocent love, misfortune and resignationwe might have accounted for his error, in all of them taking a tinge of additional sweetsome degree, by supposing, that his frequent ness and tenderness from  the humble consuccess in treating of subjects which had been dition of the parties; and thus affording a
usually rejected by other poets, had at length  striking illustration of the remarks we have
led him to disregard, altogether, the common ventured to make on the advantages of such
impressions of mankind as to what was allow- subjects.  The passage occurs in the second
able and what inadmissible in poetry; and to letter, where the author has been surveying,
reckon the unalterable laws by which nature with a glance half pensive and half sarcastihas regulated our sympathies, among the cal, the monuments erected in the churchyard.
prejudices by which they were shackled and  He then proceeds:impaired. It is difficult, however, to conceive
how a writer of his quick and exact observa-   "Yes! there are real Mourners-I have seen
tion should have failed to perceive, that there A fair sad Girl, mild, suffering, and serene;
is not a single instance of a serious interest' Attention (through the day) her duties claim'd,
being excited by an object of disgust; and And to be useful as resign'd she aim'd;
being excited by an object of disg'ut; and  Neatly she dress'd, nor vainly seem'd t' expect
that Shakespeare himself, who has ventured  Pity for grief, or pardon for neglect;
every thing, has never ventured to shock our But when her wearied Parents stink to sleep,
feelings with the crimes or the sufferings of She sought this place to meditate and weep;
beings absolutely without power or principle. Then to her mind was all the past display'd
ndependent of universal practice, too it is'That faithful Memory brings to Sorrow's aid:
n e  For then she thought on one regretted Youth,
still more difficult to conceive how he should  Her tender trust, and his unquestion'd truth;
have overlooked the reason on which this In ev'rv place she wander'd, where they'd been,
practice is founded; for though it be gener- And sadly-sacred held the parting-scene
ally true, thwpoetical representations of suf- Where last for sea he took his leave;-that place
fering and of guilt produce emotion, and con- With double interest would she nightly trace," &e.
sequently delight, yet it certainly'did not   "Happy he sail'd; and great the care she took,
That he should softly sleep, and smartly look;
require the penetration of Mr. Crabbe to dis- White was his better linen, and his check
cover, that there is a degree of depravity  Was made more trim than any on the deck;
which counteracts our sympathy with suffer- And every comfort Men at Sea can know,
ing, and a degree of insignificance which ex- Was hers to buy, to make, and to bestow:
tinguishes our interest in guilt.  We abstain  For he to Greenland sail'd, and much she told,
from  gvg  any extracts in support of this How he should guard against the climate's cold;
from  giving any extracts in support of this Yet saw not danger; dangers he'd withstood,
accusation; but those who have perused the Nor could she trace the Fever in his blood:
volume before us, will have already recol- His Messmates smil'd at flushings in his cheek,
lected the story of Frederic Thompson, of And he too smil'd, but seldom would he speak;
Abel Keene, of Blaney, of Benbow, and a For now he found the danger, felt the pain,
good part of those of Grimes and Ellen Orford  With grievous symptoms he could not explain.
" He call'd his friend, and prefac'd with a sigh
— besides many shorter passages.  It is now  A Lover's message-' Thomas! I must die!
time, however, to give the reader a more  Would I could see my Sally! and could rest
particular account of the work which contains My throbbing temples on her faithful breast,
them.                                         And gazing go!-if not, this trifle take,
The Borough of Mr. Crabbe, then, is a And say till death, I wore it for her sake:
etailed and minute account of a  ancient Yes! I must die! blow on, sweet breeze, blow on,
detailed and minute account of ail ancient Give me one look, before my life be gone,
English sea-port town, of the middling order; Oh! give me that! and let me not despaircontaining a series of pictures of its scenery, One last fond look!-and now repeat the prayer.'
and of the different classes and occupations   "He had his wish; had more; I will not paint
of its inhabitants. It is thrown into the form  The Lover's meeting: she beheld him faintof letters, thoqgh withqut any attempt at the With tender fears, she took a nearer view,
Her terrors doubling as her hopes withdrew;
epistolary character; and treats of the vicar He tried to smile, and, half succeeding, said,
and curate-the sectaries-the attornies-the'Yes! I must die;-and hope for ever fled!
apothecaries; and the inns, clubs, and stroll-   "Still long she nurs'd him; tender thoughts
ing-players, that make a figure in the placq:        meantime
-but more particularly of the poor, and their Were interchang'd, and hopes and views sublime.
To her he came to die; and'every day
haraters, and treatment; and of almshouses, n  She took some portion of the dread away 
prisons, and schools. There is, of course, no  With him she pray'd, to him his Bible read,
unity or method in the poem-which consists Sooth'd the faint heart, and held the aching head:




392                                      POETRY.
She came with smiles the hour of pain to cheer;   The hours of innocence;-the timid look
Apart she sigh'd; alone, she shed the tear;    Of his lov'd maid, when first her hand he took
Then, as if breaking from a cloud, she gave    And told his hope; her trembling joy appears,
Fresh light, ald gilt the prospect of the grave.  Her forc'd reserve, and his retreating fears.
"One day he lighter seem'd, and they forgot    "Yes! all are with him now, and all the while
The care, the dread, the anguish of their lot;  Life's early prospects and his Fanny smile:
They spoke with cheerfulness. and seem'd to think, Then come his sister and his village friend,
Yet said not so-' perhaps he will not sink.'   And he will now the sweetest moments spend
A sudden brightness in his look appear'd,-     Life has to yield: —No! never will he find
A sudden vigour in his voice was heard;        Again on earth such pleasure in his mind. [among,
She had been reading in the Book of Prayer,    He goes through shrubby walks these friene
And led him forth, and plac'd him in his chair;    Love in their looks and pleasure on the tongue.
Lively he seem'd, and spoke of all he knew,    Pierc'd by no crime, and urg'd by no desire
The friendly many, and the favourite few;      For more than true and honest hearts require,
Nor one that day did he to mind recall,        They feel the calm delight, and thus proceed
But she has treasur'd, and she loves them all;  Through the green lane,-then linger in the mead,When in her way she meets them, they appear    Stray o'er the heath in all its purple bloom,
Peculiar people-death has made them dear!      And pluck the blossom where the wild-bees hum;
He nam'd his friend, but then his hand she prest,   Then through the broomy bound with ease they
And fondly whisper'd,' Thou must go to rest.'         pass,'I go!' he said; but, as he spoke, she found   And press the sandy sheep-walk's slender grass,
His harrd more cold, and flutt'ring was the sound;  Where dwarfish flowers among the gorse arespread,
Then gaz'd affrighten'd; but she caught at last    And the lamb bronzes by the linnet's bed!    [way
A dying look of love-and all was past.-       Then'cross the bounding brook they make their
" She plac'd a decent stone his grave above,  O'er its rough bridge-and there behold the bay!Neatly engrav'd-an offering of her Love;       The ocean smiling to the fervid sunFor that she wrought, for that forsook her bed,    The waves that faintly fall and slowly runAwake alike to duty and the dead;              The ships at distance, and the boats at hand:
She would have griev'd, had friends presum'd to And now they walk upon the sea-side sand,
spare                                  Counting the number, and what kind they be,
The least assistance-'twas her proper care.    Ships softly sinking in the sleepy sea:
" Here will she come, and on the grave will sit,  Now arm in arm, now parted, they behold
Folding her arms, in long abstracted fit;      The glitt'ringt waters on the shingles roll'd:
But if observer pass, will take her round,     The timid girls, half dreading their design,
And careless seem, for she would not be found;   Dip the small foot in the retarded brine,
Then come again, and thus her hour employ,     And search for crimson weeds, which spreading
While visions please her, and while woes destroy."  Or lie like pictures on the sand below;  [flow,
pp. 23-27.   With all those bright red pebbles, that the sun
Through the small waves so softly shines upon 
There is a passage in the same tone, in the  And those live lucid jellies which the eye
letter on Prisons.  It describes the dream of Delights to trace as they swim glitt'ring by:
a felon under sentence of death; and though  Pearl-shells and rubied star-fish they admire,
the exquisite  accuracy and beauty of thte  And will arrange above the parlour fire —
landscape painting are such as must have  Tokens of bliss!"-pp.323-326.
recommended it to notice in poetry of any    If these extracts do not make the reader
order, it seems to us to derive an uspeakable  feel how deep and peculiar an interest ma
charm from the lowly simplicity and humble be excited by humble subjects, we shoul
content of the characters-at least we can- almost despair of bringing him  over to our
not conceive any walk of ladies and gentlemn       in, even by Mr. Crabbe's inimitable dethat should furnish out so sweet a picture as scription and pathetic pleading for the parish
terminates the following extract.  It is only  poor. The subject is one of those, which to
doing Mr. Crabbe justice to present along many will appear repulsive  and  to some
with it a part of the dark foreground which  fastidious natures perhaps disgusting.  Yet,
he has drawn, in the waking existence of the  if the most admirable painting of external
poor dreamer.                                  objects-the most minute and thorough knowledge of human character-and that warm
" When first I came     glow of active and rational benevolence which
Within his view, I fancied there was shame,    lends a guiding light to observation, and an
iudg'd Resentment; I mistook the air-         enchantino colourn
These fainter passions live not with Despair;                        eloquence, can entitle a
Or but exist and die:-Hope, Fear and Love,     poet to praise, as they do entitle him to more
Joy, Doubt, and Hate, may other spirits move,    substantial rewards, we are persuaded that
But t3uch not his, who every waking hour       the following passage will not be speedily
Has one fix'd dread, and always feels its power.   forgotten.
He takes his tasteless food; and, when'tis done,
Counts up his meals, now lessen'd by that one;   " Your plan I love not:-with a number you
For Expectation is on Time intent,             Have plac'd your poor, your pitiable few;
Whether he brings us Joy or Punishment.        There, in one house, for all their lives to be,
" Yes! e'en in sleep th' impressions all remain; The pauper-palace, which they hate to see!
He hears the sentence, and he feels the chain;  That giant building, that high bounding wall,
He seems the place for that sad act to see,    Those bare-worn walks, that lofty thund'ring hall'
And dreams the very thirst which then will be!    That large loud clock, which tolls each dreaded
A priest attends-it seems the one he knew              hour,
In his best days, beneath whose care he grew.  Those gates and locks, and all those signs of power:
" At this his terrors take a sudden flight-  It is a prison, with a milder name,
He sees his native village with delight;       Which few inhabit without dread or shame."The house, the chamber, where he once array'd    "Alas! their sorrows in their bosoms dwell,
His youthful person: where he knelt and pray'd:  They've much to suffer, but have nought to tell
Then too the comforts he enjoy'd at home,      They have no evil in the place to state.
The days of joy; the joys themselves are come;-  And care not say, it is the house they nate:




CRABBE'S BOROUGH.                                      393
fhy own there's granted all such place can give,  To gain the plaudits of the knowing few,
But live repining,-for'tis there they live!  [see, Gamblers and grooms, what wouid not Blaney;' Grandsires are there, who now no more must        do?"No more must nurse upon the trembling knee,      " Cruel he was not.-If he left his wife,'rhe lost lov'd daughter's infant progeny!    He left her to her own pursuits in life;
Like death's dread mansion, this allows not place  Deaf to reports, to all expenses blind,
For joyful meetings of a kindred race.         Profuse, not just-and careless but not kind."
Is not the matron there, to whom the son                                   pp. 193, 194.
Was wont at each declining day to run;
He (when his toil was over) gave delight,        Clelia is another worthless character, drawn
3y lifting up the latch, and one' Good night?'  with infinite spirit, and a thorough knowledge
Yes. she is here; but nightly to her door      of human nature. She began life as a sprightThe son, still lab'ring, can return no more.
" Widows are here, who in their huts were left, ly  taking, flirting grl, who passed for a wit
Of husbands, children, plenty, ease, bereft         a beauty                   circles of the
Yet all that grief within the humble shed      borough; and who, in laying herself out to
Was soften'd, soften'd in the humbled bed:     entrap a youth of better condition, unfortuBut here, in all its force, remains the grief,  nately fell a victim  to his superior art, and
And not one soft'ning object for relief.       forfeited her place in society.  She then be" Who can, when here, the social neighbour came the smart mistress of a dashing attorWho learn the story current in the street? [meet?                         a 
Who to the long-known intimate impart          ney-then tried to teach a school —lived as
Facts they have learn'd, or feelings of the heart?-  the favourite of an innkeeper-let lodgingsThey talk, indeed; but who can choose a friend,   wrote novels-set up a toyshop-and, finally,
Or seek companions, at their journey's end?"-   was admitted into the almshouse.  There is
" What, if no grievous fears their lives annoy,   nothing very interesting perhaps in such a
Is it not worse, no prospects to enjoy         st?'Tis cheerless living in such bounded view,     tory; but the details of it show the wonderful
With nothing dreadful, but with nothing new;   accuracy of the author's observation of char
Nothing to bring them joy, to make them weep-  acter; and give it, and many of his other
The day itself is, like the night, asleep;     pieces, a value of the same kind that some
Or on the sameness, if a break be made,        pictures are thought to derive from the truth
Byi by some  pauper to his grave convey'd;     and minuteness of the anatomy which they
By smuggled news from neighb'ring village toldT
News never true, or truth a twelvemonthold'    display.  There is something original, too,
By some new inmate doom'd with them to dwell,  and well conceived, in the tenacity with which
Or justice come to see that all goes well;     he represents this frivolous person, as adOr chanlge of room, or hour of leave to crawl  hering to her paltry characteristics, under
On the black footway winding with the wall,    every change of circumstances.  The con-'Till the stern bell forbids, or master's sterner call. cluding view is as follows.
" Here the good pauper, loosing all the praise
fBy worthy deeds acquir'd in better days,       " Now friendless, sick, and old, and wanting bread,
Breathes a few months; then, to his chamber led, The first-born tears of fallen pride were shedExpires-while strangers prattle round his bed."-   True, bitter tears; and yet that wounded pride,
pp. 241-244.   Among the poor, for poor distinctions sigh'd!
These we take to be specimens of Mr. Though now her tales were to her audience fit;
Crabbes best style;but he has great variety, Tough loud her tones, and vulgar grown her wit;
Crabbe's best style; —but he has great variety; Though now her dress-(but let me not explain
-and some readers may be better pleased  The piteous patchwork of the needy vain,
with his satirical vein-which is both copious The flirvish fbrm to coarse materials lent,
and original.  The Vicar is an admirable  And one poor robe through fifty fashions sent);
sketch of what must be very difficult to draw; Though all within was sad, without was meant-a good, easy man, with no character at all. Still'twas her wish, her comfort to be seen:
His little humble vanity;-his constant care  She would to plays on lowest terms resort,
His little, humble vanity;-hisconstant Where once her box was to the beaux a court;
to offend no one; —his mawkish and feeble  And, strange delight! to that same house, where
gallantry-indolent good nature, and love of  Join'd in the dance, all gaiety and glee,   [she
gossipping and trifling-are all very exactly, Now with the menials crowding to the wall,
and very pleasingly delineated.                She'd see, not share, the pleasures of the ball,
andverypleasinglydelineated.  And with degraded vanity unfold,
To the character of Blaney, we have already  How she too triumph'd  in the years of old."
How she too triumph'd in the years of old."
objected, as offensive, from  its extreme and                                   pp209,210.
impotent depravity.. The first part of his
history, however, is sketched with a masterly    The graphic powers of Mr. Crabbe, indeed,
hand; and affords a good specimen of that are too frequently wasted on unworthy sub.
sententious and antithetical manner by which jects.  There is not, perhaps, in all English
Mr. Crabbe sometimes reminds us of the style  poetry a more complete and highly finished
and versification of Pope.                     piece of painting, than the following description of a vast old boarded room or warehouse,
" Blaney, a wealthy heir at twrenty-one,     which was let out, it seems, in the borough,
At twenty-five was ruin'd aen~d undeoswneed:  as a kind of undivided lodging, for beggars
These years with grievous crimes we need not load, and vagabonds of every description. No Dutch
He found his ruin in the common road;
Gam'd without skill, without inquiry bought,   painter ever presented an interior more disLent without love, and borrow'd without thought.  tinctly to the eye; or ever gave half such a
But, gay and handsome, he had soon the dower    group to the imagination.
Of a kind wealthy widow in his power;
Ther he aspir'd to loftier flights of vice!     "That window view!-oil'd paper and old glass
To singing harlots of enormous price:          Stain the strong rays, which, though impeded, pass,
And took a jockey in his gig to buy            And give a dusty warmth to that huge room,
An horse, so valued, that a duke was shy:      The conquer'd sunshine's melancholy gloom;




394                                      POETRI
When all those western rays, without so bright,    The dark warm flood ran silently and slow;
Within become a ghastly glimm'ring light,       There anchoring, Peter chose from man to hide
As pale and faint upon the floor they fall,     There hang his head, and view the lazy tide
Or feebly gleam on the opposing wall:          In its hot slimy channel slowly glide;
T!hat floor, once oak, now piec'd with fir unplan'd, Where the small eels that left the deeper way
Or, where not piec'd, in places bor'd and stain'd;  For the warm shore, within the shallows play,
That wall once whiten'd, now an odious sight,   Where gaping muscles, left upon the mud,
Stain'd with all hues, except its ancient white.  Slope their slow passage to the fallen flood;" Where'er the floor allows an even space,   Here dull and hopeless he'd lie down and trace
Chalking and marks of various games have place;  How sidelong crabs had scrawl'd their crooked race;
Boys, without foresight, pleas'd ia halters swing!  Or sadly listen to the tuneless cry
On a fix'd hook men cast a flying ring;        Of fishing Gull or clanging Golden Eye."
While gin and snuff their female neighbours share,                              pp. 305, 306.
And the black beverage in the fractur'd ware.     Under the head of Amusements, we have a
On swinging shelf are things incongruous stor'd; Under the head of Amusements, we have a
Scraps of their food-the cards and cribbage board-  spirited account of the danger and escape of
With pipes and pouches; while on peg below,    a party of pleasure, who landed, in a fine
Hang a lost member's fiddle and its bow:       evening, on a low  sandy island, which was
That still reminds them how he'd dance and play,  covered with the tide at high water, and were
ere by a curtain, by a blanketto   the re, Convict's Bayleft upon it by the drifting away of their boat.
"Here by a curtain, by a blanket there,
Are various beds conceal'd, but none with care;    "On the bright sand they trode with nimble feet,
Where some by day and some by night, as best    Dry shelly sand that made the summer seat;
Suit their employments, seek uncertain rest;   The wond'ring mews flew flutt'ring o'er their head,
The drowsy children at their, pleasure creep    And waves ran softly up their shining bed."-p. 127.
To the known crib, and there securely sleep.
"Each end contains a grate, and'these beside    While engaged in their sports, they discover
Are hung utensils fobr their boil'd and fry'd-  their boat floatng at a distance and are struck
All us'd at any hour, by night, by day,
As suit the purse, the person, or the prey.    with instant terror.
"Above the fire, the mantel-shelf contains     Alas! no shout the distant land can reach,
Of china-ware some poor unmatch'd remains;     NorAlas    no shout          th e distant land can reach
There many a tea-cup's gaudy fragment stands,          eye behold them from the fo g  beach;
All plac'd by Vanity's unwearied hands;         Again they Join in one loud powerful cry,
For here she lives, e'en here she looks about,  Then cease, and eager listen for reply.
To find small some consoling objects out.       None came-the rising wind blew sadly by.
i" High hung at either end, and next the wall,    They shout once more, and then they turn aside,
Two ancient mirrors show the forms of all."    To see how quickly flow'd the coming tide:
pp. 249-251.   Between each cry they find the waters steal
On their strange prison, and new horrors feel;
The following picture of a calm  sea fog is Foot after foot on the contracted ground
by the same powerful hand:-                   The billows fall, and dreadful is the sound!
Less and yet less the sinking isle became,
" When all you see through densest fog is seen;   And there was wailing, weeping, wrath, and blame,
when you can hear the fishers near at hand      Had one been there, with spirit strong and high,
Distinctly speak, yet see not where they stand;    Who could observe, as he prepar'd to die,
Or sometimes them and not their boat discern,  He might have seen of hearts the varying kind,
Or half-conceal'd some figure at the stern;    And trac'd the movement of each different mind:
Boys who, on shore, to sea the pebble cast,    He might have seen, that not the gentle maid
Will hear it strike against the viewless mast;  Was more than stern and haughty man afraid," &c.
While the stern boatman growls his fierce disdain,   " Now rose the water through the less'ning sand,
At whom he knows not, whom he threats in vain.  And they seem'd sinking while they yet could stand!
"'Tis pleasant then to view the nets float past,   The sun went down, they look'd from side to side,
Net after net till you have seen the last;     Nor aught except the gath'ring sea descry'd;
And as you wait till all beyond you slip,      Dark and more dark, more wet, more cold it grew,
A boat comes gliding from an anchor'd ship,    And the most lively bade to hope adieu;
Breaking the silence with the dipping oar,      Children, by love, then lifted from the seas,
And their own tones, as labouring for the shore;   Felt not the waters at the parent's knees,
Those measur'd tones with which the scene agree, But wept aloud; the whid increas'd the sound,
And give a sadness to serenity.-pp. 123, 124.  And the cold billows as they broke around.
-     But hark! an oar,
We add one other sketch of a similar char- That sound of bliss! comes dashing to their shore:
acter, which though it be introduced as the  Still, still the water rises,' Haste!' they cry,
haunt and accompaniment of a desponding' Oh! hurry, seamen, in delay we die!'
spirit is yet chiefly remarkable for the singu- (Seamen were these who in their ship perceiv'd
7 i i  e  hel  eakb  f  t  snU  The drifted boat,' and thus her crew reliev'd.)
lar clearness and accuracy with which it And now the keel just cuts the cover'd sand,
represents the dull scenery of a common tide  Now to the gunwale stretches every hand;
river.  The author is speaking of a solitary  With trembling pleasure nll confus'd embark,
and abandoned  fisherman, who was com- And kiss the tackling of their welcome ark;
pelled-                                        While the most giddy, as they reach the shore,
Think of their danger, and their God adore."
"At the same times the same dull views to see,                                 pp. 127-130.
The bounding marsh-bank and the blighted tree     In the letter on Education
The water only, when the tides were high,         In the letter on Education there are some
When low, the mud half-covered and half-dry;    fine descriptions of boarding-schools for both
The sun-burn'd tar that blisters on the planks,  sexes, and of the irksome and useless restraints
And bank-side stakes in their uneven ranks:    which they impose on the bounding spirits
Heaps of entangled weeds that slowly float,    and open affections of early youth.  This is
As the tide rolls by the impeded boat.         followed by some
" When tides were neap, and, in the sultry day, followed by some excellent remarks on the
Through the tall bounding mud-banks made their ennui which so often falls to the lot of the
Which on each side rose swelling, and below  [way, learned-or that description at least of the




CRABBE'S BOROUGH.                                   3.
learned that are bred in  English univer- been the model of our author in the follow
sities. But we have no longer left room for ing:anv considerable extracts; though we should  " That woe could wish, or vanity devise."
have wished to lay before our readers some   Sick without pity, sorrowing without hope."
part of the picture of the secretaries —the de-  " Sick without pity, sorrowing without hope.'
scrpton of the picture of nns-the secretrolling players- "Gloom to the night, and pressure to the chain"-'
scription of the inns-the strolling playersand the clubs.  The poor man's club. which and a great multitude.of others.
partakes of the nature of a friendly society,   On the other hand, he appears to us to be
is described with that good-hearted indulgence frequently isled by Darwin into a sort of
which marks all Mr. Crabbe's writings.       mock-heroictlagnificence, upon ordinary occasions. The poet of the Garden, for instance,
"The printed rules he guards in painted frame,   makes his nymphs
And shows his children where to read his name."
" Present the fragrant quintessence of tea."
We have now alluded, we believe, to what
is best and most striking in this poem; and  And the poet of the Dock-yards makes his
though we do not mean to quote any part of carpenters
what we consider as less successful, we must  "Spread the warm pungence of o'erboiling tar."
say, that there are large portions of it which    Mr. Crabbe  indeed, does not scruple, on
appear to us considerably inferior to most of some occasions, to adopt the mock-heroic in
the author's former productions. The letter good earnest.  When the landlord of the
on the Election, we look on as a complete Griffin becomes bankrupt, he saysfailure-or at least as containing scarcely any
thing of what it ought to have contained.- "The insolvent Griffin struck her wings sublime,"
The letters on Law and Physic, too, are tedi- and introduces a very serious lamentation
ous; and the general heads of Trades, Amuse- over the learned poverty of the curate, with
ments, and Hospital Government, by no means this most misplaced piece of buffoonery:amusing. The Parish Clerk, too we find dull,
amusing. The Parish Clerk, too, we find dull, " Oh! had he learn'd to make the wig he wears!"I
and without effect; and have already given
our opinion of Peter Grimes, Abel Keene, and    One of his letters, too, begins with this
Benbow. We are struck, also with several wretched quibbleomissions in the picture of a maritime borough.   "From Law to Physic stepping at our ease,
Mr. Crabbe might have made a great deal of       We find a way to finish-by Degrees."
a press-gang; and, at all events, should have                   imitations of the
given us some wounded veteran sailors, and    There are many G   mitathons of the
some voyagers with tales of wonder from  rhythm  of Goldsmith  and  Campbell, too, as
~~foreign lands.                 ~our readers must have observed in some of
foreigur lands.onger specimens -but thes  though
The style of this poem  is distinguished, our longer specimens; -but these, though
like all Mr. Crabbe's other performances, by they do not always maket  very harmonious
great force and compression of diction-a sort combination, are better, at all events, than
of sententious brevity, once thought essential the tame heaviness and vulgarity of sueb
to poetical composition, but of which he is verses as the following:now the only living example. But though this                        - "As soon
is almost an unvarying characteristic of his Could he have thought gold issued from the moon.Y"
style, it appears to us that there is great "A seaman's body-there'll bemore to-night."
variety, and even some degree of unsteadi-,Those who will not to any guide submit,
ness and inconsistency in the tone of his ex-   Nor find one creed to their conceptions fitpression and versification.  His taste seems   True iudependents: while they Calvin hate,
scarcely to be sufficiently fixed and settled as   They heed as little what Socinians state." —p. 54.
to these essential particulars; and, along with,, Here pits of crag, with spongy, plashy base,
a certain quaint, broken, and harsh manir   To some enrich th' uncdltivated space," &c. &c.
of his own, we think we can trace very frequent imitations of poets of the most opposite    Of the sudde   think peculiarsh turns, and broken cone
character. The following antithetical and ciseness which we think peculiar to himself,
half-punning lines of Pope, for instance     the reader may take the following  specimens: —
" Sleepless himself, to give his readers sleep "
"Sleepless himself, to give his readers" Has your wife's brother, or your uncle's son,
and —                                          Done aught amiss; or is he thought t' have
" Whose trifling pleases, and whom trifles please;-  done?"
" Stepping from post to post he reach'd the chair;
have evidently been copied by Mr. Crabbe in   And there he now reposes:-that's the Mayor t,
the following, and many others: —
He has a sort of jingle, too, which we think
"And in the restless ocean, seek for rest."  is of his own invention;-for instance,
"Denying her who taught thee to deny."       "For forms and feasts that sundry times have past.
"Scraping they liv'd, but not a scrap they gave."    And formal feasts that will for ever last."
"Bound for a friend, whom honour could not bind." " We term it free and easy; and yet we
A' mong the poor, for poor distinctions sigh'd."  Find it no easy matter to be free."
In the same way, the common, nicely bal-   We had more remarks to make upon the
anced line of two members, which is so char- taste and diction of this author; and had noted
acteristic of the same author, has obviously several other little blemishes, which we meant




396                                 POETRY.
o have pointed out for his correction: but we mirable account m maintaining the inte. es
have no longer room for such minute criticism  and enhancing the probability, of an extended
— from which, indeed, neither the author nor train of adventures. At present, it is imposthe reader would be likely to derive any great sible not to regret, that so much genius should
benefit. We take our leave of Mr. Crabbe, be wasted in making us perfectly acquainted
therefore, by expressing our hopes that, since with individuals, of whom we are to know
it is proved that he can write fast, he will not nothing but the characters. In such a poem,
allow his powers to languish for want of exer- however. Mr. Crabbe must entirely lay aside
~cise; and that we shall soon 6$e him again the sarcastic and jocose style to which he has
repaying the public approbat'i, by entitling rather too great a propensity; but iwhich we
himself to a still larger share of it. An author know, from what he has done in Sir Eustace
generally knows his own forte so much better Grey, that he can, when he pleases, entirely
than any of his readers, that it is commonly relinquish. That very powerful and original
a very foolish kind of presumption to offer performance, indeed, the chief fault of which
any advice as to the direction of his efforts; is, to be set too thick with images-to be too
but we own we have a very strong desire to strong and undiluted, in short, for the diges..
see Mr. Crabbe apply his great powers to the tion of common readers-makes us regret,
construction of some interesting and connected that its author should ever have stopped to be
story. He has great talents for narration; and trifling and ingenious -or condescended to
that unrivalled gift in the delineation of char- tickle the imaginations of his readers, instead
acter, which is now used only for the creation of touching the higher passions of their naof detached portraits, might be turned to ad- ture.
(November, 181.)
Tales. By the Reverend GEORGE CRABBE. 8vo. pp. 398. London: 1812.
WE are very thankful to Mr. Crabbe for their venial offences, contrasted with a strong
ales; as we must always be for any sense of their frequent depravity, and too
at comes from his hands. But they constant a recollection of the sufferings it proare not exactly the tales which we wanted. duces — and, finally, the same honours paid
We did not, however, wish him to write an to the delicate affections and ennobling pasEpic-as he seems from his preface to have sions of humble life, with the same generous
imagined. We are perfectly satisfied with testimony to their frequent existence; mixed
the length of the pieces he has given us; and up as before, with a reprobation sufficiently
delighted with their number and variety. In rigid, and a ridicule sufficiently severe, of
these respects the volume is exactly as we their excesses and affectations.
could have wished it. But we should have   If we were required to make a comparative
liked a little more of the deep and tragical estimate of the merits of the present publicapassions; of those passions which exalt and tion, or to point out the shades of difference
overwhelm the soul-to whose stormy seat by which it is distinguished from those that
the modern muses can so rarely raise their have gone before it, we should say that there
flight-and which he has wielded with such are a greater number of instances on which
terrific force in his Sir Eustace Grey, and t   he has combined the natural language and
Gipsy Woman. What we wanted, in shor,   nners of humble life with the energy of
were tales something in the style of those  passion, and the beauty of generous
two singular compositions-with less jocu- affection; —in which he has traced out the
larity than prevails in the rest of his writings course of those rich and lovely veins in the
-rather more incidents-and rather fewer rude and unpolished masses that lie at the
details.                                 bottom of society; —and unfolded. in the midThe pieces before us are not of this descrip- dling orders of the people, the workings of
tion;-they are mere supplementary chapters those finer feelings, and the stirrings of those
to "The Borough%," or "The Parish Register." loftier emotions which the partiality of other
The same tone-the same subjects-the same poets had attributed, almost exclusively, to
style, measure, and versification; —the same actors on a higher scene.
finished and minute delineation of things   We hope, too, that this more amiable and
ordinary and common-generally very en- consoling view of human nature will have
gaging when employed upon external objects, the effect of rendering Mr. Ciabbe still mor6
but often fatiguing when directed merely to popular than we know that he already is,
insignificant characters and habits; —the same among that great body of the people, from
strange mixture too of feelings that tear the among whom almost all his subjects are taken,
heart and darken the imagination, with starts and for whose use his lessons are chiefly in
of low humour and patches of ludicrous ima- tended: and we say this, not only on account
gery;-the same kindly sympathy with the of the moral benefit which we think they
humble and innocent pleasures of the poor may derive from them, but because we are
and inelegant, and the same indulgence for persuaded that they will derive more pleasure




CRABBE'S TALES.                                  39)
from;hem than readers of any other descrip- classes, there are not as many as thirty
tion. Those who do not belong to that rank thousand. It is easy to see therefore which
of society with which this powerful writer is a poet should choose to please, for his own
chiefly conversant in his poetry, or who have glory and emolument, and which he should
not at least gone much among them, and at- wish to delight and amend, out of mere
tended diligently to their characters and occu- philanthropy.  The fact too we believe is,
pations, can neither be half aware of the that a great part of the larger body are to the
exquisite fidelity of his delineations, nor feel full as well educated and as high-minded as
in their full force the better part of the emo- the smaller; and, though their taste may not
tions which he has suggested.  Vehement be so correct and fastidious, we are persuaded
passion indeed is of all ranks and conditions; that their sensibility is greater. The misand its language and  external indications fortune is, to be sure. that they are extremely
nearly the same in all. Like highly rectified apt to affect the taste of their superiors, and
spirit, it blazes and inflames with equal force to counterfeit even that absurd disdain of
and brightness, from whatever materials it is which they are themselves the objects; and
extracted. But all the softer and kindlier that poets have generally thought it safest to
affections, all the social anxieties that mix invest their interesting characters with all
with our daily hopes, and endear our homes, the trappings of splendid fortune and high
and colour our existence. wear a different station, chiefly because those who know least
livery, and are written in a different character about such matters think it unworthy to symin almost every great caste or division of pathise in the adventures of those who are
society; and the heart is warmed, and the without them! For our own parts, however,
spirit touched by their delineation, exactly in we are quite positive, not only that persons
the proportion in which we are familiar with in middling life would naturally be most
the types by which they are represented.-  touched with the emotions that belong to
When Burns, in his better days, walked out their own condition, but that those emotions
in a fine summer morning with Dugald Stew- are in themselves the most powerful, and
art, and the latter observed to him what a consequently the best fitted for poetical or
beauty the scattered cottages, with their white pathetic representation. Even with regard
walls and curling smoke shining in the silent to the heroic and ambitious passions, as the
sun, imparted to the landscape, the present vista is longer which leads from  humble
poet answered, that he felt that beauty ten privacy to the natural objects of such pastimes more strongly than his companion could sions; so, the career is likely to be more
do; and that it was necessary to be a cottager petuous, and its outset more marked
to know what pure and tranquil pleasures ing and contrasted emotions: —and as to
often nestled below those lowly roofs, or to the more tender and less turbulent affections,
read, in their external appearance, the signs upon which the beauty of the pathetic is
of so many heartfelt and long-remembered altogether dependant, we apprehend it to be
enjoyments. In the same way, the humble quite manifest, that their proper soil and
and patient hopes-the depressing embarrass- nidus is the privacy and simplicity of humble
ments-the little mortifications-the slender life; —that their very elements are dissipated
triumphs, and strange temptations which arise by the variety of objects that move for ever
in middling life, and are the theme of Mr. in the world of fashion; and their essence
Crabbe's finest and most touching represen- tainted by the cares and vanities that are
tations-can only be guessed at by those who diffused in the atmosphere of that lofty region.
glitter in the higher walks of existence; while But we are wandering into a long dissertathey must raise many a tumultuous throb and tion, instead of making our readers acquainted
many a fond recollection in the breasts of with the book before us. The most satisfacthose to whom they reflect so truly the image tory thing we can do, we believe, is to give
of their own estate, and reveal so clearly the them  a plain account of its contents, with
secrets of their habitual sensations.      such quotations and remarks as may occur to
We cannot help thinking, therefore, that us as we proceed.
though such writings as are now before us   The volume contains twenty-one tales;must give great pleasure to all persons of taste the first of which is called 1" The Dumb Oraand sensibility, they will give by far the great- tors."  This is not one of the most engrg.ng;
est pleasure to those whose condition is least and is not judiciously placed at the portal, to
remote from that of the beings with whom. tempt hesitating readers to go forward. The
they are occupied. But we think also, that second, however, entitled  "The  Parting
it was wise and meritorious in Mr. Crabbe to Hour," is of a far higher character, and
occupy himself with such beings. In this contains some passages of great beauty and
country, there probably are not less than pathos. The story is simply that of a youth
three hundred thousand persons who read for and a maiden in humble life, who had loved
amusement or instruction, among the mid- each other from their childhood, but were too
dling classes* of society.  In the higher poor to marry. The youth goes to the West
Indies to push his fortune; but is captured
* By the middling classes, we mean almost all by the Spaniards and carried to Mexico
those who are below the sphere of what is called where, in the course of time, though still
fashionable or public life, and who do not aim at sighing for his first love, he marries a Span.
distinction or notoriety beyond the circle of their ish girl, and lives twenty years with her and
equals in fortune and situation.           his children-he is then impressed, and car




398                                     POETRY.
tied  round  the  world  for  twenty  years'The Booths! yet live they?' pausing and op
longer; and is at last moved by an irre-             press'd:
sistible impulse, when old and shattered and  Then spake again: —' Is there no ancient man,
David his name?-assist me, if you can.lonely   to seek  his native town, and the Flemings there were!-and Judith! doth she live I
scene of his youthful vows. He comes and  The woman gaz'd, nor could an answer give;
finds his Judith like himself in a state of  Yet wond'ring stood, and all were silent by,
widowhood, but still brooding, like himself, Feeling a strange and solemn sympathy."
over the memory of their early love.  She                                    pp 31, 32.
had waited  twelve anxious years without   The meeting of the lovers is briefly told.
tidings of him, and then married: and now
when all passion, and fuel for passion, is   "But now a Widow, in a village near,
extinguished within them, the memory of  Chanc'd of the melancholy man to hear:
their young attachment endears them to each  Old as she was, to Judith's bosom came
other and theysi sad and   ome strong emotions at the well-known name;
other, and they still cling together in sad and  He was her much.lov'd Allen! she had stay'd
subdued affection, to the exclusion of all the  Ten troubled years, a sad afflicted maid," &c.
rest of the world.  The history of the growth    "The once-fond Lovers met: Nor grief nor age.
and maturity of their innocent love is beauti- Sickness or pain, their hearts could disengage:
fully given: but we pass on to the scene of Each had immediate confidence; a frien
their parting.                                Both now beheld, on whom they might depend:' Now is there one to whom I can express
My nature's weakness, and my soul's distress.' "
"All things prepar'd, on thexpected day
Was seen the vessel anchor'd in the bay.        There is something sweet and touching,
From her would seamen in the evening come,    and in a higher vein of poetry, in the story
To take th' advent'rous Allen from his home;
To take th' advent'rous Allen from his home;  which he tells to Judith of all his adventures,
With his own friends the final day he pass'd,  and of those other to Judith of which it still wrings
And every painful hour, except the last.      and of those other ties, of which it still wrings
The grieving Father urg'd the cheerful glass,  her bosom to hear him speak.-We can afford
To make the moments with less sorrow pass;    but one little extract.
Intent the Mother look'd upon her son,
And wish'd th' assent withdrawn, the deed undone; " There, hopeless ever to escape the land,
The younger Sister, as he took his way,       He to a Spanish maiden gave his hand;
Hung on his coat, and begg'd for more delay;  In cottage shelter'd from the blaze of day,
But his own Judith call'd him to the shore,   He saw his happy infants round him play;
Whom  he must meet-for they might meet no Where summer shadows, made by lofty trees,
more!-                               Wav'd o'er his seat, and sooth'd his reveries;
_ p 4~4c- he found her-faithful, mournful, true,  E'en then he thought of England, nor could sigh,
tng and waiting for a last adieu!      But his fond Isabel demanded' Why?'
The ebbing tide had left the sand, and there  Griev'd by the story, she the sigh repaid,
Mov'd with slow steps the melancholy pair:    And wept in pity for the English Maid."
Sweet were the painful moments-but how sweet,                                pp. 35, 36.
And without pain, when they again should meet!"    The close is extremely beautiful, and leaves
upon the mind just that impression of sadness
The sad and long-delayed return of this which is both salutaryand delightful, because
ardent adventurer is described in a tone of it is akin to pity, and mingled with admiragenuine pathos, and in some places with such  tion and esteem.'
truth and force of colouring, as to outdo the  "Thus silent, musing through the day, he sees
efforts of the first dramatic representation.  His children sporting by those lofty trees,
Their mother singing in the shady scene,
"But when return'd the Youth?-the Youth no Where the fresh springs burst o'er the lively green;
Return'd exulting to his native shore!  [more So strong his eager fancy, he affrights
But forty years were past; and then there came   The faithful widow by its ponw'rful flights;
A worn-out man, with wither'd limbs and lame!  For what disturbs him he aloud will tell,
Yes! old and griev'd, and trembling with decay,   And cry —' Tis she, my wife! my Isabel!'Was Allen landing in his, native bay:' Where are my children?'-Judith grieves to hear
In an autumnal eve he left the beach,         How the soul works in sorrows so severe;In such an eve he chanc'd the port to reach:  Watch'd by her care, in sleep, his spirit takes
He was alone; he press'd the very place       Its flight, and watchful finds her when he wakes.
Of the sad parting, of the last embrace:        "'Tis now her office; her attention see!
There stood his parents, there retir'd the Maid,    While her friend sleeps beneath that shading tree,
So fond, so tender, and so much afraid;      Careful, she guards him from the glowing heat,
And on that spot, through many a year, his mind  And pensive muses at her Allen's feet.  [scenes
Turn'd mournful back, half sinking, half resign'd.   "And where is he?  Ah! doubtless in those
" No one was present; of its crew bereft,   Of his best days, amid thte vivid greens,
A single boat was in the billows left;        Fresh with unnumber'd rills, where ev'ry gale
Sent from some anchor'd vessel in the bay,    Breathes the rich fragrance of the neighb'ring vale;
At the returning tide to sail away:           Smiles not his wife?-and listens as there comes
O'er the black stern the moonlight softly play'd,   The night-bird's music from the thick'ning glooms t
The loosen'd foresail flapping in the shade   And as he sits with all these treasures nigh,
All silent else on shore; but from the town   Gleams not with fairy-light the phosphor fly,
A drowsy peal of distant bells came down:     When like a sparkling gem it wheels illumin'd by I
From the tall houses, here and there, a light  This is the joy that now so plainly speaks
Serv'd some confus'd remembrance to excite:  In the warm transient flushing of his cheeks;'There,' he observ'd, and new emotions felt,  For he is list'ning to the fancied noise' Was my first home-and yonderJudith dwelt,'&c. Of his own children, eager in their joys!A swarthy matron he beheld, and thought       All this he feels; a dream's delusive bliss
She might unfold the very truths he sought;   Gives the expression, and the glow like this.
Confus'd and trembling he the dame address'd:   And now his Judith lays her knitting by,




CRABBE'S TALES.                                     39
These strong emotions in her friend to spy;     "Here Dinah sigh'd as if afraid to speak,For she can fully of tneir nature deem  -     And then repeated-' They were frail and weak;
But see! he breaks the long protracted theme,    His soul she lov'd; and hop'd he had the grace
And wakes and cries-' My God!'twas but a To fix his thoughts upon a better place.'"
dream!' "-pp. 39, 40.                                               pp. 72, 73.
The third tale is " The Gentleman Farmer,"    Nothing can be more forcible or true to naand is of a coarser texture than that we have  ture, than the description of the effect of this
just been considering-though full of acute cold-blooded cant on the warm and unsuspectobservation, and graphic delineation of ordi- ing nature of her disappointed suitor.
nary characters.  The hero is not a farmer
turned gentleman, but a gentleman turned  "She ceased:-With steady glance, as if to see
farmer-a conceited, active, talking, domi- The very root of this hypocnsy,He her small fingers moulded in his hard
ieering sort of person-Mw~ho plants and eats And bronz'd broad hand; then told her his regard,
and drinks with great vigour-keeps a mis- His best respect were gone, but Love had still
tress, and speaks with audacious scorn of the  Hold in his heart, and govern'd yet the willtyranny of wives, and the impositions of  Or he would curse her!-Saying this, he threw
priests, lawyers, and physicians.  Being but The hand in scorn away, and bade adieu
a  shallow  fellow however at bottom  his con- To every ling'ring hope, with every care in view.
fidnc.i  hi.op.io.                       "In health declining as in mind distress'd,
fidence in his opinions declines gradually as To some in power his troubles he confess'd,
his health decays; and, being seized with  And shares a parish-gift. Atprayers hesees
some maladies in his stomach, he ends with  The pious Dinah dropp'd upon her knees;
marrying his mistress, and submitting to be Thence as she walks the street with stately air,
As chance directs, oft meet the parted pair!
trin the respective charactersee of hera quack doctorates; When he, with thickset coat of Badge-man's blue,
in'the respective characters of a quack doctor, Moves nea her shaded silk of changeful hue;
a methodist preacher, and a projecting land  When his thin locks of grey approach her braid
steward.  We cannot afford any extracts from  (A costly purchase made in beauty's aid);
this performance.                             When his frank air, and his unstudied pace,
The next, which is called  C Procrastina- Are seen with her soft manner, air, and grace,
tion," has somethinog of ithe character of the And his plain artless look with her sharp meaning
tionC" has something of the character  of the It might some wonder in a stranger move,  [face;
Parting Hour;" but more painful, and less How these together could have talk'd of love!"
refined.  It is founded like it on the story of                                pp. 73,74.
a betrothed youth and maiden, whose marriage is prevented by their poverty; and this  C" The Patron," which is next in order is
youth, too, goes to pursue his fortune at sea; also very good; and contains specimens of
while the damsel awaits his return, with an very various excellence.  The story i "
old female relation at home., He is crossed of a young man of humble birth, who shows
with many disasters, and is not heard of for an early genius for poetry; and having been,
many years.  In the mean time, the virgin with some inconvenience to his parents, progradually imbibes her aunt's'paltry love for vided with a frugal, but regular education, is
wealth and finery; and when she comes, after at last taken notice of by a nobleman in the
long sordid expectation, to inherit her hoards, neighbourhood, who promises to promote him
feels that those new tastes have supplanted  in the church, and invites him to pass an auevery warmer emotion in her bosom  and, tumn with him at his seat in the country.
secretly hoping never more to see her youth- Here the youth, in spite of the admirable adful lover, gives herself up to comfortable gos- monitions of his father, is gradually overcome
siping and formal ostentatious devotion. At by a taste for elegant enjoyments, and allows
last, when she is set in her fine parlour, with himself to fall in love with the enchanting
her china and toys, and prayer-books around sister of his protector. When the family
her, the impatient man bursts into her pres- leave him with indifference to return to town
ent'e. and reclaims her vows! She answers he feels the first pang of humiliation and discoldly, that she has now done with the world, appointment; and afterwards, when he finds
and only studies how to prepare to die! and that all his noble friend's fine promises end
exhorts him  to betake himself to the same in obtaining for him a poor drudging place in
needful meditations.  We shall give the con- the Customs, he pines and pines till he falls
clusion of the scene in the author's own words. into insanity; and recovers, only to die pre
The faithful and indignant lover replies:-    maturely in the arms of his disappointed pa
rents. We cannot make room for the history
"Heav'n's spouse thou art not: nor can I believe   of the Poet's progress-the father's warnings
That God accepts her, who will Man deceive:   -or the blandishments of the careless syren
True I am shatter'd, I have service seen,
And service done, and have in trouble been;    by  whom he was enchanted though all are
My cheek (it shames me not) has lost its red,  excellent. We give however the scene of the
And the brown buff is o'er my features spread;    breaking up of that enchantment; —a descripPerchance my speech is rude; for I among      tion which cannot fail to strike, if it had no
Tn' untam'd have been, in temper and in tongue;  other merit, from its mere truth and accuracy.
But speak my fate! For these my sorrows past,
Time lost, youth fled, hope wearied, and at last  "Cold grew the foggy morn; the day was brief;
This doubt of thee-a childish thing to tell,  Loose on the cherry hung the crimson leaf;
But certain truth-my very throat they swell;  The dew dwelt ever on the herb; the woods
They stop the breath, and but for shame could I   Roar'd with strong blasts, with mighty showers
Give way to weakness, and with passion cry;           the floods;
These are unmanly struggles, but I feel       All green was vanish'd, save of pine and yew,
tIhis hour must end them, and perhaps will heal."- That still display'd their melancholy hue;




400                                     POETRY.
Save the green holly with its berries red,       "The Lover's Journey" is a pretty fancy,
And the green moss that o'er the gravel spread.    and very well executed-at least as to the
"''o public views my Lord must soon attend    descriptions it contains.-A lover takes a long
And soon the Ladies-would they leave their friiend?
The time was fix'd-approach'd-was near-was ride to see his mistress; and passing, in full
come!                                  hope and joy, through a barren and fenny
The trying time that fill'd his soul with gloom;    country; finds beauty in every thing.  Being
Thoughtful our Poet in the morning rose,      put out of humour, however, by missing the
And cried, " One hour my fortune will disclose.'  lady at the end of this stage, he proceeds
"The morning meal was past; and all around    through a lovely landscape, and finds every
The mansion rang with each discordant sound;
Haste was in every foot, and every look        thing ugly and disagreeable. At last he meets
The trav'llers' joy for London-journey spoke:  his fair one-is reconciled-and returns along
Not so our Youth; whose feelings at the noise  with her; when the landscape presents neither
Of preparation had no touch of joys;          beauty nor deformity; and excites no emotion
He pensive stood, and saw each carriage drawn,   whatever in a mind engrossed with more
With lackies mounted, ready on the lawn:
The Ladies canme; and John in terror threw     lively sensations.  There is nothing in this
One painful glance, and then his eyes withdrew;   volume, or perhaps in any part of Mr. Crabbe's
Not with such speed, but he in other eves     writings, more exquisite than some of the deWith atnguish read-' I pity, but despise-      scriptions in this story. The following, though
Unhappy boy! presumptuous scribbler!-you,    by no means the best, is too characteristic of
To dream such dreams-be sober, and adieu' "   the author to be omitted:pp. 93, 94.
".The Frank Courtship," which is the next   IFirst o'er a barren heath beside the coast
in order is rather in the merry vein; and con-  Orlando rode, and joy begall to boast.   [bloom,'  This neat low gorse,' said he,'with golden
tains even less than Mr. Crabbe's usual mod- Delights each sense, is beauty, is perfume 
erate allowance of incident.  The whole of And this gay ling, with all its purple flowers,
the story is, that the daughter of a rigid  A man at leisure might admire fobr hours;
Quaker, having been educated from  home, This green-fring'd cup-moss has a scarlet tip,
conceives a slight prejudice against the'un    I That yields to nothing but my Laura's lip;
un- And then how fine this herbage! men may say
gallant manners of the sect, and is prepared  A heath is barren; nothing is so gay.'
to be very contemptuous and uncomplying    "Onward he went, and fiercer grew the heat,
when her father proposes a sober youth of the  Dust rose in clouds beneath the horse's feet;
persuasion for a husband;-but is so much  For now he pass'd through lanes of' burning sand,
struck with the beauty of his person, and the  Bounds to thin crops or yet uncultur'd land;
hfgLu-Fl reasonableness of his deportmaant at Where the dark poppy flourish'd on the dry
_t,~gful reasonableness of his deportment at And sterile soil, and mock'd the thin-set rye.
eir first interview, that she instantly yields   "The Lover rode as hasty lovers ride,
her consent.  There is an excellent descrip- And reach'd a common pasture wild and wide;
tion of the father and the unbending elders of Small black-legg'd sheep devour with hunger keen
his tribe; and some fine traits of natural co- The meager herbage; fleshless, lank and lean:
quetry.                                        He saw some scatter'd hovels; turf was pil'd
" The  ido's Tale" is also rather of the  In square brown stacks; a prospect bleak and wild!
A mill, indeed, was in the centre found,
facetious order.  It contains the history of a With short sear herbage withering all around;
farmer's daughter, who comes home from her A smith's black shed oppos'd a wright's long shop,
boarding-school a great deal too fine to tolerate  And join'd an inn where humble travellers stop."
the gross habits, or submit to the filthy drud-                                   176 177.
gery of her father's house; but is induced, by    The features of the fine country are less
the warning history and sensible exhortations perfectly drawn: But what, indeed, could be
of a neighbouring widow, in whom  she ex- made of the vulgar fine country of Englan?
pected to find a sentimental companion, to If Mr. Crabbe had had the good fortune to
reconcile herself to all those abominations, live among our Highland hills, and lakes, and
and marry a jolly young farmer in the neigh- upland woods-our living floods sweeping
bourhood.  The account of her horrors, on through forests of pine-our lonely vales and
first coming down, is in Mr. Crabbe's best rough copse-covered cliffs; what a delicious
style of Dutch painting-a little coarse, and picture would his unrivalled powers have enaneedlessly minute-but perfectly true, and bled him to give to the world!-But we have
marvellously coloured.                        no right to complain, while we have such pie" Us'd to spare meals, dispos'd in manner pure,   tures as this of a group of Gipsies.  It is eviHer father's kitchen she could ill endure;    dently finished con amore; and does appear to
Where by the steaming beef he hungry sat,     us to be absolutely perfect, both in its moral
And laid at once a pound upon his plate;      and its physical expression.
Hot from the field, her eager brothers seiz'd
An equal part, and hunger's rage appeas'd;-    "Again the country was enclos'd; a wide
When one huge wooden bowl before them stood,  And sandy road has banks on either side;
Fill'd with huge balls of farinaceous food;    Where, lo! a hollow on the left appear'd,
With bacon, mass saline, where never lean     And there a Gipsy-tribe their tent had rear'd;
Beneath the brown and bristly rind was seen;'Twas open spread, to catch the morning sun,
When from a single horn the party drew        And they had now their early meal begun,
Their copious draughts of heavy ale and new;   When two brown Boys just left their grassy seat
She could not breathe; but, with a heavy sigh,  The early Trav'ller with their pray'rs to greet:
Rein'd the fair neck, and shut the offended eye;   While yet Orlando held his pence in hand,
She minc'd the sanguine flesh in frustums fine,    He saw their sister on her duty stand;
And wonder'd much to see the creatures dine."    Some twelve years old, demure, affected, sly,
pp. 128, 129.   Prepar'd the force of early powers to try:




CRABBE'S TALES.                                      401
Sudden a look of languor he descries,           "Then as the Friend repos'd, the younger Pair
And well-feign'd apprehension in her eyes;     Sat down to cards, and play'd beside his chair;
Train'd, but yet savage, in her speaking face,  Till he awaking, to his books applied,
He mark'd the features of her vagrant race;   Or heard the music of th' obedient bride:
When a light laugh and roguish leer express'd  If mild th' evening, in the fields they stray'd,
The vice implanted in her youthful breast!    And their own flock with partial eye survey'd;
Within, the Father, who from fences nigh       But oft the Husband, to indulgence prone,
Had brought the fuel for the fire's supply,   [by: Resum'd his book, and bade them walk alone.
Watch'd now the feeble blaze, and stood dejected    " This was obey'd; and oft when this was done
On ragged rug, just borrow'd from the bed,     They calmly gaz'd on the declining sun;
And by the hand of coarse indulgence fed,      In silence saw the glowing landscape fade,
In dirty patchwork negligently dress'd,        Or, sitting, sang beneath the arbour's shade:
RLeclin'd the Wife, an in ant at her breast;   Till rose the moon, and on each youthful face,
In her wild face some touch of grace remain'd,    Shed a soft beauty, and a dangerous grace."
Of vigour palsied and of beauty stain'd;                                        pp. 198, 199.
Her blood-shot eyes on her unheeding mate [state,
Were wrathfill turn'd, and seem'd her wants to    The ultimate downfall of this lofty mind
Cursing his tardy aid-her Mother there         with its agonising gleams of transitory recol.
With Gipsy-state engross'd the only chair;     lection, form a picture, than which we do not
Solemn and dull her look: with such she stands,   know if the whole range of our poetry, rich as
And reads the Milk-maid's fortune, in her hands,  it is in representations of disordered intellect
Tracing the lines of life; assum'd through years,  furnishes any thing more touc     or deinEach feature now the steady falsehood wears;
With hard and savage eye she views the food,   eated with more truth and delicacy.
And grudging pinches their intruding brood'
Lastnd grudging  pinches the ir intruding broodsire sits  "Harmless at length th' unhappy man was found,
Neglected, lost, and living but Grab ndsisits   The spirit settled, but the reason drown'd;
Neglected, lost, and living but by fits;       And all the dreadful tempest died away,
Useless, despis'd, his worthless Tabours done,  And all the dull stillness of the mist  d ay
And half protected by the vicious So1,         To the dull stillness of the misty day!
Andho half supportsected by the vicious Son,'And now his freedom he attain'd-if free
Vwho half supports him   o He witha heavy glance, *The lost to reason, truth and hope, can be;
Views the young ruffians who around him dance;  The playful children of the place he meets;
And, by the sadness in his face, appears       Playful with them he rambles through the streets;
To trace the progress of their future years;   In all they need, his stronger arm he lends,
Through what strange course of misery, vice, deceit, And his lost mind to these approvng friends.
Must wildly wander each unpractis'd cheat;       "Thatgentle Maid, whom once the Youth had
What shame and grief, what punishment and pain, Is now with mild religious pity mov'd;    [lov'd,
Sport of fierce passions, must each child sustain —  indly she chides his boyish flights, while he
Ere they like him approach their latter end,   Kindly she chides his boyish flights, while he
Ere they like him approach their latter end,   Will fr a moment fix'd and pensive be;
And as she trembling speaks, his lively eyes.A
pp. 180 —182.   Explore her looks, he listens to her sighs;
The next story, which is entitled " Edward  Charm'd by her voice, th' harmonious sounds invade
Shore," also contains many passages of ex- His clouded mind, and for a time persuade:
quisite beauty.  The hero is a young man of Like a pleas'd Infant, who has newly caught
aspiring genius and enthusiastic temper, with  From the maternal glance, a gleam of thought;
an asrdent loves anf virtuebutno husiac) w.ih He stands enrapt, the half-known voice to hear,
an ardent love of virtue, but no settled prin- And starts, half-conscious, at the falling tear!
ciples either of conduct or opinion.  He first   " Rarely from town, nor then unwatch'd, he goes,
conceives an attachment for an amiable girl, In darker mood, as if to hide his woes,
who is captivated with his conversation -  But soon returning, with impatienceseeks [speaks;
but being too poor to marry, soon comes to  His youthful friends, and shouts, and sings, and
Speaks a wild speech, with action all as wildspend more of his time in the family of an el- Speaks a wildren's leader, and himself a chld'derly sceptic.though we rea     l ly s ee no object The children's leader, and himself a child;
-.derly sceptic (though we really see no object He spins their top, or at their bidding, bends
in giving him that character) of his acquaint- His back, while o'er it leap his laughing friends;
ance, who had recently married a young wife, Simple and weak, he acts the boy once more,
and placed unbounded confidence in her vir- And heedless children call him Silly Shore,"
tue, and the honour of his friend.  In a mo-                                    pp. 206, 207.
ment of temptation, they abuse this confi-    "Squire Thomas" is not nearly so interestdence. The husband renounces him with dig- ing.  This is the history of a mean domineernified composure; and he falls at once from  ing spirit, who, having secured the succession
the romantic pride of his virtue.  He then  of a rich relation by assiduous flattery, looks
seeks the company of the dissipated and gay; about for some obsequious and yielding fair
and ruins his health and fortune, without re- one, from whom he may exact homage in his:
gaining his tranquillity.  When in gaol, and  turn.  He thinks he has found such a one in
miserable, he is relieved by an unknown hand; a lowly damsel in his neighbourhood, and
and traces the benefaction to the friend whose marries her without much premeditation;former kindness he had so ill repaid.  This when he discovers, to his consternation, not
humiliation falls upon his proud spirit and  only that she has the spirit of a virago, butshattered nerves with an overwhelming force; that she and her family have decoyed him
and his reason fails beneath it.  He is for into the match, to revenge, or indemnify
some time a raving maniac; and then falls themselves for his having run away with the
into a state of gay and compassionable im- whole inheritance of their common relative.
becility, which is described with inimitable  She hopes to bully him  into a separate main
beauty in the close of this'story.  We can  tenance-but his avarice refuses to buy his
afford but a few extracts.  The nature of the peace at such a price; and they continue to,
seductions which led to his first fatal lapse  live together, on a very successful system of
are well intimated in the following short pas  mutual tormenting.
age:-                                            " Jesse and Colin " pleases us much better.
x26




402                                     POETRY.
Jesse is the orphan of a poor clergyman, who  Blended with village-tones, the evening gsle
goes, upon her father's death, to live with a Gave the sweet night-bird's warblings to the vale
rich old lady who had been his friend; and  The youth embolden'd, yet abash'd, now told
Colin is a young farmer, whose father had  His fondest wish, nor found the Maiden cold," &c.
pp. 240, 241.
speculated away an handsome property; and
who; though living in a good degree by his   "The Struggles of Conscience," though visi.
own labour, yet wished the damsel (who half bly laboured, and, we should suspect, a favo,-rs
wished it also) to remain and share his hum- ite with the author, pleases us less than any
ble lot. The rich lady proves to be suspicious, tale in the volume.  It is a long account of a
overbearing, and selfish; and sets Jesse upon low base fellow, who rises by mean and disthe ignoble duty of acting the spy and informer honourable arts to a sort of opulence; and,
over the other dependents of her household; without ever committing any flagrant crime
on the delineation of whose characters Mr. sullies his mind with all sorts of selfish, heartCrabbe has lavished a prodigious power of less, and unworthy acts, till he becomes a prey
observation and correct description:-But this to a kind of languid and loathsome remorse.
ntot suiting her pure and ingenuous mind, she: The Squire and the Priest l we do not like
suddenly leaves the splendid mansion, and much better.  A free living and free thinkreturns to her native village, where Colin and  ing squire had been galled by the public rehis mother soon persuade her to form one of bukes of his unrelenting pastor, and breeds
their happy family.  There is a great deal up a dependent relation of his own to succeed
of good-heartedness in this tale, and a kind  to his charge. The youth drinks and jokes
of moral beauty, which has lent more than  with his patron to his heart's content; during
usual elegance to the simple pictures it pre- the progress of his education;-but just as
sents. We are tempted to extract a good part the old censor dies, falls into the society of
of the denouement.                            Saints, becomes a rigid and intolerant Methodist, and converts half the parish, to the infi" The pensive Colin in his garden stray'd,  nite rage of his patron, and his own ultimate
But felt not then the beauties he display'd;  affiction.
There many a pleasant object met his view,       "The  Confidant"  is more interesting;
A rising wood of oaks behind it grew;
A stream ran by it, and the village.green    though not altogether pleasing.  A fair one
And public road were from the garden seen;   makes a slip at the early age of fifteen, which
Save where the pine and larch the bound'ry made, is concealed from every one but her mother,
And on the rose beds threw a soft'ning shade.  and a sentimental friend, from  whom  she
"rlThe Mother sat beside the garden-door,   could conceal nothing.. Her after life is pure
Dress'd as in times ere she and hers were poor;   and exemplary  and at twenty-five she is
The broad-lac'd cap was known in ancient days,
When Madam's dress compell'd the village praise: married to a worthy man, with whom  she
And still she look'd as in the times of old;  lives in perfect innocence and concord for
Ere his last farm the erring nhusband sold;   many happy years.  At last. the confidant of
While yet the Mansion stood in decent state,  her childhood, whose lot has been less prosAnd paupers waited at the well-known gate.
"' Alas! my Son!' the Mother cried,'and why perous  starts up and  importunes her for
That silent grief and oft-repeated sigh?     money-not forgetting to hint at the fatal seFain would I think that Jesse still may come  cret of which she is the depository.  After
To share the comforts of our rustic home:     agonising and plundering her for years, she
She surely lov'd thee; I have seen the maid,  at last comes and settles herself in her house,
When thou hast kindly brought the Vicar aid-  and embitters her whole existence by her selfWhen thou hast eas'd his bosom of its pain,  ish threats and ungenerous extortions.  The
Oh! I have seen her-she will come again.'   ish threats and ungenerous extortions. The
Oh! I have seen her-she will come again.
"The Matron ceas'd; and Colin stood the while husband, who had been greatly disturbed at
Silent, but striving for a grateful smile;   the change in his wife's temper and spirits,
He then replied-' Ah! sure had Jesse stay'd,    at last accidentally overhears enough to put
And shar'd the comforts of our sylvan shade,' &c. him in possession of the fact; and resolving
Sighing he spake-but hark!  he hears th' ap- to forgive a fault so long past, and so well reOf rattling wheels  and lo  the evening-coach     paired, takes occasion to intimate his knowOnce more the movement of the horses' feet   ledge of it, and his disdain of the false confiMakes the fond heart with strong emotion beat:   dant, in an ingenious apologue-which, howFaint were his hopes, but ever had the sight  ever is plain enough to drive the pestilent
Drawn him to gaze beside his gate at night;   visiter from his house, and to restore peace
And when with rapid wheels it hurred by,      and confidence to the bosom of his grateful
He griev'd his parent with a hopeless sigh;  [sum
And could the blessing have been bought-what wife.
Had he not offer'd, to have Jesse come?        C" Resentment " is one of the pieces in which
She came!-he saw her bending from the door,   Mr. Crabbe has exercised his extraordinary
Her face, her smile, and he beheld no more;  powers of giving pain-though not gratuitousLost in his joy! The mother lent her aid     ly in this instance, nor without inculcating a
T' assist and to detain the willing Maid;                                    ncuain
Who thought her late, her present home to make,  strong lesson of forgiveness and compassion.
Sure of a welcome for the Vicar's sake;      A middle-aged merchant marries a lady of
But the good parent was so pleas'd, so kind,  good fortune, and persuades her to make it
So pressing Colin, she so much inclin'd,     all over to him when he is on the eve of bankThat night advanc'd; and then so long detain'd   ruptcy. He is reduced to utter beggary; and
No wishes to depart she felt, or feign'd;  [main'd.  wife bitterly and deeply resenting the
Yet long in doubt she stood, and then perforce re" In the mild evening, in the scene around,  wrong he had done her, renounces all conThe Maid, now free, peculiar beauties found;  nection with him, and endures her own re



CRABBE'S TALES.                                  403
relses with magnanimity.  At last a distant   "The Convert" is rather dull-though it
relation leaves her his fortune; and she re- teaches a lesson that may be useful in these
turns to the enjoyment of moderate wealth, fanatic times.  John Dighton was bred a
and the exercise of charity-to all but her blackguard; and we have here a most lively
miserable husband. Broken by age and dis- and complete description of the items that go
ease, he now begs the waste sand from  the to the composition of that miscellaneous charstone-cutters, and sells it on an ass through the acter; but being sore reduced by a long fever,
streets:-                                   falls into the hands of the Methodists, and be-" And from each trifling gift   comes an exemplary convert. He is then set
Made shift to live-and wretched was the shift."  up by the congregation iil a small stationer's
The unrelenting wife descries him  creep- shop; and, as he begins to thrive in business,
ng through the wet at this miserable em- adds worldly literature to the  evangelical
ployment; but still withholds all relief; in tracts which composed his original stock in
spite of the touching entreaties of her com-.  This scandalises the brethren; and
passionate handmaid, whose nature is as kind  John, having no principles or knowledge, falls
and yielding as that of her mistress is hard  out with the sect, and can never settle in the
and inflexible.  Of all the pictures of mendi- creed of any other; and so lives perplexed
cant poverty that have ever been brought for- and discontented-and dies in agitation'and
ward in prose or verse-in charity sermons or terror.
seditious harangues-we know of none half so    "The Brothers " restores us again to human
moving or complete-so powerful and so true  sympathies. The characters, though humble,
-as is contained in the following passages:- are admirably drawn, and the baser of them,
we fear, the most strikingly natural. An
"A dreadful winter came; each day severe,    open-hearted generous sailor had  a poor
Misty when mild, and icy-cold when clear;     s                                      m h
And still the humble dealer took his load,    sneaking, cunning, selfish brother, to whom he
Returning slow, and shivering on the road:    remitted all his prize-money, and gave all the
The Lady, still relentless, saw him come,     arrears of his pay-receiving, in return, veheAnd said,-' I wonder, has the Wretch a home!'  ment professions of gratitude and false pro-'A hut! a hovel!'-' Then his fate appears   testations of regard.  At last the sailor is disTo suit his crime.'-' Yes, Lady, not his years;-  abled in action. and discharged; just as his
No! nor his sufferings-nor that form decay'd.'-  heartless brother has secured a small office' The snow,' quoth Susan,'falls upon his bed-   heartless brother has secured a small oice
It blows beside the thatch-it melts upon his by sycophancy, and made a prudent marriage
head.'-                               with a congenial temper. He seeks the shelter''Tis weakness, child, for grieving guilt to feel.'  of his brother's house as freely as he would'Yes, but he never sees a wholesome meal;     have given it; and does not at first perceive
Through his bare dress appears his shrivel'd skin,  the coldness of his reception
And ill he fares without, and worse within:
With that weak body, lame, diseas'd and slow,    tions grow upon him  day by day. His grog
What cold, pain, peril, must the suffrer know!- is expensive, and his pipe makes the wife
Oh! how those flakes of snow their entrance win  sick; then his voice is so loud, and his manThrough the poor rags, and keep the frost within  ners so rough, that her friends cannot visit her
His very heart seems frozen as he goes,
LeadHis very heart seemsrvd companiozen  ofas hise goes,  if he appears at table! So he is banished by
Leading that starv'd companion of his woes:
He tried to pray-his lips, I saw them move,   degrees to a garret; where he falls sick, and
And he so turn'd his piteous looks above;. has no consolation but in the kindness of one
But the fierce wind the willing heart opposed,  of his nephews, a little boy, who administers
And, ere he spoke, the lips in mis'ry clos'd!  to his comforts, and listens to his stories with
When reach'd his home, to what a cheerless fire   a delighted attention.  This too, however) is
And chilling bed will those cold limbs retire   last
Yet ragged, wretched as it is, that bed       at last interdicted by his hard-hearted parents;
Takes half the space of his contracted shed;  and the boy is obliged to steal privately to
I saw the thorns beside the narrow grate,     his disconsolate uncle.  One day his father
With straw collected in a putrid state:       catches him  at his door; and, after beating
There will he, kneeling, strive the fire to raise,    him back, proceeds to deliver a severe rebuke
And that will warm him rather than the blaze;    to his brother for encouraging the child in
The sullen, smoky blaze, that cannot last     disobedience-when he finds the unconscious
One moment after his attempt is past:
And I so warmly and so purely laid,           culprit released by death from his despicable
To sink to rest!-indeed, I am afraid!'"     insults and reproaches! The great art of the
pp. 320-322.   story consists in the plausible excuses with
The Lady at last is moved, by this pleading which the ungrateful brother always contrives
pity, to send him  a little relief; but has no- to cover his wickedness. This cannot be ex.
sooner dismissed her delighted messenger, emplified in an extract; but we shall give a
than she repents of her weakness, and begins few lines as a specimen.
to harden her heart aain by the recollection
to harden isher heart ain by the recollection misconduct. "Cold as he grew, still Isaac strove to show,
By well-feign'd care, that cold he could not grow:
"Thus fix'd, she heard not her Attendant glide    And when he saw his Brother look distress'd,
With soft slow step-till, standing by her side,  He strove some petty comforts to suggest;
The trembling Servant gasp'd for breath, and shed  On his Wife solely their neglect to lay,
Relieving tears, then uttered-' He is dead!'  And then t' excuse it as a woman's way;
"'Dead!' said the startled Lady.'Yes, he fell He too was chidden when her rules he broke,
Close at the door where he was wont to dwell.  And'then she sicken'd at the scentof smoke! [find
There his sole friend, the Ass, was standing by,  " George, though in doubt, was still consol'd to
Half dead himself, to see his Master die.'"   His Brother wishing to be reckon'd kind:
pp. 324, 325.   That Isaac seem'd concern'd by his distress.




104                                    POETRY.
Gave to his injur'd feelings some redress;   ical readers will all be disposed to.hanzi us,
But none he found dispos d to lend an ear     But considering Mr. Crabbe as, upon the
To stories, all were once intent to hear      whole the most o
Except his Nephew, seated on his knee,        whole, th                      who has 
He found no creature car'd about the sea;  [boy, come before us; and being at the same time
But George indeed-for George they'd call'd the 6oTinion, that his writings are destined to a
When his good uncle was their boast and joy-  still more extensive popularity than they have
Would listen long, and would contend with sleep,  yet obtained, we could not resist the temptaTo hear the woes andwonders of That man will teach e deep;  tion of contributing our little aid to the fulfilTill the fond mother cried —' That man will teach  ment of that destiny. It is chiefly for the
The foolish boy his loud and boisterous speech.'    of  that destiny.  It is chiefly for the
So judg'd the Father-and the boy was taught   same rl ea. n-tat we-have directed our reTo shun the Uncle, whom his love had sought."    ars rater to    o             t itera
pp. 368, 369.    ualities of      s — to his genius at least,
"At length he sicken'd, and this duteous Child          his taste-and  to his thoughts
Watch'd o'er his sickness, and his pains beguil'd;  ather than his figuresof speech   Byarte
The Mother bade him from the loft refrain,                re             s          f  the
But, though with caution, yet he went again;    ost remarkable thing in his writings, is the
And now his tales the sailor feebly told,'    prodigious mass of original observations and
His heart was heavy, and his limbs were cold!  reflections they every where exhibit; and that
The tender boy came often to entreat          extraordinary power of conceiving and repreHis good kind friend would of his presents eat:    senting an imaginary object, whether physical
Purloin'd or purchased, for he saw, with shame,   or intellectual with such a rich and complete
The food untouch'd that to his Uncle came;
Who, sick in body and in mind, receiv'd       accompaniment of circumstances and details,
The Boy's indulgence, gratified and griev'd!  as few ordinary observers either perceive or
"Once in a week the Father came to say,     remember in realities; a power which, though' George, are you ill?'-and hurried him away;    often greatly misapplied, must for ever entitle
Yet to his wife would on their duties dwell,  him  to the very first rank among descriptive
And often cry,'Do use my brother well;'
And something kind, no question, Isaac meant,    poets; and, when directed to worthy objects
And took vast credit for the vague intent.   to a rank inferior to none in the highest de"But, truly kind, the gentle Boy essay'd    partments of poetry.
To cheer his Uncle, firm, although afraid;      In such an author, the attributes of style
But now the Father caught him at the door,    and versification may fairly be considered as
And, swearing-yes, the Man in Office swore,  secondary;-and yet, if we were to go miAnd cried,'Away! —How! Brother, I'm surpris'd, nutely into them
That one so old can be so ill advis'd,'" &c., hey would afford room for
pp. 370-371.   a still longer chapter than that which we are
now concluding. He cannot be said to be
After the catastrophe, he endures deserved uniformly, or even generally, an elegant writer.
remorse and anguish.                          His style is not dignified-and neither very'" He takes his Son, and bids the boy unfold  pure nor very easy.  Its characters are force,
All the good Uncle of his feelings told,      precision, and familiarity;-now  and  then
All he lamented-and the ready tear            obscure-sometimes vulgar, and sometimes
Falls as he listens, sooth'd, and griev'd to hear.    quaint. With a great deal of tenderness, and
"'Did he not curse me, child?'-'He never curs'd, occasional fits of the sublime of despair and
But could not breathe, and said his heart would agony, there is a want of habitual fire and of
burst:' —                    [pray; a tone of enthusiasm  in the general tenor of'And so will mine!'-' Then, Father, you must
My Uncle said it took his pains away.' -p. 374.  his writings.  He seems to recollect rather
than invent; and frequently brings forward
The last tale in the volume. entitled, "The his statements more in the temper of a cauLearned Boy," is not the most interesting in tious and conscientious witness, than of a ferthe collection; though it is ruot in the least like vent orator or impassioned spectator.  His
what its title would lead us to expect. It is similes are almost all elaborate and ingenious,
the history of a poor, weakly, paltry lad, who and rather seem to be furnished from  the efis sent up from the country to be a clerk in forts of a fanciful mind, than to be exhaled
town; and learns by slow degrees to affect by the spontaneous ferment of a heated imfreethinking, and to practise dissipation. Upon agination. His versification again is frequently
the tidings of which happy conversion his harsh and heavy. and his diction fiat and
father, a worthy old farmer, orders him down prosaic;-both seeming to be altogether nego
again to the country, where he harrows up lected in his zeal for the accuracy and comthe soul of his pious grandmother by his in- plete rendering of his conceptions.  These
fidel prating-and his father reforms him at defects too are infinitely greater in his recent
once by burning his idle books, and treating  than in his early compositions.  " The Vil.
him with a vigorous course of horsewhipping. lage" is written, upon the whole, in a flowing
There is some humour in this tale;-and a and sonorous strain of versification; and "Sir
great deal of nature and art, especially in the Eustace Grey," though a late publication, is
delineation of this slender clerk's gradual in general remarkably rich and melodious.
corruption-and in the constant and constitu- It is chiefly in his narratives and curious/detional predominance of weakness and folly, scriptions that these faults of diction and
in all his vice and virtue-his piety and pro- measure are conspicuous. Where he is warmfaneness.                                     ed by his subject, and becomes fairly indigWe have thus gone through the better part nant or pathetic, his language is often very
of this volume with a degree of minuteness sweet and beautiful. He has no fixed system
for which we are not sure that even our poet- or manner of versification; but mixes several




CRABBE'S TALES OF THE HALL.                            40b'
rerwy opposite styles, as it were by accident i It is no great matter. If he will only write a
and not in general very judiciously; —what is few more Tales of the kind we have suggested
peculiar to himself is not good, and strikes us at the beginning of this article, we shall enas being both abrupt and affected.        gage for it that he shall have our praises-and
He may profit, if he pleases, by these hints those of more fastidious critics-whatever be
-and, if he pleases, he may laugh at them. the qualities of his style or versification.
(3 u t,  1819.)
Tales of the Hall. By the Reverend GEORGE CRABBE. 2 vols. 8vo. pp. 670. London: 1819.
MR. CRABBE is the greatest mannerist, per- but their combination-in such proportions at
haps, of all our living poets; and it is rather least as occur in this instance-may safely be
unfortunate that the most prominent features pronounced to be original.
of' his mannerism are not the most pleasing.   Extraordinary, however as this combination
The homely, quaint, and prosaic style-the must appear, it does not seem very difficult
flat, and often broken and jingling versification to conceive in what way it may have arisen,
-the eternal full-lengths of low and worth- and, so far from regarding it as a proof of sinless characters-with their accustomed gar- gular humorousness, caprice, or affectation
nishings of sly jokes and familiar moralising-  in the individual: we are rather inclined to
are all on the surface of his writings; and are hold that something approaching to it must be
almost unavoidably the things by which we the natural result of a long habit of observaare first reminded of him, when we take up tion in a man of genius, possessed of that
any of his new productions. Yet they are not temper and disposition which is the usual acthe things that truly constitute his peculiar companiment of such a habit; and that the
manner; or give that character by which he same strangely compounded and apparently
will, and ought to be, remembered with future incongruous assemblage.of themes and sentige.nerations. It is plain enough, indeed. that ments would be frequently produced under
these are things that will make nobody re- such circumstances-if authors had oftener
membered-and can never, therefore, be re- the courage to write from their own impresally characteristic of some of the most original sions, and had less fear of the laugh or wonand powerful poetry that the world has ever der of the more shallow and barren part of
seen.                                     their readers.
Mr. C., accordingly, has other gifts; and   A great talent for observation, and a delight
those not less peculiar or less strongiv marked in the exercise of it-the power and the practice
than the blemishes with wliich they are con- of dissecting and disentangling that subtle and
trasted; an unrivalled and almost magical complicated tissue, of habit, and self-love, and
power of observation, resulting in descriptions affection, which constitute human characterso true to nature as to strike us rather as seems to us, in all cases, to imply a contemtranscripts than imitations-an anatomy of plative, rather than an active disposition. It
character and feeling not less exquisite and can only exist, indeed, where there is a good
searching-an occasional touch of matchless deal of social sympathy; for, without this, the
tenderness-and a deep and dreadful pathetic, occupation could excite no interest, and afford
interspersed by fits, and strangely interwoven no satisfaction-but only such a measure and
with the most minute and humble of his de- sort of sympathy as is gratified by being a
tails. Add to all this the sure and profound spectator, and not an actor on the great theatre
sagacity of the remarks with which he every of life-and leads its possessor rather to look
now and then startles us in the midst of very with eagerness on the feats and the fortunes
unambitious discussions;-and the weight and of others, than to take a share for himself in
terseness of the maxims which he drops, like the game that is played before him. Some
oracular responses, on occasions that give no stirring and vigorous spirits there are, nc
jromise of such a revelation;-and last though doubt, in which this taste and -talent is comhot least, that sweet and seldom  sounded bined with a more thorough and effective
chord of Lyrical inspiration, the lightest touch sympathy; and leads to the study of men's!of which instantl chars way all harshness characters by an actual and hearty particifrom His num.bers, and all lownessm       pation in their various passions and pursuits;
tei         at once exalts him to-  a evel -though it is to be remarked, that when such
wittVttie most energetic and inventive poets persons embody their observations in writing.
of his age.                               they will generally be found to exhibit their
These, we think, are the true characteristics characters in action, rather than to describe
f the genius of this great writer; and it is in them in the abstract; and to let their various
their mixture with the oddities and defects to personages disclose themselves and their pewhich we have already alluded, that the pe- culiarities, as it were spontaneously, and with~uliarity of his manner seems to us substan- out help or preparation, in their ordinary
tially to consist. The ingredients may all of conduct and speech-of all which we have a
them be found, we suppose, in other writers; very splendid and striking example in the




406                                    POETRY.
Tales of My Landlord, and the other pieces originally mingled in his composition.-Yel
of that extraordinary writer. In the common satirists, we think, have not in general been
case, however, a great observer, we believe, ill-natured persons-and we are inclined ra.
will be found, pretty certainly, to be a person ther to ascribe this limited and unchartable
of a shy and retiring tempe —who does not application of their powers of observation to
mingle enough with the people he surveys, to their love of fame and popularity,-Whch are
be heated with their passions, or infected with well known to be best secured by scrilT
their delusions-and who has usually been ridicule or invective-or, quite as p       y
led, indeed, to take up the office of a looker indeed, to the narrowness and insufficency
on, from some little infirmity of nerves, or of the observations themselves, and the imweakness of spirits, which has unfitted him  perfection of their talents for their due confrom playing a more active part on the busy duct and extension. It is certain, at least we
scene of existence.                        think, that the satirist makes use but of Calf
Now, it is very obvious, we think, that this the discoveries of the observer; and teaches
contemplative turn, and this alienation from  but half-and the worser half-of the lessons
the vulgar pursuits of mankind, must in the which may be deduced from his occupation.
first place, produce a great contempt for most He puts down, indeed, the proud pretensions
of those pursuits, and the objects they seek of the great and arrogant, and levels the vain
to obtain-a levelling of the factitious distinc- distinctions which human ambition has estions which human pride and vanity have es- tablishled among the brethren of mankind; —
tablished in the world, and a mingled scorn he
and compassion for the lofty pretensions under "Bares the mean heart that lurks beneath a Star,"
which men so often disguise the nothingness
of their chosen occupations. When the many- -and destroys the illusions which would
coloured scene of life, with all its petty agi- limit our sympathy to the forward and figurtations, its shifting pomps, and perishable ing persons of this world-the favourites of
passions, is surveyed by one who does not fame and fortune. But the true result of obmix in its business, it is impossible that it servation should be, not so much to cast down
should not appear a very pitiable and almost the proud, as to raise up the lowly; —not so
ridiculous affair; or that the heart should not much to diminish our sympathy with the
echo back the brief and emphatic exclama- powerful and renowned, as to extend it to all,
tion of the mighty dramatist-               who, in humbler conditions, have the same,
or still higher claims on our esteem or affec-— ~'; Life's a poor player,    tion.It is not surely the natural consequence
Who frets and struts his hour upon the stage,  tion.-It is not surely the natural consequence
And then is heard no more!"-             of learning to judge truly of the characters of
Or the more sarcastic amplification of it, in men, that we should despise or be indifferent
Or the more sarcastic amplification of about them all; —and, though we have learned
the words of our great moral poet —
to see through the false glare which plays
"Behold the Child, by Nature's kindly law,  round the envied summits of existence, and
Pleas'd with a rattle, tickl'd with a straw!  to know how little dignity, or happiness, or
Some livelier plaything gives our Youth delight, worth, or wisdom
A little louder, but as empty quite: 
Scarfs, garters, gold our riper years engage  the possessors     power, and fortune, and
And beads and prayer-books are the toys of Age! learning and renown,-it does not follow, by
Pleas'd with this bauble still as that before,    any means, that we should look upon the
Till tir'd we sleep-and Life's poor play is o'er!" whole of human life as a mere deceit and
This is the more solemn view of the sub- imposture, or think the concerns of our species
ject: -Bt the first fruits  of observation are fit subjects only for scorn and derision. Our
most commonly found to issue in Satire-the promptitude to admire and to envy will indeed
unmasking the vain pretenders to wisdom, be corrected, our enthusiasm abated, and our
and worth, and happiness, with whom society
is infested, and holding up to the derision of sympathies and affections of our nature will
mankind those meannesses of the great those continue, and be better directed-our love of
miseries.of thse fortunate, and those gratoour kind twill not be diminished-and our inearsof the brtave, andl   those  dulgence for their faults and follies, if we read
" Fears of the brave, and follies of the wise,"   our lesson aright, will be signally strengthenwhich the eye of a dispassionate observer so ed and confirmed. The true and proper effect,
quickly detects under the glittering exterior therefore, of a habit of observation, and a
by which they would fain be disguised-and thorough and penetrating'knowledge of human
which bring pretty much to a level the intel- character, will be, not to extinguish our symlect, and morals, and enjoyments, of the great pathy, but to extend it-to turn, no doubt,
mass of mankind.                           many a throb of admiration, and many a sigh
This misanthropic end has unquestionably of love into a smile of derision or of pity;
been by far the most common result of a habit but at the same time to reveal much that
of observation; and that in which its effects commands our homage and excites our affechave most generally terminated: —Yet we  ion, in those humble and unexplored regions
cannot bring ourselves to think that it is their of the heart and understanding, which never
just or natural termination. Something, no engage the attention of the incurious, —and to
doubt will depend on the temper of the indi- bring the whole family of mankind nearer to
vidual, and the proportions in which the gall a level, by finding out latent merits as well as
and the milk of human kindness have been latent defects in all its members, and com.




CRABBE'S TALES OF THE HALL.                             407
pensating the flaws that are detected in the terises sufficiently the satirical vein of out
boasted ornaments of life, by bringing to light author: But the other j'extensive
the richness and the lustre that sleep in the and im.n           e vugar sources
mines beneath its surface.                of interest in poetical narratives, and reducing
We are afraid some of our readers may not  jLideal persons to the standard of -rea_' tat once perceive the application of these pro- Mr. C. does by no means seek to extinguish
found remarks to the subject immediately be- the sparks of human sympathy within us; or
fore us. But there are others, we doubt not, to throw any damp on the curiosity with which
who do not need to be told that they are we naturally explore the characters of each
intended to explain how Mr. Crabbe, and other other. On the contrary, he has afforded new
persons with the same gift of observation, and more wholesome food for all those pro-i
should so often busy themselves with what pensities-and, by placing before us those
may be considered as low and vulgar charac- details which our pride or fastidiousness is so
ters; and, declining all dealings with heroes apt to overlook, has disclosed, in all their
and heroic topics, should not only venture to truth and simplicity, the native and unadulseek for an interest in the concerns of ordinary terated workings of those affections which are
mortals, but actually intersperse small pieces at the bottom of all social interest, and are
of ridicule with their undignified pathos, and really rendered less touching by the exaggeendeavour to make their readers look on their rations of more ambitious artists-while he
-ooks with the same mingled feelings of com- exhibits, with admirable force and endless
passion and amusement, with which-unnat- variety, all those combinations of passions and
ural as it may appear to the readers of poetry opinions, and all that cross-play of selfishness
-they, and all judicious observers, actually and vanity, and indolence and ambition, and
look upon human life and human nature.- habit and reason, which make up the intelThis, we are persuaded, is the true key to the lectual character of individuals, and present
greater part of the peculiarities of the author to every one an instructive picture of his
before us; and though we have disserted neighbour or himself. Seeing, by the perupon it a little longer than was necessary, we fection of his art, the master passions in their
really think it may enable our readers to com- springs, and the high capacities in their rudi
prehend him, and our remarks on him, some- ments-and having acquired the gift of tracing
thing better than they could have done with- all the propensities and marking tendencies
out it.                                   of our plastic nature, in their first slight indiThere is, as everybody must have felt, a cations, or even from the aspect of the dis
strange mixture of satire and sympathy in guises they so often assume, he does not
all his productions-a great kindliness and need, in order to draw out his characters in
compassion for the errors and sufferings of all their life and distinctness, the vulgar deour poor human nature, but a strong distrust monstration of those striking and decided
of its heroic virtues and high pretensions. actions by which their maturity is proclaimed
His heart is always open to pity, and all the even to the careless and inattentive; —but
milder emotions-but there is little aspiration delights to point out to his readers, the seeds
after the grand and sublime of character, nor or tender filaments of those talents and feelvery much encouragement for raptures and ings which wait only for occasion and opporecstasies of any description. rThese, he seem  tunity to burst out and astonish the worldto think, are things-rather too fine for the said and to accustom them to trace, in characters
poor human nature: and that, in our low an  and actions apparently of the most ordinary
erring condition, it is a little ridiculous to pre  description, the self-same attributes that. untend, either to very exalted and immaculate der other circumstances, would attract univirtue, ox very pure and exquisite happiness. versal attention, and furnish themes for the
He not only never meddles, therefore, wit! most popular and impassioned descriptions.
the delicate distresses and noble fires of the   That he should not be guided in the choice
heroes and heroines of tragic and epic fable, of his subject by any regard to the rank or
but may generally be detected indulging in a condition which his persons hold in society,
lurking sneer at the pomp and vanity of all may easily be imagined; and, with a view to
such superfine imaginations — and turning the ends he aims at, might readily be forfrom them, to draw men in their true postures given. But we fear that his passion for oband dimensions, and with all the imperfec- servation, and the delight he takes in tracing
tions that actually belong to their condition:-  out and analyzing all the little traits that inthe prosperous and happy overshadowed with dicate character, and all the little circumpassing clouds of ennui, and disturbed with stances that influence it, have sometimes led
little flaws of bad humour and discontent- him to be careless about his selection of the
the great and wise beset at times with strange instances in which it was to be exhibited, or
weaknesses and meannesses and paltry vexa- at least to select them upon principles very
tions-and even the most virtuous and en- different from those which give them an inlightened falling far below the standard of terest in the eyes of ordinary readers. For
poetical perfection —and stooping every now  the purpose of mere anatomy, beauty of form
and then to paltry jealousies and prejudices —  or complexion are things quite indifferent;
or sinking into shabby sensualities-or medi- and the physiologist, who examines plants
tating on their own excellence and import- only to study their internal structure, and to
snce, with a ludicrous and lamentable anxiety. make himself master of the contrivances by
This is one side of the picture; and charac- which their various functions are performed




O48                                   POETRY.
pays no lega.rd to the brilliancy of their hues, less that is horrible, and nothing that can be
the sweetness of their odours. or the graces said to be absolutely disgusting; and the pic.
of their form. Those who come to him  for ture which is afforded of society and humar
the sole purpose of acquiring knowledge may nature is, on the whole, much less painful
participate perhaps in this indifference; but and degrading. There is both less misery
the world at large will wonder at them-and and less guilt; and, while the same searching
he will engage fewer pupils to listen to his and unsparing glance is sent into all the dark
instructions, than if he had condescended in caverns of the breast, and the truth brought
some degree to consult their predilections in forth with the same stern impartiality, the
the beginning. It is the same case, we think, result is more comfortable and cheering. The
in many respects, with Mr. Crabbe. Relying greater part of the characters are rather more
for the interest he is to produce, on the curi- elevated in station, and milder and more
ous expositions he is to make of the elements amiable in disposition; while the accidents
of human character, or at least finding his of life are more mercifully managed, and forown chief gratification in those subtle inves- tunate circumstances more liberally allowed.'tigations. he seems to care very little upon It is rather remarkable, too, that Mr. Crabbe.what particular individuals he pitches for the seems to become more amorous as he grows
purpose of these demonstrations.  Almost older,-the interest of almost all the stories
every human mind. he seems to think. may in his collection turning on the tender passerve to disp la  that fine and mysterious sion-and many of them on its most romantic
mechanism- w                  ht to ex lorevarieties.
ip expa —and  almost every condition,   The plan of the work,-for it has rather
I- hfistory of life, afford occasions to more of plan and unity than any of the forshow how it may be put into action, and pass mer,-is abundantly simple. Two brothers,
through its various combinations.  It seems, both past middle age, meet together for the
therefore, almost as if he had caught up the first time since their infancy, in the Hall of
first dozen or two of persons that came across their native parish, which the elder and richer
him in the ordinary walks of life,-and then had purchased as a place of retirement for
fitting in his little window in their breasts, his declining age-and there tell each other
and applying his tests and instruments of ob- their own history, and then that of their guests,
servation, had set himself about such a minute neighbours, and acquaintances. The senior
and curious scrutiny of their whole habits, is much the richer, and a bachelor-having
history, adventures, and dispositions, as he been a little distasted with the sex by the
thought must ultimately create not only a unlucky result of an early and very extravafamiliarity, but an interest, which the first gant passion. He is, moreover, rather too
aspect of the subject was far enough from  reserved and sarcastic, and somewhat Toryleading any one to expect.  That he suc- ish, though with an excellent heart and a
ceeds more frequently than could have been powerful understanding. The younger is very
anticipated, we are very willing to allowv. sensible also, but ioore open, social, and talkBut we cannot help feeling, also, that a little ative-a happy husband and father. with a
are pains bestowed in the selection of his tendency to Whiggism, and some notion of
characters, would have made his power of reform-and'a disposition to think well both
observation and description tell with tenfold of men and women. The visit lasts two or
effect; and that, in spite of the exquisite three weeks in autumn; and the Tales, which
truth of his delineations, and the fineness of make up the volume, are told in the after
the perceptions by which he was enabled to dinner tNte  W totes that take place in that time
make them, it is impossible to take any con- between the worthy brothers over their bottle.
siderable interest in many of his personages, The married man,'however, wearies at length
or to avoid feeling some degree of fatigue at for his wife and children; and his brother lets
the minute and patient exposition that is him go, with more coldness than he had exmade of all that belongs to them.          pected. He goes with him, however, a stage
These remarks are a little too general, we on the way; and, inviting him to turn aside a
believe —and are not introduced with strict little to look at a new purchase he had made
propriety at the head of our fourth article on of a sweet farm with a neat mansion, he finds
Mr. Crabbe's productions. They have drawn his wife and  children comfortably settled
out, however, to such a length, that we can there, and all dressed out and ready to reafford to say but little of the work imme- ceive them! and speedily discovers that he
diately before us. It is marked with all the is, by his brother's bounty, the proprietor of
characteristics that we have noticed, either a fair domain within a morning's ride of the
now or formerly, as distinctive of his poetry. Hall-where they may discuss politics, and
On the whole, however, i' has certainly fewer tell tales any afternoon they think proper.
of the grosser faults-and fewer too, perhaps;   Though their own stories anrd descriptions
of the more exquisite passages which occur are not, in our opinion, the best in the work,
in his former publications. There is nothing it is but fair to introduce these narrative broat least that has struck us. in going over these thers and their Hall a little more particularly
volumes, as equal in elegance to Phoebe Daw- to our readers. The history of the elder and
son in the Register, or in pathetic effect to the more austere is not particularly probableConvict's Dream. or Edward Shore. or the nor veryinteresting; but it affords many pas.
Parting Hour, or the Sailor dying beside his sages extremely characteristic of the author,
Sweetheart. On the other hand, there is far He was a spoiled child, and grew up into a




CRABBE'S TALES OF THE HALL.                                 409
yvalth of a romantic and cortemplative turn- That sun-excluding window gives the loim;
dreaming, in his father's rural abode, of di- Those broad brown stairs on which he loves to
vine nymphs and damsels all passion and               tread;
Those beams within; without, that length of lead,
purity.  One day he had the good luck to  On which the names of wanton boys appear,
rescue a fair lady from a cow, and fell des- Who died old men, and left memorials here,
perately in love:-Though he never got to  Carvings of feet and hands, and knots and flowers,
speech of his charmer, who departed from  The fruits of busy minds in idle hours."
the place where she was on a visit, and                                   Vol. i. pp. 4-6.
eluded the eager search with which he pur-   So much for Squire George-unless any
sued her, in town and country, for many a reader should care to know, as Mr. Crabbe
long year: For this foolish and poetical pas- has kindly told, that-" The Gentleman was
sion settled down on his spirits; and neither tall.; and, moreover "Looked old when foltime nor company, nor the business of a Lon- lowed, but alert when met."'  Of Captain
don banker, could effect a diversion. At last, Richard, the story is more varied and ramat the end of ten or twelve years-for the fit bling. He was rather neglected in his youth;
lasted that unreasonable time —being then an and passed his time, when a boy, very much,
upper clerk in his uncle's bank, he stumbled  as we cannot help supposing, Mr. Crabbe
upon. his Dulcihea in a very unexpected way must have passed his own. He ran wild in
-and a way that no one but Mr. Crabbe the neighbourhood of a seaport, and found
would either have thought of-or thought of occupation enough in its precincts.
describing in verse. In short, he finds her
established as the chere amie of another re- Sphere crowds assembled I was sure to run
esctablished as the cre a.ie of another re-   Hear what was said, and muse on what was done;
spectable banker! and after the first shock is Attentive list'ning in the moving scene,
over, sets about considering how he may re- And often wond'ring what the men could mean.
claim her. The poor Perdita professes peni- "To me the wives of seamen lov'd to tell
tence; and he offers to assist and support her What storms endanger'd men esteem'd so well;
if she will abandon her evil courses.  The  What wondrous things in foreign parts they saw,
following passage is fraught with a deep and  Lands without bounds, and people without law.
a melancholy knowledge of character and of ":No ships were wreck'd upon that fatal beach,
human nature.                                 But I could give the luckless tale of each;
Eager I look'd, till I beheld a face
"She vow'd —she tried!-Alas! she did not know  Of one dispos'd to paint their dismal case;
How deeply rooted evil habits grow!           Who gave the sad survivors' doleful tale,
She felt the truth tipon her spirits press,   From the first brushing of the mighty gale
But wanted ease, indulgence, show, excess;    Until they struck   and, suffering in their fate,
Voluptuous banquets; pleasures-not refin'd,   I long'd the more they should its horrors state;
But such as soothe to sleep th' opposing mind-    While some, the fond of pity, would enjoy
She look'd for idle vice, the time to kill,'he earnest sorrows of the feeling boy.
And subtle, strong apologies for ill; 
And thus her yielding, unresisting soul,      " There were fond girls, who took me to their side,
Sank, and let sin confuse her and control:    To tell the story how their lovers died!
Pleasures that brought disgust yet brought relief,  They prais'd my tender heart, and bade me prove
And minds she hated help'd to war with grief."   Both kind and constant when I came to love!"
Vol. i. p. 163.  Once he saw a boat upset; and still recol.
As her health fails, however, her relapses lects enough to give this spirited sketch of the
become less frequent; and at last she dies, scene.
grateful and resigned. Her awakened lover
is stunned by the blow-takes seriously to  "Then were those piercing shrieks, that frantic
businessand is in danger of becoming ava-All hurried! all in tumult and affright! [flight,
A  gathering crowd from different streets drew
ricious; when a severe illness rouses him to         near,
higher thoughts, and he takes his name out All ask, all answer-none attend, none hear!
of the firm. and, being turned of sixty, seeks,! how impatient on the sands we tread,
a place of retirement.                        And the winds roaring, and the women led!
"oHe chose his native village, and the hill   They know not who in either boat is gone,
He climb'd a  boy had its attraction still;  But think the father, husband, lover, one.
With that small brook beneath, where he would "And whois she apart! She dares not come
And stooping fill the hollow of his hand,  [stand, To oin the crowd, yet cannot rest at home:
To quench th' impatient thirst-then stop awhile   With what strong interest looks she at the waves,
To see the sun upon the waters smile,         Meeting and clashing o'er the seamen's graves!
In that sweet weariness, when, long denied,'Tis a poor girl betroth'd-a few hours more,
We drink and view the fountain that supplied  And he will lie a corpse upon the shore!
The sparkling bliss-and, feel, if not express,  One wretched hour had pass'd before we knew
Our perfect ease, in that sweet weariness.    Whom they had sav'd! Alas! they were but two!
" The oaks yet flourish'd in that fertile ground,    An orphan'd lad and widow'd man-no more!
Where still the church with lofty tower was found; And they unnoticed stood upon the shore,
And still that Hall, a first, a favourite view," &c.  With scarce a friend to greet them-widows view'd
This man and boy, and-then their cries renew'd."
" The Hall of Binning! his delight a boy,
That gave his fancy in her flight employ;    He also pries into the haunts of the smugHere, from his father's modest home, he gaz'd,    glers and makes friends with the shepherds
Its grandeur charm'd him, and its height amaz'd:-  on the downs in summer; and then he be
Now, young no more, retir'd to views well known,
He finds that object of his awe his own;     comes intimate with an old sailo's wife, to
The Hall at Binning!-how he loves the gloom  whom  he reads sermons, and histories and




410                                    POETRY.
jest books, and hymns, and indelicate bal-   Richard afterwards te.ls how he left the
lads! The character of this woman is one sea and entered the army, and fought and
of the many examples of talent and labour marched in the Peninsula; and how he came
misapplied.  It is very powerfully, and, we home and fell in love with a parson's daughdoubt not, very truly drawn-but it will ter, and courted and married her;-and he
attract few readers.  Yet the story she is at tells it all very prettily,-and, moreover that
last brought to tell of her daughter will com- he is very happy, and very fond of his wife
mand a more general interest.                and children.  But we must now take the
Adelphi out of doors; and let them  intro" Ruth-I may tell, too oft had she been told!-    duce some of their acquaintances.  Among
Was tall and fair, and comely to behold,     the first to whom we are presented are two
Gentle and simple; in her native place
Not one compared with her in form or face;   sisters, still in te bloom  of life who  had
She was not merry, but she gave our hearth   been cheated out of a handsome independA cheerful spirit that was more than mirth.  ence by the cunning of a speculating banker,
and deserted by their lovers in consequence
" There was a sailor boy, and people said    of this calamity.  Their characters are drawn
He was, as man, a likeness of the maid;      with infinite skill and minuteness, and their
But not in this-for he was ever glad,        with infinite skil and minuteness, and their
While Ruth was apprehensive, mild, and sad."-  whole story told  with  great feeling  and
beauty;-but it is difficult to make extracts.
They are betrdthed-and something more    The  prudent suitor of the milder aad
than betrothed-when, on the eve of their more serious sister, sneaks pitifully away
wedding-day, the youth is carried relent- when their fortune changes.  The bolder
lessly off by a press-gang; and soon after lover of the more elate and gay, seeks to take
is slain in battle!-and a preaching weaver a baser advantage.
then woos, with nauseous perversions of
scripture, the  loathing and widower d briode. "Then made he that attempt, in which to fail
Is shameful,-still more shameful to prevail.
This picture, too, is strongly drawn;-but Then was there lightning in that eye that shed
we hasten to a scene of far more power as Its beams upon him, —and his frenzy fled;
well as pathos. Her father urges her to wed Abject and trembling at her feet he laid,
the missioned suitor; and she agrees to give Despis'd and scorn'd by the indignant maid,
her answer on Sunday.                        Whose spirits in their agitation rose,
Him, and her own weak pity, to oppose:
" She left her infant on the Sunday morn,    As liquid silver in the tube mounts high,
A creature doom'd to shame! i n sorrow born.  Then shakes and settles as the storm goes by!" —
She came not home to share our humble meal,-    The effects of this double trial on their
Her father thinking what his child would feel
From his hard sentence!-Still she came not home. different tempers are also very finely deThe night grew dark, and yet she was not come!  scribed.  The gentler Lucy is the most reThe east-wind roar'd, the sea return'd the sound,  signed and magnanimous.  The more aspiAnd the rain fell as if the world were drown'd:    ring Jane  suffers far keener anguish and
There were no lights without, and my good man,  fiercer impatience; and the task of soothing
To kindness frighten'd, with a groan began   and cheering her devolves on her generous
To talk of Ruth, and pray! and then he took
The Bible down, and read the holy book;      sister. Her fancy, too, is at times a little
For he had learning: and when that was done  touched by her afflictions —and she writes
We sat in silence-whither could we run,      wild and melancholy verses. The wanderWe said-and then rush'd frighten'd from the door, ings of her reason are represented in a very
For we could bear our own conceit no more:   affectin  manner;-but we  rather choose to
We call'd on neighbours-there she had not been;but we rather choose to
We met some wanderers-ours they had not seen; quote the following verses, which appear to
We hurried o'er the beach, both north and south,  us to be eminently beautiful, and makes us
Then join'd, and wander'd to our haven's mouth:  regret that Mr. Crabbe should have indulged
Where rush'd the falling waters wildly out,  us so seldom with those higher lyrical effu
I scarcely heard the good man's fearful shout,  gons.
Who saw a something on the billow ride,
And-Heaven have mercy on our sins! he cried,    "Let me not have this gloomy view,
It is my child!-and to the present hour             About my room, around my bed!
So he believes-and spirits have the power!         But morning roses, wet with dew,
To cool my burning brows instead.
"And she was gone! the waters wide and deep       Like flowv'rs that once in Eden grew,
Roli'd o'er her body as she lay asleep!             Let them their fragrant spirits shed,
She heard no more the angry waves and wind,        And every day the sweets renew,
She heard no more the threat'ning of'mankind;        Till I, a fading flower, am dead!
Wrapt in dark weeds, the refuse of the storm,
To the hard rock was borne her comely form!     "I'll have my grave beneath a hill,
Where only Lucy's self shall know;
"But O! what storm was in that mind! what          Where runs the pure pellucid rill
strife,                                      Upon its gravelly bed below;
That could compel her to lay down her life!       There violets on the borders blow,
For she was seen within the sea to wade,            And insects their soft light display,
By one at distance, when she first had pray'd;     Till as the morning sunbeams glow,
Then to a rock within the hither shoal,              The cold, phosphoric fires decay.
Softly. and with a fearful step, she stole;
Then, when she gain'd it, on the top she stood   "There will the lark, the lamb, in sport,
A moment still-and dropt into the flood!            In air, on earth, securely play,
The man cried loudly, but he cried in vain,-       And Lucy to my grave resort,
She heard not then-she never heard again!" —        As innocent, but not so gay.




CRABBE'S TALES OF THE HALL.                                    411
O! take me from a world I hate,         part of his vow.  Sir Owen, still mad for ven.
Men cruel, selfish, sensual, cold;     geance, rages at the proposal; and, to confirm
And, in some pure and blessed state,
LetAnd, in some my sister mind blessed state,  his relentless purpose, makes a visit to one,
Let me my sister minds behold:
From gross and sordid views refin'd,     who had better cause, and had formerly exOur heaven of spotless love to share,  pressed equal thirst for revenge.  This was
For only generous souls design'd,        one of the higher class of his tenantry-an inAnd not a Man to meet us there."       telligent, manly, good-humoured farmer, who
Vol. i. pp. 212-215. had married the vicar's pretty niece, and lived
" The Preceptor Husband " is exceedingly in great comfort and comparative elegance,
well managed-but  is rather too facetious for till an idle youth seduced her from  his arms,
our present mood.  The old bachelor, who  and left him  in rage and misery.  It is here
had been five times on the brink of matri- that the interesting part of the story begins;
mony, is mixed up of sorrow  and mirth  -  and few things can be more powerful or strikbut we cannot make room for any extracts, ing than the scenes that ensue.  Sir Owen
except the following inimitable description inquires whether he had found the objects of
of the first coming on of old age,-though  his just indignation.  He at first evades the
we feel assured, somehow, that  this mali- question; but at length opens his heart, and
(cious observer has mistaken the date of these tells him all. We can afford to give but a
ugly symptoms; and brought them into view small part of thedialogue.
nine or ten, or, at all events, six or seven years' Twice the year came roundtoo early.                                     Years hateful now-ere I my victims found:
But I did find them, in the dungeon's gloom
"Six years had pass'd, and forty ere the six,  Of a small garret-a precarious home;
When'i'ime began to play his usual tricks!   The roof, unceil'd in patches, gave the snow
The locks once comely in a virgin's sight, [white; Entrance within, and there were heaps below;
Locks of pure brown, display'd th' encroaching  I pass'd a narrow region dark and cold,
The blood once fervid now to cool began,       The strait of stairs to that infectious hold;
And Time's strong pressure to subdue the man:   And, when I enter'd, misery met my view
I rode or walk'd as I was wont before,         In every shape she wears, in every hue,
But now the bounding spirit was no more;       And the bleak icy blast across the dungeon flew.
A moderate pace would now my. body heat,       There frown'd the ruin'd walls that once were white
A walk of moderate length distress my feet.    There gleam'd the panes that once admitted light,
I show'd my stranger-guest those hills sublime,    There lay unsavory scraps of wretched food;
But said,' the view is poor, we need not climb!'  And there a measure, void of fuel, stood.
At a friend's mansion I began to dread         But who shall, part by part, describe the state
The cold neat parlour, and the gay glazed bed;    Of these, thus follow'd by relentless fate?
At home I felt a more decided taste,           All, too, in winter, when the icy air
And must have all things in my order placed;   Breathed its black venom on the guilty pair.
I ceas'd to hunt; my horses'pleased me less,
My dinner more! I learn'd to play at chess;    "' And could you know the miseries they endur'd,
I took my dog and gun, but saw the brute       The poor, uncertain pittance they procur'd;
Was disappointed that I did not shoot;         When, laid aside the needle and the pen,
My morning walks I now could bear to lose,     Their sickness won the neighbours of their den,
And bless'dthe shower that gave me not to choose: Poor as they are, and they are passing poor,
In fact, I felt a langour stealing on;        To lend some aid to those who needed more!
The active arm, the agile hand were gone;      Then, too, an ague with the winter came,
Small daily actions into habits grew,          And in this state-that wife I cannot name!
And new dislike to forms and fashions new;     Brought forth a famish'd child of suffering and of
I lov'd my trees in order to dispose,                  shame!
I number'd peaches, look'd how stocks arose, "'This had you known, and traced them to thit
Told the same story oft-in short, began to prose."  Where all was desolate,  and traced them to thscene
Vol. i. pp. 260, 261.   Where all was desolate, defiled, unclean,  [scene
Vol. i. pp. 260, 261. A fireless room, and, where a fire had place,
"The Maid's Story " is rather long-though  The blast loud howling down the empty space,
You must have felt a part of the distress,
it has many passages that must be favourites Forgot your wrongs, and made their suffering less 
with  Mr. Crabbe's admirers.  "Sir Owen
Dale I is too long also; but it is one of the best  * "' In that vile garret-which I cannot paintin the collection and must not be discussed  The sight was loathsome, and the smell was faint
in the collection. and must not be discussed  And there that wife,-whom I had lov'd so well
And there that wife,-whom I had lov'd so well,
so shortly.  Sir Owen, a proud, handsome  And thought so happy! was condemn'd to dwell;
man, is left a widower at forty-three, and is The gay, the grateful wife, whom I was glad
soon after jilted by a young lady of twenty; To see in dress beyond our station clad,
who, after amusing herself by encouraging his And to behold among our neighbours, fine,
assiduities, at last meets his long-expected  1More than perhaps became a wife of mine:
assiduities at last meets his long-expected  And now among her neighbours to explore,
declaration with a very innocent surprise at And see her poorest of the very poor!
finding her familiarity with  "such an old  There she reclin'd unmov'd, her bosom bare
friend of her father's " so strangely miscon- To her companion's unimpassion'd stare,
strued. The knight, of course, is furious;*- And my wild wonder:-Seat of virtue! chaste
and, to revenge himself, looks out for a hand- As lovely once! O! how wert thou disgrac'd!
l!pon that breast, by sordid rags defil'd,
some young nephew, whom he engages to lay  Lay the wan features of dia famishd child; —
siege to her, and, after having won her affec- That sin-born babe in utter misery laid,
tions, to leave her,-as he had been left. The  Too feebly wretched even to cry tor aid;
lad rashly engages in the adventure; but soon  The ragged sheeting, o'er her person drawn
finds his pretended passion turning into a real Serv'd for the dress that hunger placed in pawn.
one-and entreats his uncle, on whom  he is "'At the bed's feet the man reclin'd his frame' 
lependent, to release him from the unworthy  Their chairs had perish'd to support the flame




1412                                     POETRY.
That warm'd his agued limbs; and, sad to see,    " That evening all in fond discourse was spent;
That shook him fiercely as he gaz'd on me, &c.   Till the sad lover to his chamber went,    [pent!
To think on what had past,-to grieve and to ro-''S$Le had not food, nor aught a mother needs,    Early he rose, and look'd with many a sigh
Who for another life, and dearer, feeds:       On the red light that fill'd the eastern sky;
I saw her speechless; on her wither'd breast   Oft had he stood before, alert and gay,
The wither'd child extended, but not prest,    To hail the glories of the new-born day:
Who sought, with moving lip and feeble cry,    But now dejected, languid, listless, low,
Vain instinct! for the fount without supply.  He saw the wind upon the water blow,
"' Sure it was all a grievous, odious scene,  And the cold stream curl'd onward, as the gale
Where all was dismal, melancholy, mean,        From the pine-hill blew harshly down the dale;
Foul wih comp elld neectnholeome,  a On the right side the youth a wood survey'd,
Foul with compell'd neglect, unwholesome, and  Withallitsdarkintensityofshade;
Thatarm-thunclean; eye-thecoldthesunkenc Where the rough wind alone was heard to move,
That arm-that eye-the cold, the sunken cheek-  In this the pause of nature and of love;
Spoke all!-Sir Owen —fiercely miseries speak!'   When now the young are rear'd, and when the old,
"' And you reliev'd 2'                         Lost to the tie, grow negligent and cold.
Far to the left he saw the huts of men,
"' If hell's seducing crew     Half hid in mist, that hung upon the fen;
Had seen that sight, they must have pitied too.-'  Before him swallows, gathering for the sea,
Took their short flights, and twitter'd on the lea;
I Rev*enge was thine-hthou hadst the power-the  And near, the bean-sheaf stood, the harvest done,.i ght                                And slowly blacken'd in the sickly sun!
To give it up was Heav'n's own act to slight.'  All these were sad in nature; or they took
"'Tell me not, Sir, of rights, and wrongs, or Sadness from him, the likeness of his look,
And of his mind-he ponder'd for a while,
powers!                                Then met his Fanny with a borrow'd smile."
I felt it written-Vengeance is not ours!-                                Vol ii. pp. 84, 85.''Then did you freely from your soul forgive?'The moral autumn is quite as gloomy, and
"'Sure as I hope before my Judge to live,      far more hopeless.
Sure as I trust his mercy to receive,            C The Natural Death of Love" is perhaps
Sure as his word I honour and believe,         the best written of all the pieces before us.
Sure as the Saviour died upon the tree
For all who sin-for that dear wretch, and me-    It consists of a very spirited dialogue between
Whom, never more on earth, will I forsake-or see!' a married pair, upon the causes of the difference between the days of marriage and those
Sir Owen quickly to his home return'd;         of courtship; —in which the errors and faults
And all the way he meditating dwelt            of both parties, and the petulance, impatience,
On what this man in his affliction felt;      and provoking acuteness of the lady, with the
How he, resenting first, forbore, forgave;     more reasonable and reflecting, but somewhat
His passion's lord, and not his anger's slave."  insulting manner of the gentleman, are all
Vol. ii. pp. 36-46.   exhibited to the life; and with more uniform
We always quote too much of Mr. Crabbe: delicacy and finesse than is usual with the
-perhaps because the pattern of hisarabesque author.
is so large, that there is no getting a fair speci-      Lady Barbara, or the Ghost," is a long
men of it without taking in a good space. story, and not very pleasing.  A fair widow
But we must take warning this time, and for- had been warned, or supposed she had been
bear-or at least pick out but a few  little warned, by the ghost of a beloved brother
morsels as we pass hastily along.  One of the that she would be miserable if she contracted
best managed of all the tales is that entitled  a second marriage —and then, some fifteen
A, Delay has Danger;' -which contains a very  years after, she is courted by the son of a
full, true, and particular account of the way  reverend priest, to whose house she had rein which a weakish, but well meaning young tired-and upon whom, during all the years
man, engaged on his own suit to a very amia- of his childhood, she had lavished the cares
ble girl, may be seduced, during her unlucky  of a mother.  She long resists his unnatural
absence, to entangle himself with a far in- passion; but is at length subdued by his urferior person, whose chief seduction is her gency and youthful beauty, and gives him her
apparent humility and devotion to him.         hand.  There is something rather disgusting,
We cannot give any part of the long and  we think, in this fiction-and certainly the
finely converging details by which the catas- worthy lady could not have taken no way so
trophe is brought about: But we are tempted  likely to save the ghost's credit, as by enterto venture on the catastrophe itself, for the ing into such a marriage-and she confessed
sake chiefly of the right English, melancholy, as much, it seems, on her deathbed.
autumnal landscape, with  which  it con-   "C The Widow," with her three husbands, is
eludes:-                                      not quite so lively as the wife of Bath with
her five;-but it is a very amusing. as well as
"In that weak moment, when disdain and pride,   a very instructive legend; and exh ibits a rich
And fear and fondness, drew the man aside,    variety of those striking intellectual portraits
In that weak moment-' Wilt thou,' he began,    which mark the hand of our poetical Rem-' Be mine?' and joy o'er all her features ran;                           o'I will!' she softly whisper'd; but the roar  brandt   The serene close of her eventful
Of cannon would not strike his spirit more!  life is highly exemplary. After carefully col.
Ev'n as his lips the lawless contract seal'd  lecting all her dowers and jointuresHe felt that conscience lost her seven-fold shield,
And honour fled; but still he spoke of love;   "The widow'd lady to her cot retir'd:
Arid all! was joy in the consenting dove.!     And there she lives, delighted and admir'd!




KEATS' POEMS.                                     413
Civil to all, compliant and polite,           Here, on this lawn, thy boys and girls shall run,
Dispos'd to think,' whatever is, is right.'  And play their gambols, when their tasks are done
At home awhile-she in the autumn finds        There, from that window, shall their mother view
Tlhea an object for reflecting minds,         The happy tribe, and smile at all they do;
A/lhange for tender spirits: There she reads,   While thou, more gravely, hiding thy delight,
And weeps in comfort, in her graceful weeds!"    Shalt cry, "O! childish!" and enjoy the sight!'"
Vol. ii. p. 213.                             Vol. ii. p. 352.
The concluding tale is but the end of the    We shall be abused by our political and
visit to the Hall, and the settlement of the  fastidious readers for the length of this article.
younger brother near his senior, in the way  But we cannot repent of it.  It will give as
we have already mentioned.  It contains no  much pleasure, we believe, and do as much
great matter; but there is so much good na- good, as many of the articles that are meant
ture and goodness of heart about it, that we  for their gratification; and, if it appear absurd
cannot resist the temptation of gracing our to quote so largely from a popular and accesexit with a bit of it.  After a little raillery, sible work, it should be remembered, that no
the elder brother says-                       work of this magnitude passes into circulation
with half the rapidity of our Journal —and
"' We part no more, dear Richard! Thou wilt that Mr. Crabbe is so unequal a writer, and
need                                  at times so unattractive, as to require, more
Thy brother's help to teach thy boys to read;  than any other of his degree some explanaAnd I should love to hear Matilda's psalm,
And I should love to hear Matilda's psalm,    tion of his system, and some specimens of
To keep my spirit in a morning calm,             owr   o  t s    epecen 
And feel the soft devotion that prepares      his powers, from  those experienced and inThe soul to rise above its earthly cares;    trepid readers whose business it is to pioneer
Then thou and I, an independent two,         for the lazier sort, and to give some account
May have our parties, and defend them too;    of what they are to meet with on their journey.
Thy liberal notions, and my loyal fears,      To be sure, all this is less necessary now than
Will give us subjects for our fuiture years;  it was on Mr. Crabbe's first re-appearance
We will for truth alone contend and read,
And our good Jaques shall o'ersee our creed.'"    nine or ten years ago; and though it may not
Vol. ii. pp. 348, 349. be altogether without its use even at present,
it may be as well to confess, that we have
purchAnd theril addsr leadingerly |im  up trather consulted our own gratification than
our readers' improvement, in what we have
"'Alight, my friend, and come,    now said of him; and hope they will forgive
I do beseech thee, to that proper home!      us.
(2Augu8t, 1820.)
1. Endymion: a Poetic Romance.  ByJOHNKEATS. 8vo. pp. 207. London: 1818.
2. Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes, and other Poems.  By JOHN KEATS, author of
"Endymion."  12mo. pp. 200. London: 1820.*
WE had never happened to see either of  indeed, bear evidence enough of the fact.
these volumes till very lately —andhave been  They are full of extravagance and irreguexceedingly struck with the genius they dis- larity, rash attempts at originality, intermin
play. and the spirit of poetry which breathes able wanderings, and excessive obscurity.
through all their extravagance.  That imita- They manifestly require, therefore. all the in
tion of our old writers and especially of our dulgence that can be claimed for a first atolder dramatists, to which we cannot' help  tempt: —But we think it no less plain that
flattering ourselves that we have somewhat they deserve it: For they are flushed all over
contributed, has brought on, as it were, a  with the rich liohts of facyv; and so coloured!
second spring in our poetry;-and few of its  and bestrewn with the   wers of poetry, that
blossoms are either more profuse 6f sweet- even while perplexed and bewildered in their
nees, or richer in promise, than this-which is labyrinths, it is impossible to resist the intoxinow before us. Mr. Keats, we understand is cation of their sweetness, or to shut our hearts
still a very young man; and his whole wolks, to the enchantments they so lavishly present.
*    The models upon which he has formed himomise was till think th     poet of great power and  self, in the Endymion, the earliest and by
promise was lost to us by the premature death of
Keats, in the twenty-fifth year of his age; and re-much the most considerable of his poems, are
gret that I did not go more largely into the exposi- obviously The Faithful Shepherdess of Fletchtion of his merits, in the slight notice of them, er, and the Sad Shepherd of Ben Jonson;which I now venture to reprint. But though I can. the exquisite metres and inspired diction of
not, with propriety, or without departing from the  which he has copied with great boldness and
principle which must govern this republication, now  fidelity-and, like his great originals, has also
supply this omission, I hope to be forgiven for contrived to impart to the whole piece that
having added a page or two to the citations,-by
which my opinion of those merits was then illus- true rural and poetical air-which breathes
trated, and is again left to the judgment of the reader. only in them, and in Theocritus —which is at




414                                 POETRY.
once homely and majestic, luxurious and rude  our view of the matter) of the true genius of
and sets before us the genuine sights and English poetry, and incapable of estimating
sounds and smells of the country, with all its appropriate and most exquisite beauies.
the magic and grace of Elysium. His sub- With that spirit we have no hesitation irWyject has the disadvantage of bein   th - ing that Mr. Keats is deeply imbued-and of
ical: and in this respect, as well as on ac- those beauties he has presented us with many
count of the raised and rapturous tone it con- striking examples. We are very much insequently assumes, his poem, it may be dined indeed to add, that we do not know
thought, would be better compared to the any book which we would sooner employ as
Comus and the Arcades of Milton, of which, a test to ascertain whether any one had in
also, there are many traces of imitation. The him a native relish for poetry, and a genuine
great distinction, however, between him and sensibility to its intrinsic charm. The greater
these divine authors, is, that imagination in and more distinguished poets of our country
them is subordinate to reason and judgment, have so much else in them, to gratify other
while, with him, it is paramount and supreme tastes and propensities, that they are pretty
-that their ornaments and images are em- sure to captivate and amuse those to whom
ployed. to embellish and recommend just their poetry may be but an hinderance and
sentiments, engaging incidents, and natural obstruction, as well as those to whom it concharacters, while his are poured out without stitutes their chief attraction. The interest
measure or restraint, and with no apparent of the stories they tell-the vivacity of the
design but to unburden the breast of the characters they delineate-the weight and
author, and give vent to the overflowing vein force of the maxims and sentiments in which
of his fancy. The thin and scanty tissue of they abound-theivery pathos, and wit and
his story is merely the light framework on humour they display, which may all and each
which his florid wreaths are suspended; and of them exist apart from their poetry, and inwhile his imaginations go rambling and en- dependent of it, are quite sufficient to account
tangling themselves every where, like wild for their popularity, without referring much
honeysuckles, all idea of sober reason, and to that still higher gift, by which they subdue
plan, and consistency, is utterly forgotten, and to their enchantments those whose souls are
"strangled in their waste fertility."  A great truly attuned to the finer impulses of poetry.
part of the work, indeed, is written in the It is only, therefore, where those other recomstrangest and most fantastical manner that mendations are wanting, or exist in a weaker
can be imagined. It seems as if the author degree, that the true force of the attraction,
had ventured every thing that occurred to exercised by the pure poetry with which they
him  in the shape of a glittering image or are so often combined, can be fairly apprestriking expression-taken the rst word that ciated: —where,  without much incident or
presented itself to make up a rhyihe, and then many characters, and with little wit, wisdom,
made that word the germ of a new cluster of or arrangement. a number of bright pictures
images-a hint for a new excursion of the are presented to the imagination, and a fine
fancy-and so wandered on, equally forgetful feeling expressed of those mysterious relations
whence he came and heedless whither he by which v4sible externarthifigs are assimiwas going, till he had covered his pages with lated with inward thoughts and emotions. and
an interminable arabesque of connected and become the images and exponents of all pasincongruous figures, that multiplied as they sions and affections. To an unpoetical reader
extended, and were only harmonised by the such passages will generally appear mere
brightness of their tints, and the graces of raving and absurdity-and to this censure a
their forms. In this rash and headlong career yery great part of the volumes before us will
he has of course many lapses and failures. certainly be exposed, with this class of read(There is no work, accordingly, from which a ers. Een in the judgment of a fitter audience,
malicious critic could cull more matter for however, it must, we fear, be admitted, that,
ridicule, or select more obscure unnatural, or, besides herit and eavagance  of his fancy
absuid passages. But we do not take that to the scfpeandsubstar  of Mr. Keats' poetry
be our office;-and must beg leave, on the is rathlr too dreamy anl abstracted to excite
contrary, to say, that any one who, on this the strongest interest, or to sustain the atten
account, would represent the whole poem as tion through a work of any great compass or
despicable, must either have no notion of extent. He deals too much with shadowy
poetry, or no regard to truth.           and incomprehensible beings, and is too conIt is, in truth, at least as full of genius as stantly rapt into an extramundane Elysium,
of absurdity; and he who does not find a to command a lasting interest with ordinary
great deal in it to admire and to give delight, mortals-and must employ the agency of
cannot in his heart see much beauty in the more varied and coarser emotions, if he wishes
two exquisite dramas to which we have al- to take rank with the enduring poets of thils
ready alluded; or find any great pleasure in or of former generations. There is something
some of the finest creations of Milton and very curious, too, we think, in the way in
Shakespeare. There are very many such per- which lie, and Mr. Barry Cornwall also, have
sons, we verily believe, even among the read- dealt with the Pagan mythology of which
ing and judicious part of the community- they have made so much use in their poetry.
correct scholars, we have no doubt, many of Instead of presenting its imaginary persons
them, and, it may be, very classical composers under the trite and vulgar traits that belong
in prose and in verse-but utterly ignorant, on to them in the ordinary systems, little more




l -
KEATS' POEMS.
is borrowed from these than the general con- And see that oftentimes the reins would slip
ception of their condition and relations; and  Through his forgotten hands!"-pp. 11, 12.
an original character and distinct individuality    There is then a choral hymn addressed to
is then bestowed upon them, which has all the sylvan deity, which appears to us to be
the merit of invention, and all the grace and  full of beauty; and reminds us, in many
attraction of the fictions on which it is en- places, of the finest strains of Sicilian-or o
grafted. The ancients, though they probably  English poetry.  A part of it is as follows:did not stand in anykgreat awe of their dei-          thou, whose mighty palace roof doth hang
ties, have yet abstained very much from any From jagged trunks; and overshadoweth
minute or dramatic representation of their Eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death
feelings and affections. In Hesiod and Homer, Of unseen flowers, in heavy peacefulness!
they are broadly delineated by some of their Who lov'st to see the hamadryads dress
actions and adventures, and introduced to us Their ruffled locks, where meeting hazels darken;
merely as the agents inthose particulartrans- And through whole solemn hours dost sit, and
merely as     the agent s in   those particular trans- The dreary melody of bedded reeds-   [hearken
actions; while in the Hymns, from  those In desolate places, where dank moisture breeds
ascribed to Orpheus and Homer, down to  The pipy hemlock to strange overgrowth.those of Callimachus, we have little but pomp- "'   thou, for whose soul-soothing quiet, turtle
ous epithets and invocations, with a flattering  Passion their voices cooingly'mong myrtles,
commemoration of their most famous exploits What time thou wanderest at eventide
-and are never allowed to enter into their Through sunny meadows, that outskirt the side
bosoms, or follow out the train' of their feel- Of thine enmossed realms: 0 thou, to whom
ings, with the presumption of our human  Broad leaved fig trees even now foredoom
sympathy.   xcept the love-song of the Cy-Their ripen'd fruitage; yellow girted bees
sympathy.  Except Nymphe love-song of   the C  Their golden honeycombs; our village leas
clops to his Sea Nymph in Theocritus-the  Their fairest blossom'd beans and poppied corn
Lamentation of Venus for Adonis in Moschus The chuckling linnet its five young unborn,
-- and the more recent Legend of Apuleius, To sing for thee; low creeping strawberries
we scarcely recollect a passage in all the  Their summer coolness; pent up butterflies
writings of antiquity in which the passions of Their freckled wings; yea, the fresh budding year
an immortal are fairly cdisclosed to the scrutiny All its completions! be quickly near,
an immortal are fairly disclosed to the scrutiny  By every wind that nods the mountain pine,
and observation of men.  The autthor before  0 forester divine!
us, however, and some of his contemporaries,
have dealt differently with the subject;-and, For      towillingservice  whethery fawn and satyr fies
sheltering the violence of the fiction under The squatted hare while in half sleeping fit;
the ancient traditionary fable, have in reality1 Or upward ragged precipices flit
created and imagined an entire new set ofa To save poor lambkins from the eagle's maw;
characters; and brought closely and minutely  Or by mysterious enticement draw
before us the loves and sorrows and perplexi- Bewilder'd shepherds to their path again;
ties of beings, with,,whose names and super- Or to tread breathless round the frothy main,
ties of beings, withqwhose names and super- And gather up all fancifullest shells
natural attributes We had long been familiar, For thee to tumble into Naiad's cells,
without any sense or feeling of their personal And, being hidden, laugh at their out-peeping 
"character. We have more than doubts of the  Or to delight thee with fantastic leaping,
f/tness of such personages to maintain a per- The while they pelt each other on the crown
tmane ft sinterest with the modern pul'i''iZ' With silv'ry oak apples, and fir cones brownmanent interest with the modern pu            By all the echoes that about thee ring!
but the way in which they are here manage  Hear us, 0 satyr King!
certainly gives them  the best chance that
remains for them' O Hearkener to the loud clapping shears,
now remains for them; and, at all events, it While ever and anon to his shorn peers
While ever and anon to his shorn peers
cannot be denied that the effect is striking  A ram goes bleating: Winder of the horn,
and graceful.  But we must now proceed to  When snouted wild-boars routing tender corn
our extracts.                                 Anger our huntsmen! Breather round our farms,
- The first of the volumes before us is occu- To keep off mildews, and all weather harms:
pied with the loves of Endynmion and Diana-  Strange ministrant of undescribed sounds,
which it would not be very easy, and which  Th at come a swooning over hollow grounds,
we do not at all Utend to analyse in detail. Anpp 114-1 17.
In the beginning of"ke poem, however, the
In the beginning o    e poem, however, the    The enamoured youth sinks into insensiShepherd Prince is represented as having had    The enamoured youth sinks into isenei
Shepherd Prinie ois repir ontd as havisng had bility in the midst of the solemnity, and is
strange risions and delirious in'terviews with  bod revived by the care of his
an unknown and celestial beauty: Soon after bore apart and  revived by  the   are of his
which, he is called on to preside at a festival sister; and, opening his heavy eyes in her
in honour of Pan; and his appearance in the arms, saysprocession is thus described:-                 "'I feel this thine endearing love
All through my bosom! Thou art as a dove
-"His youth was fully blown,           Trembling its closed eyes and sleeked wings
Showing like Ganymede to manhood grown; *    -About me; and the pearliest dew not brings
And, for those simple times, his garments were    Such morning incense from the fields of May
A chieftain king's: Beneath his breast, half bare,  As do those brighter drops that twinkling stray
Was hung a silver bugle; and between           From those kind eyes. Then think not thou
His nervy knees there lay a boar-spear keen.   That, any longer, I will pass my days
A smile was on his countenance: He seem'd,     Alone and sad. No! I will once more raise
To common lookers on, like one who dream'd     My voice upon the mountain heights; once more
Of idleness in groves Elysian:                Make my horn parley from their foreheads hoar!
But there were some who feelingly could scan  Again my trooping hounds their tongues shall loll
A lurking trouble in his nether lip,          Around the breathed boar: again I'll poll




416                 -                    POETRY.
The fair-grown yew tree, for a chosen bow:     Disparts a dewl-ipp'd rose. Above his head,
And, when the pleasant sun is getting low,     Four lily stalks did their white honours wed
Again I'll linger in a sloping mead            To make a coronal; and round him grew
To hear the speckled thrushes, and see feed    All tendrils green, of every bloom and hue,
Our idle sheep. So be thou cheered, sweet,     Together intertwin'd and trammel'd fresh:
And, if thy lute is here, softly intreat       The vine of glossy sprout* the ivy mesh,
My soul to keep in its resolved course.'       Shading its Ethiop bes hand woodbine,
Of velvet leaves andiuggl-dblooms divine.
" Hereat Peona, in their silver source
Shut her pure sorrow drops, with glad exclaim;                     " Hard by,
And took a lute, from which there pulsing came    Stood serene Cupids watching silently.
A lively prelude, fashioning the way           One kneeling to-olyre, touch'd the strings,
In which her voice should wander.'Twas a lay    Muffling to death the pathos with his wings!
More subtle cadenced, more forest wild         And, ever and anon, uprose to look
Than Dryope's lone lulling of her child;       At the youth's slumber; while another took
And nothing since has floated in the air       A willow.bough, distilling odorous dew,
So mournful strange." —pp. 25-27.              And shook it on his hair; another flew
In through the woven roof, and fluttering-wise
He then tells her all the story of his love  Rain violets upon his sleeping eyes." —pp. 72, 73.
and madness; and gives this airy sketch of
the first vision he had, or fancied he had, of     Here is anothe  and more classical sketch
his descending Goddess. After some rapturous of Cybele-with a picture of lions that mighi
intimations of the glories of her gold-burnished  excite the envy of Rubens, or Edwin Landseer!
hair, he says" Forth from a rugged arch, in the dusk below,
She had,         Came mother Cybele! alone-alone!ee, l     brt enougto mae me mad!  In sombre chariot: dark foldings thrown
And they were simply gordian'd up and braided,   About her majesty, and front death-pale
Leaving, in naked comeliness, unshaded,        With turrets crown'd. Four maned lions hale
Her pearl round ears, white neck, and orbed brow; The sluggish wheels; solemn their toothed maws,
The which were blended in, I know not how,     Their surly eyes browhidden, heavy paws
W ith such a paradise of lips and eyes,owsily, and nervy tals
Blush-tinted cheeks, half smiles, and faintest sighs, Cowering their tawny brnshes. Silent sails
That when I think thereon, my spirit clings    This shadowy queen athwart, and faints away
And melts into the vision!"                   In another gloomy arch!" —p. 83.
" And then her hovering feet!
More bluely vein'd, more soft, more whitely sweet   The following picture of the fairy waterThan those of sea-born Venus, when she rose    works, which he unconsciouslysets playing in
From out her cradle shell! The wind outblows    these enchanted caverns, is, it must be conHer scarf into a fluttering pavilion!-        fessed,." high fantastical;" but we venture to'Tis blue; and overspangled with a million     extract it, for the sake of the singular brilliancy
Of little eyes; as though thou wert to shed              of the execution
Over the darkest, lushest blue bell bed,
Handfuls of daisies."-                                          -' So on he hies
Through caves and palaces of mottled ore,
Overpowered by this "celestial colloquy            -
Gold dome, and crystal wall, and turquoise floor,
e-blime." he sinks at last into slumber-and  Black polish'd porticos of awful shade,
on wakening finds the scene disenchanted; Till, at the last, a diamond ballustrade
and the dull shades of evening deepening over Leads sparkling just above the silvery heads'his solitude:-                                 Of a thousand fountains; so that he could dash
The waters with his spear! But at that splash,
"Then up I started.-Ah! my sighs, my tears!   Done heedlessly, those spouting columns rose
My clenched hands! For lo! the poppies hung    Sudden a poplar's height, and'gan to enclose
Dew dabbled on their stalks; the ouzel sung    His diamond path with fretwork, streaming round,
A heavy ditty; and the sullen day              Alive, and dazzling cool, and with a sound
Had chidden herald Hesperus away,              Haply, like dolphin tumults, when sweet shells
With leaden looks. The solitary breeze         Welcome the car of Thetis! Long he dwells
Bluster'd and slept; and its wild self did teaze  On this delight; for every minute's space,
With wayward melancholy. And I thought,        The streams with changing magic interlace;
Mark me, Peona! that sometimes it brought,     Sometimes like delicatest lattices,
Faint Fare-thee-wells-and sigh-shrilled Adieus!"  Cover'd with crystal vines: then weeping trees
Moving about, as in a gentle wind;
Soon after this he is led away by butterflies Which, in a wink, to wat'ry gauze refin'd
to the haunts of Naiads; and by them  sent Pour into shapes of curtain'd canopies,
down into enchanted caverns, where he sees Spangled, and rich with liquid broideries
Venus and Adonis, and great flights of Cupids; Of Flowers, Peacocks, Swans, and Naiads fair!
and wanders over diamond terraces among  Swifter than lightning went these wonders rare;
And then the water into stubborn streams
beautiful fountains and temples and statues, Collecting, mimick'd the wrought oaken beams,
and all sorts of fine and strange things.  All Pillars, and frieze, and high fantastic roof
this is very fantastical: But there are splendid  Of those dark places, in times far aloof
pieces of description, and a sort of wild rich- Cathedrals named!"
ness in the whole. We cull a few little mor-   There are strange melodies too around him;
sels.  This is the picture of the sleeping  and their effect on the fancy is thus poetically
Adonis:-                                      described:"In midst of all, there lay a sleeping youth                  "Oh! when the airy stress
Of fondest beauty. Sideway his face repos'd    Of Music's kiss impregnates the free winds,
On one white arm, and tenderly unclos'd,       And with a sympathetic touch unbinds
By tenderest pressure, a faint damask mouth    Eolian magic from their lucid wombs,
To slumbery pout; just as the morning south    Then old songs waken from forgotten tombs t




KEATS' POEMS.                                      417
9Id ditties sigh above their father's grave!  imitations; but we have no longer time for
Ghosts of melodious prophesyings rave         such a task.  Mr. Keats has followed his
Round every spot where trod Apollo's feet!    orginal more closely and has given a deep
Bronze clarions awake, and faintly bruit,
Where long ago, a Giant battle was!           pathos to several of his stanzas. The widowAnd from the turf a lullaby doth pass,        ed bride's discovery of the murdered body is
In every place where infant Orpheus slept!"  very strikingly given.
In the midst of all these enchantments he  " Soon she turn'd up a soiled glove, whereon
has, we do not very well know how, another        Her silk had play'd in purple phantasies!
ravishing interview  with his unknown god-   She kiss'd it with a lip more chill than stone,
dess d wn se a n m s aw ay from      And put it in her bosom, where it dries.
dess; and when she again melts away from    Then'gan she work again; nor stay'd her cate,
him, he finds himself in a vast grotto, where    But to throw back at times her veiling hair.
he overhears the courtship of Alpheus and  " That old nurse stood beside her, wondering,
Arethusa; and as they elope together, dis-        Until her heart felt pity to the core,
covers that the grotto has disappeared, and   At sight of such a dismal labouring;
that he is at the bottom of the sea, under the    And so she kneeled, with her locks all hoar,
transparent arches of its naked waters! The   And put her lean hands to the horrid thing:
following  is abundantly  extravagant; but        Three hours they labour'd at this trivial sore;
comes of no ignoble lineage-nor shames its   At last they felt the kernel of the grave, &c.
high descent:-                                "In anxious secrecy they took it home,
And then-the prize was all for Isabel!
" Fa r h ad he roam'd,    She calm'd its wild hair with a golden comb;
With nothing  save the hollow vast, that foam'd   And all around each eye's sepulchral cell
A bove, around, and at his feet; save things     Pointed each fringed lash: The smeared loam
More dead than Morpheus' imaginings!             With tears, as chilly as a dripping well, [kep~
Old rusted anchors, helmets, breast-plates large  She drench'd away:-and still she comb'd, ant
Of gone sea-warriors; brazen beaks and targe;   Sighing all day-and still she kiss'd, and wept
Rudders that for a thousand years had lost
The sway of human hand; gold vase emboss'd    "Then in a silken scarf-sweet with the dews
With long-forgotten story, and wherein            Of precious flowers pluck'd in Araby,
No reveller had ever dipp'd a chin              And divine liquids come with odorous ooze
But those of Saturn's vintage; mould'ring scrolls,  Through the cold serpent-pipe refreshfully,Writ in the tongue of heaven, by those souls    She wrapp'd it up; and for its tomb did choose
Who first were on the earth; and sculptures rude  A garden pot, wherein she laid it by,
In pond'rous stone, developing the mood         And cover'd it with mould; and o'er it set
Of ancient Nox;-then skeletons of man,          Sweet Basil, which her tears kept ever wet.
Of beast, behemoth, and leviathan,            "And she forgot the stars, the moon, the sun!
And elephant, and eagle-and huge jaw              And she forgot the blue above the trees;
Of nameless monster."-  p. 111..                And she forgot the dells where waters run,
There he finds ancient Glaucus enchanted        And she forgot the chilly autumn breeze!
by Circe-hears his wild story-and goes with   She adno knowl sdgehe saw nothe dayut   n pe
him to the deliverance and restoration of thou-   Hung over her sweet Basil evermore,
sands of drowned lovers, whose bodies were   And moisten'd it with tears, unto the core!"
piled and stowed away in a large submarine                                     pp. 72-75.
palace. When this feat is happily performed,   T
he finds himself again on dry ground, with           following lines from an ode to a Nightwoods and waters around him; and can- ingale are equally distinguished for harmony
not help falling desperately in love with a and high poetic feellerg:beautiful damsel whom he finds there, pining  " O for a beaker full of the warm South!
for some such consolation; and who tells a        Full of the tree, the blushful Hippocrene,
long story of having come from  India in the         With beaded bubbles winking at tht brim,
train of Bacchus, and having strayed away               And pirple-stained mouth!
That I might drink, and leave tle world unseen,
from him into that forest!-So they vow eter- That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
from him into that forest-So they vow eter And with thee fade away into the foreat dim.
nal fidelity; and are wafted up to heaven on    F.de far away! dissolve —and quite! feorget
flying horses; on which they sleep and dream       What Thou among the leaves hast never
among the stars; —and then the lady melts                 knownaway, and he is again alone upon the earth;   The weariness, the fever, and the fret,  [groan;.
but soon rejoins his Indian love, and agrees       Here,-where men sit and hear each other
to give up his goddess, and live only for her:'here palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and
But she refuses, and says she is resolved to              dies!
devote herself to the service of Diana: But,         Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
when she goes to accomplish that dedication,            And leaden-eyed despairs.
she turns out to be the goddess herself in a    The voice I hear, this passing night was heard
new shape! and finally exalts her lover with     In ancient days by emperor and clown 
blessed'immortality!                  Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
her to a blessed immortality!                     Through the sad heart of Ruth, when sickfot
We have left ourselves room to say but lit-             home,
tie of the second volume; which is of a more         She stood in tears amid the alien corn!
miscellaneous character.  Lamia is a Greek               The same that oft-times hath
antique story, in the measure and taste of En-   Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam,.
dymion. Isabella is a paraphrase of the same       Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn."
tale of Boccacio which Mr. Cornwall has also. 108-ll.
imitated, under the title of " A Sicilian Story."    We know nothing at once so truly freshkl
It would be worth while to compare the two genuine, and  English,-and, at the $ame
2'7




418                                       POETRY.
time, so full of poetical feeling, and Greek  chamber, and of all that passes in that sweet
elegance and simplicity, as this address to and angel-guarded sanctuary: every part of
Autumn:                                        which is touched with colours at once rich
and delicate-and the whole chastened and
"Season of mists and mellow fruitfulnessClose bosom-friend of the maturing Sun!       harmonised, in the midst of its gorgeous disConspiring with him now, to load and bless [run! tinctness, by a pervading grace and purity,
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves that indicate not less clearly the exaltation
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage trees,  than the refinement of the author's fancy.
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;  We cannot resist adding a good part of this
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells    description.
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,    " Out went the taper as she hurried in!
Until they think warm days will never cease;   Its little smoke in pallid moonshine died:
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells. The door she closed! She panted, all akin
" Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store  To spirits of the air, and visions wide 
Sometimes, whoever seeks abroad, may find      No utter'd syllable-or woe betide!
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,      But to her heart, her heart was voluble;
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;    Painng with eloquence her balmy side!
Or on a half reap'd furrow sound asleep!      " A casement high and treple-arch'd there was,
Drows'd with the fumes of poppies; while thy hook  All garlanded with carven imageries
Spares the next swarth, and all its twined flowers! Of fruits and flowers, and bunches of knot-grassAnd sometimes like a gleaner, thou dost keep   And diamonded with panes of quaint device
Steady thy laden head, across a brook;         Innumerable, of stains and splendid dyes,
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,        As are the tiger moth's deep-damask'd wings 
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours!
" Full on this casement shown the wintery moon,
"Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are  And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,
thev?                                 As down she knelt for Heaven's grace and boon!
Think not of them! Thou hast thy music too;    Rose bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,  And on her silver cross, soft amethyst;
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue!   And on her hair, a glory like a saint!
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn  She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest
Among the river sallows; borne aloft            Save wings, for heaven!-Porphyro grew faint,
Or sinking, as the light wind lives or dies!  She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortaltaint!
And full grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft,    "Anon his heart revives! Her vespers done,
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,     Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees;'And gath'ring swallows twitter in the skies!"  Unclasps her warmed jewels, one by one;
Loosens her fragrant bodice; by degrees
One of the sweetest of the smaller poems is Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees!
that entitled "The Eve of St. Agnes:" though  Half hidden, like a Mermaid in sea weed,
we.can now afford but a scanty extract. The  Pensive a while she dreams awake, and sees
is, that if a   aiden goes to bed  In fancy fair, St. Agnes on her bed!
superstition is, that if a maiden goes to bed  But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled!
on that night without supper, and never looks
up after saying her prayers till she falls "Soon, trembling, in her soft and chilly nest,
asleep, she will see her destined  husband by  In sort of wakeful dream, perplex'd she lay;
asleep, she will see her destined husband by  Until the poppied warmth of Sleep oppress'd
her bed-side the moment she opens her eyes. Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away!
The fair Madeline, who was in love with the  Haven'd alike from sunshine and from rain,
gentle Porphyro, but thwarted by an imperi- As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again!
ous guardian, resolves to try this spell: —and  "Stolen to this paradise, and so entranc'd,
Porphyro, who has a suspicion of her purpose, Porphyro gaz'd upon her empty dress,
naturally determines to do vhat he can to  And listen'd to her breathing; if it chanc'd
help it to a happy issue; and accordingly  To sink into a slumb'rous tenderness?
prevails on her ancient nurse to admit hi~m ~Which when he heard, that minute did he bless,
prevai.bow,er wchere he woatches rev- And breath'd himself; —then from the closet crept,
to her virgin bower,;   ere he watc es rev- Noiseless as Fear in a wide wilderness,
erently, till she sinks in slumber; —and then, And over the hush'd carpet silent stept.
arranging a most eleant  dessert by her " Then, by the bed-side, where the sinking moon
couch, and gently rousing her with a tender Made a dim silver twilight, soft he set
and favourite air, finally reveals himself, and  A table, and, half angumsh'd, threw thereon
persuades her to steal from the castle under A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet, &c.
his protection.  The opening stanza is a fair " And still she slept-an azure-lidded sleep!
specimen of the sweetness and force of the In blanched linen, smooth, and lavender'd;
composition.                                   While he, from forth the closet, brought a heap
cooSt. Agnes Evei   Ah, bitter cold it was!     Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd;
With jellies smoother than the creamy curd,
The owl, for all his feathers, was acold;      And lucent syrups, tinct with cinnamon;
The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd
And silent was the flock in woolly fold!       From Fez; and spiced dainties every one,
Numb were the bedesman's fingers, while he told From silken Samarcand, to cedar'd-Lebanor.
His rosary; and while his frosted breath,
Like pious incense from a censer old,          " Those delicates he heap'd.with glowing hand,
Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death,   On golden dishes, and in baskets bright
Past the sweet virgin's picture, while his prayers he Of wreathed silver; sumptuous they stand
saith."                                In the retired quiet of the night,
Filling the chilly room with perfume light.
But the glory and charm of the poem is in'And now, my love! my Seraph fair! awake!
taue description of tfie fair maiden's antique  Ope thy sweet eyes! for dear St. Agnes' sake!"




ROGERS' HUMAN LIFE.                                   41
It is difficult to break off in such a course    Pearled with the self-same shower..f citation:  But we must stop here; and           Thou shalt see the field-mouse peep
shall close our extracts with the following        Meagre from its celled sleep;
lively lines:-                              And the snake, all winter thin,
lively lines: —                                  Cast on sunny bank its skin;' O sweet Fancy! let her loose!             Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see
Summer's joys are spoilt by use,             Hatching in the hawthorn tree,
And the enjoying of the Spring               When the hen-bird's wing doth rest
Fades as does its blossoming;                Quiet on her mossy nest;
Autumn's red-lipp'd fruitage too,           T'hen the hurry and alarm
Blushing through the mist and dew,           When the bee-hive casts its swarm;
Cloys with tasting: What do then f           Acorns ripe down pattering,
Sit thee by the ingle, when                  While the autumn breezes sing."
The sear faggot blazes bright,                                       pp. 122-125.
Spirit of a winter's night;
When the soundless earth is muffled,     There is a fragment of a projected Epic
And the caked snow is shuffled         entitled "Hyperion," on the expulsion o?
From the plough-boy's heavy shoor,     Saturn and the Titanian deities by Jupiter
When the Night doth meet the Noon,     and his younger adherents, of which we canIn a dark conspiracy                   not advise the completion: For, though there
To banish Even from her sky.
Thou shalt hear              are passages of some force and grandeur, it is
Distant harvest carols clear;          sufficiently obvious. from the specimen before
Rustle of the reaped corn;             us, that the sub'ect is too far removed from
Sweet birds antheming the morn;        all the sources    uman tnterest         -
And, in the same moment-hark!          cessfu  trea        anymodern thor. Mr.'Tis the early April lark,
Or the rooks, with busy caw,            eats  as unue lona           ve     autiful
Foraging for sticks and straw.         imagination, a perfect ear for harmony, and a
Thou shalt, at one glance, behold      great familiarity with the finest diction of
The daisy and the marigold;            English poetry; but he must learn not to misWhite-plum'd lilies, and the first     use or misapply these advantages; and neither
Shaedge-grown primrose that ath, burt; y  waste the good gifts of nature and study on
Sapphire queen of the mid-May;         i tractable themes, nor to luxuriate too reckAnd every leaf, and every flower       lessly on such as are more suitable.
( tl arrbl, 181l.)
Human Life: a Poem. By SAMUEL ROGERS. 4to. pp. 94. London: 1819.
THESE are very sweet verses. They do with strange adventures, embodied in extranot, indeed, stir the spirit like the strong lines ordinary characters, or agitated with turbuof Byron, nor make our hearts dance within lent passions-not the life of warlike paladins,
us, like the inspiring strains of Scott; but or desperate lovers, or sublime ruffians-or
they come over us with a bewitching soft- piping shepherds or sentimental savages, or
ness that, in certain moods, is still more de- bloody bigots or preaching pedlars-or conlightful-and soothe the troubled spirits with querors, poets, or any other species of mada refreshing sense of truth, purity, and ele- men-but the ordinary, practical, and amiable
gance.  They are pensive rather than pas- life of social, intelligent, and affectionate men
sionate; and more full of wisdom  and ten- in the upper ranks of society-such, in short,
derness than of high flights of fancy, or over- as multitudes may be seen living every day
whelming bursts of emotion-while they are in this country-for the picture is entirely
moulded into grace at least as much by the English -and though not perhaps in the
effect of the Moral beauties they disclose, as choice of every one, yet open to the judg
by the taste and judgment with which they ment, and familiar to the sympathies, of all.
are constructed.                             It contains, of course, no story, and no indiThe theme is HUMAN LIFE!-not only "the vidual characters. It is properly and pecusubject of all verse "-but the great centre liarly contemplative —and consists in a series
and source of all interest in the works of of reflections on our mysterious nature and
human beings-to which both verse and prose condition upon earth, and on the marvellous,
invariably bring us back, when they succeed though unnoticed changes which the or:linary
in rivetting our attention, or rousing our emo- course of our existence is continually bringing
tions-and which turns everything into poetry about in our being. Its marking peculiarity
to which its sensibilities can be ascribed, or in this respect is, that it is free from the least
by which its vicissitudes can be suggested! alloy of acrimony or harsh judgment, and
Yet it is not by any means to that which, in deals not at all indeed in any species of satiriordinary language, is termed the poetry or cal or sarcastic remark.  The poet looks here
the romance of human life, that the present on man, and teaches us to look on him, not
work is directed. The life which it endeav- merely with love, but with reverence; and,
surs to set before us, is not life diversified mingling a sort of considerate pity for the




420                                  POETRY.
shortness of his busy little career, and the or not, that as readers of all ages, if they ale
disappointments and weaknesses by which it any way worth pleasing, have little glimpses
is beset, with a genuine admiration of the and occasional visitations of those truths which
great capacities he unfolds, and the high des- longer experience only renders more familiar,
tiny to which he seems to be reserved, works so no works ever sink so deep into amiable
out a very beautiful and engaging picture, minds, or recur so often to their rememboth of the affections by which Life is en- brance, as those which embody simple. and
deared, the trials to which it is exposed, and solemn, and reconciling truths, in emphatic
the pure and peaceful enjoyments with which and elegant language-and anticipate, as it
it may often be filled.                   were, and bring out with effect, those saluThis, after all, we believe, is the tone of tary lessons which it seems to be the great
true wisdom  and true virtue —and that to end of our life to inculcate. The pictures
which all good natures draw nearer, as they of violent passion and terrible emotion -
approach the close of life, and come to act the breathing characters, the splendid imless, and to know and to meditate more, on agery and bewitching fancy of Shakespeare
the varying and crowded scene of human ex- himself, are less frequently recalled, than
istence.-When the inordinate hopes of early those great moral aphorisms in which he has
youth, which provoke their own disappoint- so often
ment, have been sobered down by longer experience and more extended views-when the       Told us the fashion of our b osom n estate
keen contentions, and eager rivalries, which
employed our riper age, have expired or been and, in spite of all that may be said by grave
abandoned —when we have seen, year after persons, of the frivolousness of poetry, and of
year, the objects of our fiercest hostility, and of its admirers, we are persuaded that the most
our fondest affections, lie down together in the memorable, and the most generally admired
hallowed peace of the grave-when ordinary of all its productions, are those which are
pleasures and amusements begin to be insipid, chiefly recommended by their deep practical
and the gay derision which seasoned them to wisdom; and their coincidence with those
appear flat and importunate —when we reflect salutary imitations with which nature herself
how often we have mourned and been com- seems to furnish us from the passing scenes
forted-what opposite opinions we have suc- of our existence.
cessively maintained and abandoned-to what   The literary character of the work is akin
inconsistent habits we have gradually been to its moral character; and the diction is as
formed-and how frequently the objects of soft, elegant, and simple, as the sentiments
our pride have proved the sources of our are generous and true. The whole piece,
shame! we are naturally led to recur to the indeed, is throughout in admirable keeping;
careless davs of our childhood, and from that and its beauties, though of a delicate, rather
distant starting place, to retrace the whole than an obtrusive character, set off each other
of our career, and that of our contemporaries, to an attentive observers by the skill with
with feelings of far greater humility and indul- which they are harmonised, and the sweetgence than those by which it had been actu- ness with which they slide into each other.
ally accompanied:-to think all vain but af- The outline, perhaps, is often rather timidly
fection and honour-the simplest and cheap- drawn, and there is an occasional want of
est pleasures the truest and most precious-  force and brilliancy in the colouring; which
and generosity of sentiment the only mental we are rather inclined to ascribe to the refined
superiority which ought either to be wished and somewhat fastidious taste of the artist,
for or admired.                           than to any defect of skill or of power. We
We are aware that we have said "some- have none of the broad and blazing tints of
thing too much of this;t and that our readers Scott-nor the startling contrasts of Byronwould probably have been more edified, as nor the anxious and endlessly repeated touch
well as more delighted,. by Mr..Rogers' text, of Southey — but something which comes
than with our preachment upon it. But we much nearer to the soft and tender manner
were anxious to convey to them our sense of of Campbell; with still more reserve and cauthe spirit in which this poem is written; —and tion, perhaps, and more frequent sacrifices
conceive, indeed, that what we have now  of strong and popular effect, to an abhorrence
said falls more strictly within the line of our of glaring beauties, and a disdain of vulgar
critical duty, than our general remarks can resources.
always be said to do; —because the true   The work opens with a sort of epitome of
character and poetical effect of the work its subject-and presents us with a brief abseems, in this instance, to depend much more stract of man's (or at least Gentleman's) life,
on its moral expression, than on any of its as marked by the four great eras of-his birth
merely literary qualities.                -his coming of age-his marriage-and his
The author, perhaps, may not think it any death. This comprehensive picture with its
compliment to be thus told, that his verses four compartments, is comprised in iess than
are likely to be greater favourites with the thirty lines. —We give the two latter scenes
old than with the young;-and yet it is no only.
small compliment, we think, to say. that they   "And soon again shall music swell the breeze;
are likely to be more favourites with his Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the trees
readers every year they live:-And it is at Vestures of Nuptial white; and hymns be sung,
aU events true, whether it be a compliment And violets scatter'd round; and old and yunrg,




ROGERS' HUMAN  LIFE.                                     421
In every cottage-porch with garlands green,    Known by her laugh that will not be suppress'd.
Stand still to gaze, and, gazing, bless the scene!   Then before All they stand! The holy vow
While, her clark eyes declining, by his side   And ring of gold, no fond illusions now,
Moves in her virgin-veil the gentle Bride.     Bind her as his! Across the threshold led,
" And once, alas! nor in a distant hour,    And every tear kiss'd off as soon as shed,
Another voice shall come from yonder tower!   His house she enters; there to be a light
When in dim chambers long black weeds are seen, Shining within, when all without is night!
And weepings heard, where only joy had been;    A gtuardiani-angel o'er his life presiding,
When by his children borne, and from his door  Doubling his pleasures, and his cares dividing!
Slowly departing to return no more,            How oft her eyes read his; her gentle mind,
He rests in holy earth, with them that went before! To all his wishes, all his thoughts inclin'd;
"And such is Human Life! So gliding on,     Still subject-even on the watch to borrow
It glimmers like a meteor, and is gone!"-pp. 8-10. Mirth of his mirth, and sorrow of his sorrow."
After some general and very striking re-pp. 32, 33.
flections upon the perpetual but unperceived    Beautiful as this is, we think it much infegradations by which this mysterious being is rior to what follows; when Parental affection
carried through all the stages of its fleeting comes to complete the picture of Connubial
existence, the picture is resumed and expand- bliss.
ed with more touching and discriminating  " And laughing eyes and laughing voices fill
details.  Infancy, for example, is thus finely  Their halls with gladness. She, when all are still,
delineated:-                                   Comes and unidraws the curtain as they lie
In sleep, how beautiful! He, when the sky
" The hour arrives, the moment wish'd and  Gleams, and the wood sends up its harmony,
fear'd;                                 When, gathering round his bed, they climb to share
The child is born, by many a pang endear'd.    His kisses, and with gentle violence there
And now the mother's ear has caught his cry;   Break in upon a dream not half so fair,
Oh grant the cherub to her asking eye!        Up to the hill top leads their little feet;
He comes!-she clasps him. To her bosom press'd, Or by the forest-lodge; perchance to meet
He drinks the balm of life, and drops to rest.  The stag-herd on its march, perchance to hear
" Her by her smile how soon the stranger knows; The otter rustling in the sedgy mere;
How soon, by his, the glad discovery shows!   Or to the echo near the Abbot's tree,
As to her lips she lifts the lovely boy,       That gave him back his words of pleasantryWhat answering looks of sympathy and joy!      When the House stood, no merrier man than be 
He walks, he speaks. In many a broken word     And, as they wander with a keen delight,
His wants, his wishes, and his griefs are heard.    If but a leveret catch their quicker sight
And ever, ever to her lap he flies,            Down a green alley, or a squirrel then
When rosy Sleep comes on with sweet surprise.   Climb the gnarled oak, and look and climb again,
Lock'd in her arms, his arms across her flung  If but a moth flit by, an acorn fall,
(That name most dear for ever on his tongue),  He turns their thoughts to Him who made them all."
As with soft accents round her neck he clings,                                  pp. 34-36.
And, cheek to cheek, her lulling song she sings,  "But Man is born to suffer.  On the door
How blest to feel the beatings of his heart,   Sickness has set her mark; and now no more
Breathe his sweet breath, and kiss for kiss impart; Laughter within we hear, or wood-notes wild
Watch o'er his slumbers like the brooding dove,    As of a mother singing to her child.
And, if she can, exhaust a mother's love!"    All now in anguish from that room retire,
pp. 19, 20.   Where a young cheek glows with consuming fre,
This is pursued in the same strain of ten- And innocence breathes contagion!-all but one,
derness and beauty through all its most in- But she who gave it birth!-From her alone
teretig beari -and then we pass to the The medicine-cup is taken. Through the night,
teresting bearingPs — and then we pass to the  And through the day, that with its dreary light
bolder kindlings and loftier aspirations of  Comes unregarded, she sits silent by,
Youth.                                         Watching the changes with her anxious eye:
While they without, listening below, above,
" Then is the Age of Admiration —then        (Who but in sorrow know how much they love?)
Gods walks the earth, or beings more than men!   From every little noise catch hope and fear,
Ha! then come thronging many a wild desire,    Exchanging still, still as they turn to hear,
And high imaginings and thoughts of fire!      Whispers and sighs, and smiles all tenderness!
Then from within a voice exclaims'Aspire!'   That would in vain the starting tear repress."
Phantoms,. that upward point, before him pass,                                    pp. 38, 39.
As in the Cave athwart the Wizard's glass," &c.
p. 24.     The scene. however) is not always purely
We cut short this tablature, however, as domestic-though all its lasting enjoyments
well as the spirited sketches of impetuous are of that origin, and look back to that con.
courage and devoted love that belong to the summation. His country requires the arm of
same period, to come to the joys and duties a free man! and home and all its joys must
of maturer life; which, we think, are described  be left, for the patriot battle. The sanguinary
with still more touching and characteristic and tumultuous part is slightly touched; But
beauties.  The Youth passes into this more  the return is exquisite; nor do we know, any
tranquil and responsible state, of course, by twhere, any verses more touching and full of
Marriage; and we have great satisfaction in  abortfelt beauty, than some of  o    extract
recurring, with our uxorious poet, to his representation of that engaging ceremony, upon  "H Ile goes, and Night comes as it never came!
which his thoughts seem  to dwell with so  With shrieks of horror!-and a vault of flame!
hmuch fondness and  complacency.               And lo! when morning mocks the desolate,
Red runs the rivulet by; and at the gate
"Then are they blest indeed! and swift the hours Breathless a horse without his rider stands!
Till her young Sisters wreathe her hair in flowers, But hush!.. a shout from the victorious bands
Kindling her beauty-while, unseen, the least   And oh the smiles and tears! a sire restor'd!
Twitches her robe, then runs behind the rest,  One wears his helm-one buckles on nis sword.




422                                      POETRY.
One hangs the wall with laurel-leaves, and all  Again with honour to his hearth restor'd,
Spring to prepare the soldier's festival;      Lo, in the accustom'd chair and at the board,
While She best-lov'd, till then forsaken never,  Thrice greeting those that most withdravw then
Clings round his neck, as she would cling for ever!   claim
" Such golden deeds lead on to golden days,    (The humblest servant calling by his name),
Days of domestic peace-by him who plays        He reads thanksgiving in the eyes of all,
On the great stage how uneventful thought;     All met as at a holy festival!
Yet with a thousand busy projects fraught,     -On the day destin'd for his funeral!
A thousand incidents that stir the mind        Lo, there the Friend, who, entering where he lay,'fo pleasure, such as leaves no sting behind!  Breath'd in his drowsy ear'Away, away!
Such as the heart delights in-and records      Take thou my cloak-Nay, start not, but obeyWithin how silently-in more than words!       Take it and leave me.' Arid the blushing Maid,
A Holyday-the frugal banquet spread            Who through the streets as through a desert stray'd;
On the fresh herbage near the fountain-head    And, when her dear, dear Father pass'd along,
With quips and cranks-what time the wood-lark  Would not be held; but, bursting through the throng,
there                                  Halberd and battle-axe-kissed him o'er and o'er;
Scatters her loose notes on the sultry air,    Then turn'd and went-then sought him as before,
What time the king-fisher sits perch'd below,  Believing she should see his face no more!"
Where, silver-bright, the water lilies blow:-                                    pp. 48-50.
A Wake-the booths whit'ning the village-green,
Where-Punch and Scaramouch aloft are seen;        What follows is sacred to still higher re.
Sign beyond sign in close array unfurl'd,      membrances.
Picturing at large the wonders of the world;
And far and wide, over the vicar's pale,        "And now once more where most he lov'd to be,
Black hoods and scarlet crossing hill and dale,  In his own fields-breathing tranquillityAll, all abroad, and music in the gale:-       We hail him-not less happy, Fox, than thee!
A Wedding-dance-a dance into the night!       Thee at St. Anne's, so soon of Care beguil'd,
On the barn-floor when maiden-feet are light;  Playful, sincere, and artless as a child!
When the young bride receives the promis'd dower, Thee, who wouldst watch a bird's nest on the spray,
And flowers are flung,'herself a fairer flower:'-   Through the green leaves exploring, day by day.
A morning-visit to the poor man's shed,        How oft from grove to grove, from seat to seat,
(W ho would be rich while One was wanting bread?) With thee conversing in thy lov'd retreat,
When all are emulous to bring relief,          I saw the sun go down!-Ah, then'twas thine
And tears are falling fast-but not for grief:-  Ne'er to forget some volume half divine,  [shade
A Walk in Spring-Gr*tt*n, like those with thee, Shakespeare's or Dryden's-thro' the chequer'd
By the heath-side (who had not envied me?)    Borne in thy hand behind thee as we stray'd;
When the sweet limes, so full of bees in June,  And where we sate (and many a halt we made)
Led us to meet beneath their boughs at noon;   To read there with a fervour all thy own, -
And thou didst say which of the Great and Wise,  And in thy grand and melancholy tone,
Could they but hear and at thy bidding rise,   Some splendid passage not to thee unknown,
Thou wouldst call up and question."-pp. 42-46.  Fit theme for long discourse.-Thy bell has toll'd'
-But in thy place among us we behold
Other cares and trials and triumphs await One that resembles thee."-pp. 52, 53.
him.  He fights the good fight of freedom  in
the senate, as he had done before in the field-   The scene of closing Age is not less beautiful
and with greater peril.  The heavy hand of and attractive-nor less true and exemplary.
power weighs upon him, and he is arraigned                        "'Tis the sixth hour.
of crimes against the State.                   The village-clock strikes from the distant tower.
" Like Hampden struggling in his country's cause, The ploughman leaves the field; the traveller hears,
And to the inn spurs forward. Nature wears
The first to brookh e foremost to obey the law s,  Her sweetest smile; the day-star in the west
Careless of broklam e  w hile his own heat mroves,    Yet hovering, and the thistle's down at rest.
Careless of blame while his own heart aporoves,
Careless of ruin-(" For the general good         " And such, his labour done, the calm IIe knows,'Tis not the first time I shall shed my blood.")  Whose footsteps we have follow'd. Round him
On through that gate misnamed,* through which          glows
before,                                An atmosphere that brightens to the last;
Went Sidney, Russel, Raleigh, Cranmer, More!  The light, that shines, reflected from the Past,
On into twilight within walls of stone,        -And from the Future too! Active in Thought
Then to the place of trial; and alone,         Among old books, old friends; and not unsought
Alone before his judges in array               By the wise stranger. In his morning-hours,
Stands for his life! there, on that awful day,  When gentle airs stir the fresh-blowing flowers,
Counsel of friends-all human help denied-      He muses, turning up the idle weed;
All but from her who sits the pen to guide.    Or prunes or grafts, or in the yellow mead
Like that sweet saint who sat by Russel's sidef    Watches his bees at hiving-time; and now,
Under the judgment-seat!-But guilty men       The ladder resting on the orchard-bough,
Triumph not always. To his hearth again,       Culls the delicious fruit that hangs in air,
The purple plum, green fig, or golden pear,
* Traitor's Gate, in the Tower.              Mid sparkling eyes, and hands uplifted there.
t We know of nothing at once so pathetic and so   " At night, when all, assembling round the fire
sublime, as the few simple sentences here alluded  Closer and closer draw till they retire,
to, in the account of Lord Russel's trial.     A tale is told of India or Japan,
Lord Russel. May I have somebody write to help  Of merchants from Golcond or Astracan,
my memory?                                    What time wild Nature revelI'd unrestrain'd,
Mr. A ttorney General. Yes, a Servant.       And Sinbad voyag'd and the Caliphs reign'd;Lord Chief Justice. Any of your Servants shall Of some Norwegian, while the icy gale
assist you in writing any thing you please for you.  Rings in the shrouds and beats the iron sail,
Lord Russel. My Wife is here, my Lord, to do it? Among the snowy Alps of Polar seas
— When we recollect who Russel and his wife Immoveable-for ever there to freeze!
were, and what a destiny was then impending, this Or some great Caravan, from well to well
one trait makes the heart swell, almost to bursting. Winding as darkness onthe desert fell," &c,




ROGERS' HUMAN LIFE.                                    4n
"Age has now            "They stand between the mountains and tne sea
Sta np'd with its signet that ingenuous brow;  Awful memorials-but of whom we know not!
And,'mid his old hereditary trees,           The seaman, passing, gazes from the deck.
trees he has climb'd so oft, he sits and sees  The buffalo-driver, in his shaggy cloak,
His children's children playing round his knees:   Points to the work of magic, and moves on.
Envying no more the young their energies      Time was they stood along the crowded street,
Than they an old man when his words are wise;   Temples of Gods! and on their ample steps
His a delight how pure...without alloy;    What various habits, various tongues beset
Strong in their strength, rejoicing.in their joy!  The brazen gates, for prayer and sacrifice!
" Now in their turn assisting, they repay     " How many centuries did the sun go round
The anxious cares of many and many a day;     From Mount Alburnus to the Tyrrhene sea,
While, by some spell render'd invisible,
And now by those he loves reliev'd, restor'd,  Or, if approach'd, approached by him alone
His very wants and weaknesses afford          Or, if approach'd, approached by him alone
A feeling ofenjoyment. In his walks,          Who saw as though he saw not, they remain'd
Leaning on them, how oft he stops and talks,  As in the darkness of a sepulchre,
Waiting the appointed time! All, all within
While they look up! Their questions, their replies, Proclaims that Nature had resum'd her right,
Fresh as the welling waters, round him rise,  And taken to herself what man renounc'd;
Gladdening his spirit."-pp. 53-61.            And taken to herself what man renounc'd;
No cornice, triglyph, or worn abacus,
We have dwelt too long, perhaps, on a But with thick ivy hung or branching fern,
work more calculated to make a lasting, than  Their iron-brown o'erspread with brightestverdure!
twork   mopre alculated to make a lasitinr than    " From my youth upward have I longed to tread
a strong impression on the minds of its readers This classic ground.-And am I here at last?
-and not, perhaps, very well calculated for Wandering at will through the long porticoes,
being read at all in the pages of a Miscel- And catching, as through some majestic grove,
laneous Journal. We have gratified ourselves, Now the blue ocean, and now, chaos-like,
hovwever, in again going over it; and hope we Mountains and mountain-gulphs! and, half-way up,
have not much wearied our readers.  It is Towns like the living rock from which they grew I
A cloudy region, black and desolate,
followed by a very striking copy of verses Where once a slave withstood a world in arms.
written at Pmestum  in 1816-and more char-'"The air is sweet with violets, running wild
acteristic of that singular and most striking  Mid broken sculptures and fallen capitals!
scene, than any thing we have ever read, in  Sweet as when Tully, writing down his thoughts,
prose or verse, on the subject.  The ruins of Saild slowly by, two thousand years ago,
For Athens; when a ship, if north-east winds
Paestum, as they are somewhat improperly Blew from the Pestan gardens, slack'd her course.
called, consist of three vast and massive  The birds are hush'd awhile; and nothing stirs,
Temples, of the most rich and magnificent Save the shrill-voic'd cigala flitting round
architecture; which are not ruined at all, On the rough pediment to sit and sing;
but as entire as on the day when they were  Or the green lizard rustling through the grass,
built, while there is not a vestige left of the And up the fluted shaft, with short quick motion,
-,. 1,,,,,,,8,, *    To vanish in the chinks that Time has made!
city to which they belonged! They stand in a   " In such an hour as this, the sun's broad disk
desert and uninhabited plain, which stretches Seen at his setting, and a flood of light
for many miles from the sea to the mountains Filling the courts of these old sanctuaries,
— and, after the subversion of the Roman  (Gigantic shadows, broken and confus'd,
greatness. had fallen into such complete obli- Across the innumerable columns flung)
In such an hour he came, who saw and told,
vion, that for nearly nine hundred years they  Led by the mighty Genius of the Place'
had never been visited or heard of by any in- Walls of some capital city first appear'd,
telligent person, till they were accidentally  Half raz'd, half sunk, or scatter'd as in scorn;
discovered about the middle of the last cen- -And what within them? what but in the midst
tury.-The whole district in which they are  These Three, in more than their original grandeur,
situated, though once the most fertile and  And, round about, no stone upon another!
As if the spoiler had fallen back in fear,
flourishing part of the Tyrrhene shore, has And, turning, left them to the elements."
been almost completely depopulated by the
Mal'aria; and is now. in every sense of the    The volume ends with a little ballad, entl.
word, a vast and dreary desert.  The follow- tled " The Boy of Egremond" —which is well
ing lines seem  to us to tell all that need be enough for a Lakish ditty, but not quite wor.
told, and to express all that can be felt of a thy of the place in which we meet it.
suene so strange and so mournful.




43.                                     POETRY.
( Jule, 151~5.)
Rodcrick The Last of the Goths. By ROBERT SOUTHEY, Esq., Poet-Laureate, and Membei
of the Royal Spanish Academy.  4to. pp. 477.  London: 1814.*
THIS is the best, we think, and the most itself in a work of such length; but its worst
powerful of all Mr. Southey's poems.  It effect is, that it gives an air of falsetto and
abounds with lofty sentiments, and magnifi- pretension to the whole strain of the compocent imagery; and contains more rich and sition, and makes us suspect the author of
comprehensive descriptions —more beautiful imposture and affectation, even when he has
pictures of pure affection-and more im- good enough cause for his agonies and rappressive representations of mental agony and  tures.
exultation than we have often met with in    How  is it possible, indeed, to commit our
the compass of a single volume.               sympathies, without distrust, to the hands of
A work, of which all this can be said with a writer, who, after painting with infinite force
justice, cannot be without great merit; and  the anguish of soul which pursued the fallen
ought not, it may be presumed, to be without Roderick into the retreat to which his crimes
great popularity. Justice, however, has some- had driven him; proceeds with redoubled
thing more to say of it: and we are not quite emphasis to assure us, that neither his resure either that it will be very popular, or that morse nor his downfal were half so intolerait deserves to be so. It is too monotonous-  ble to him, as the shocking tameness of the sea
too wordy-and too uniformly stately, tragical, birds who flew round about him in that utter
and emphatic.  Above all, it is now and then solitude! and were sometimes so familiar as
a little absurd —and pretty frequently not a to brush his cheek with their wings?
little affected.
~~~~~~~~little affected.                    "For his lost crown
The author is a poet undoubtedly; but not And sceptre never had he felt a thought
of the highest order.  There is rather more Of pain: Repentance had no pangs to spare
of rhetoric than of inspiration about him - For trifles such as these. The loss of these
and we have oftener to admire his taste and  Was a cheap penalty:.. that he had fallen
industry in borrowing and adorning, than the Down to the lowest depth of wretchedness,
boldness or felicity of his inventions.  He His hope and consolation. But to lose
has indisputably a great gift of amplifying  His human station in the scale of things,..
has indisputably a reat  gift of amplifying  To see brute Nature scorn him, and renounce
and exalting; but uses it; we must say, rather Its homage to the human form divine!..
unmercifully.  He is never plain, concise, or Had then almighty vengeance thus reveal'd
unaffectedly simple, and is so much bent upon His punishment, and was he fallen indeed
making the most of every thiug, that he is Below fallen man,.. below redemption's reach,..
perpetually overdoing.  His sentiments and Made lower than the beasts?"-p. 17.
situations are. of course, sometimes ordinary    This, if we were in bad humour, we should
enough; but the tone of emphasis and pre- be tempted to say, was little better than driveltension is never for a moment relaxed; and ling;-and certainly the folly of it is greatly
the most trivial occurrences, and fantastical aggravated by the tone of intense solemnity
distresses, are commemorated with the same in which it is conveyed: But the worst fault
vehemence and exaggeration of manner, as by far, and the most injurious to the effect of
the most startling incidents, or the deepest the author's greatest beauties, is the extreme
and most heart-rending disasters.  This want diffuseness and verbosity of his style, and his
of relief and variety is sufficiently painful of unrelenting anxiety to leave nothing to the
fancy, the feeling, or even the plain under* I have, in my time, said petulant and provo- standing of his readers-but to have every
king things of Mr. Southey:-and such as I would thing set down, and impressed and hammered
not say now. But I am not conscious that I was into them, which it may any how conduce to
ever unfair to his Poetry: and if I have noted his glory that they should comprehend. There
what I thought its faults, in too arrogant and derisive a spirit, I think I have never failed to give never was any author, we are persuaded, who
hearty and cordial praise to its beauties —and had so great a distrust of his readers' capagenerally dwelt much more largely on the latter city, or such an unwillingness to leave any
than the former. Few things, at all events, would opportunity of shining unimproved; and acnow grieve me more, than to think I might give cordingly, we rather think there is no author
pain to his many friends and admirers, by reprint- who with the same talents and attainments,
ing, so soon after his death, any thing which might who wth the same talents and attainments,
appear derogatory either to his character or his has been so generally thought tedious-or
genius; and therefore, though I cannot say that I acquired, on the whole, a popularity so inhave substantially changed any of the opinions I ferior to his real deservings.  On the present
fiave formerly expressed as to his writings, I only occasion, we have already said, his deseryvinsert in this publication my review of his last ings appear to us unusually great, and his
considerable poem: which may be taken as con- faults less than commonly conspicuous. But
veying my matured opinion of his merits-and will
se felt, I trust, to have done no scanty or unwilling though there is less childishness and trifling
justice to hiis great and peculiar powers.    in this, than in any of his other productions,




SOUTHEY'S RODERICK.                               425
there is still, we are afraid, enough of tedious- suggested,.more utte ly alien to all Englisb
ness and affected energy, very materially to prejudices, traditions, and habits of poetical
obstruct the popularity which the force, and contemplation, than the domestic history of
the tenderness and beauty of its better parts, the last Gothic King of Spain,-a history exmight have otherwise commanded.           tremely remote and obscure in itself, and
There is one blemish, however, which we treating of persons and places and events,
think peculiar to the work before us; and with which no visions or glories are associated
that is, the outrageously religious, or rather in English imaginations. The subject, howfanatical, tone which pervades its whole every was selected, we suppose, during that
structure;- the excessive horror and abuse period when a zeal for Spanish liberty, and a
with which the Mahometans are uniformly belief in Spanish virtue, spirit and talent, were
spoken of on account of their religion alone;  extremely fashionable in this country; and
and the offensive frequency and familiarity before "the universal Spanish people" had
with which the name and the sufferings of made themselves the objects of mixed conour Saviour are referred to at every turn of tempt and compassion, by rushing prone into
the story. The spirit which is here evinced the basest and most insulted servitude that
towards the Moors not only by their valiant was ever asserted over human beings. From
opponents, but'by the author whefi speaking this degradation we do not think they will be
in his own person, is neither that of pious redeemed by all the heroic acts recorded in
reprobation nor patriotic hatred, but of savage this poem, —the interest of which, we susand bigotted persecution; and the heroic pect, will be considerably lowered, by the late
character and heroic deeds of his greatest revolution in public opinion, as to the merits
favourites are debased and polluted by the of the nation to whose fortunes it relates.paltry superstitions, and sanguinary fanati- After all, however, we think it must be allowcism. which he is pleased to ascribe to them. ed, that any author who interests us in his
This, which we are persuaded would be re- story, has either the merit of choosing a good
volting in a nation of zealous Catholics, must subject, or a still higher merit; — and Mr.
be still more distasteful, we think, among Southey, in our opinion, has made his story
sober Protestants; while, on the other hand. very interesting. Nor should it be forgotten,
the constant introduction of the holiest per- that by the choice which he has made, he has
sons, and most solemn rites of religion, for secured immense squadrons of Moors, with
the purpose of helping on the flagging in- their Asiatic gorgeousness, and their cymbals,
terest of a story devised for amusement, can turbans, and Paynim  chivalry, to give a picscarcely fail to give scandal and offence to all turesque effect to his battles —and bevies of
persons of right feeling or just taste. This veiled virgins and ladies in armour, —and
remark may be thought a little rigorous by hermits and bishops,-and mountain villagers
those who have not looked into the work to -and torrents and forests, and cork trees and
which it is applied-For they can have no sierras, to remind us of Don Quixote, —and
idea of the extreme frequency, and palpable store of sonorous names: —and altogether, he
extravagance, of the allusions and invoca- might have chosen worse among more familiar
tions to which we have referred.-O0ne poor objects.
woman, for example, who merely appears to   The scheme or mere outline of the fable is
give alms to the fallen Roderick in the season extremely short and simple. Roderick. the
of his humiliation, is very needlessly made to valiant and generous king of the Goths, being
exclaim, as she offers her pittance,      unhappily married, allows his affections to
"Christ Jesus, for his Mother's sake,  wander on the lovely daughter of Count Julian;
save mercy on thee,"                and is so far overmastered by his passion, as,
in a moment of frenzy, to offer violence to her
-and soon after the King himself, when he person. Her father, in revenge of this cruel
hears one of his subjects uttering curses on wrong, invites the Moors to seize on the kinghis name, is pleased to say,              dom of the guilty monarch;-and assuming
"Oh, for the love of Jesus curse him not!  their faith, guides them at last to a signal and
0 brother, do not curse that sinful soul,  sanguinary victory. Roderick, after performWhich Jesus suffer'd on the cross to save!"  ing prodigies of valour, in a seven-days fight
Whereupon, one of the more charitable audi- feels at length that Heaven has ordained all
tors rejoins,                             this misery as the penalty of his offences:
and, overwhelmed with remorse and inward
"Christ bless thee, brother, for that Christian agony, falls from his battle horse in the midst
speech! "of the carnage: Stripping off his rich armour,
-and so the talk goes on, through the greater he then puts on the dress of a dead peasant;
part of the poem.  Now, we must say we and, pursued by revengeful furies, rushes
think this both indecent and ungraceful; and desperately on through his lost and desolated
look upon it as almost as exceptionable a kingdom, till he is stopped bythe sea; on the
way of increasing the solemnity of poetry, as rocky and lonely shore of which he passes
common swearing is of adding to the energy more than a year in constant agonies of peniof discourse.                             tence and humiliation,-till he is roused at
We are not quite sure whether we should length, by visions and impulses, to undertake
reckon his choice of a subject, among Mr. something for the deliverance of his suffering
Southey's errors on the present occasion;s-  people. Grief and abstinence have now so
but certainly no theme cc uld well have been changed him, that he is recognised by no sne,




426                                     POETRY.
and being universally believed to have fallen tyrdom for his sake, and to bear nim company
in battle, he traverses great part of his for- in the retreat to which he is hastening. They
mer realm, witnering innumerable scenes of set out together, and fix themselves in a little
wretchedness and valour, and rousing, by his rocky bay, opening out to the lonely roar of
holy adjurations, all the generous spirits in  the Atlantic.
Spain, to unite against the invaders. After a
variety of trials and adventures, he at last   Behind them was the desert, offering fruit
2 e      o  ahso      vo And water for their need; on~either side
recovers his good war horse, on the eve of a The white sand sparkling to the sun; in front,
great battle with the infidels; and, bestriding  Great Ocean with its everlasting voice,
him in his penitential robes, rushes furiously  As in perpetual jubilee, proclaim'd
into the heart of the fight, where, kindling  The wonders of the Almighty, filling thus
with the scene and the cause, he instinctively      pauses of their fervent orisons.
The pauses of their fervent orisons.
rawith the scene ant warthe cryuse, he instinctively his Where better could the wanderers rest than here?"
raises his ancient war cry, as he deals his
resistless blows on the heads of the mis-p. 14.
believers; and the thrilling words of "Rode-   The Second Book begins with stating, that
rick the Goth! Roderick and victory!' re- Roderick passed twelve months in penance
sounding over the astonished field, are taken  and austerities, in this romantic retreat.-At
up by his inspired followers, and animate the end of that time. his ghostly father dies;
them to the utter destruction of the enemy. and his agonies become more intolerable, in
At the close of the day, however, when the the utter desolation to which he is now left.
field is won, the battle horse is found without The author, however, is here a little unlucky
its rider! and the sword which he wielded'in two circumstances, which he imagines and
lying at his feet.  The poem  closes with a describes at great length, as aggravating his
brief intimation, that it was not known till unspeakable misery;-one is the tameness of
many centuries thereafter, that the heroic the birds, —of which we have spoken already
penitent had again sought the concealment of — the other is the reflection which he very
a remote hermitage, and ended his days in innocently puts into the mouth of the lonely
solitary penances. The poem, however, both King; that all the trouble he has taken in digrequires and deserves a more particular ana- ging his own grave, will now be thrown away,
lysis.                                        as there will probably be nobody to stretch
The first book or canto opens with a slight him out, and cover him  decently up in it!sketch of the invasion, and proceeds to the However he is clearly made out to be very
fatal defeat and heart-struck flight of Roderick. miserable; and prays for death, or for the
The picture of the first descent of the Moorish imposition of some more active penanceinvaders, is a good specimen of the author's
broader and more impressive manner.  He is   But stillness, and this dreadful solitude!"
addressing the rock of Gibraltar.
At length he is visited, in his sleep, by a
Thou saw' st the dark blue waters flash before   vision of his tender mother  who gives him
Their ominous way, and whiten round their keels  on of his tender mother; who gives him
Their swarthy myriads darkening o'er thy sands.   her blessing in a gentle voice, and  says,
There, on the beach, the misbelievers spread  "Jesus have mercy on thee."  The air and
Their banners, flaunting to the sun and breeze:    countenance of this venerable shade, as she
Fair shone the sun upon their proud array,    bent in sorrow  over her unhappy son, are
White turbans, glitt'ring armour, shields engrail'd fully depicte
With gold, and scymitars of Syrian steel;     powerfully depicted in the following allusion
And gently did the breezes, as in sport,      to her domestic calamities. He traced there
Curl their long flags outrolling, and display  it seems, not only the settled sadness of her
The blazon'd scrolls of blasphemy." —pp. 2, 3.    widowhoodThe agony of the distracted king, as he  " But a more mortal wretchedness than when
flies in vain from himself through his lost and  Witiza's ruffians and the red-hot brass
ruined kingdom; and the spectacle which  Had done their work, and in her arms she held
Her eyeless husband; wip'd away the sweat
every where presented itself of devastation  Which still his tortures forc'd from every pore 
and terror, and miserable emigration, are rep- Cool'd his scorch'd lips with medicinal herbs,
resented with great force of colouring.  At And pray'd the while for patience for herself
the end of the seventh day of that solitary  And him,-and pray'd for vengeance too! and found
and despairing flight, he arrives at the portal Best comfort in her curses."-pp. 23, 24.
of an ancient convent, from which all its holy While he gazes on this piteous countenance
tenants lhad retired on the approach of the the character of the vision is suddenly alMoors, except one aged priest, who had staid  tered; and the verses describing the alteration
to deck the altar, and earn his crown of martyr- afford a good specimen both of Mr. Southey's
dom from the infidel host. By him Roderick  command of words, and of the profusion with
is found grovelling at the foot of the cross, and  which he sometimes pours them  out on his
drowned in bitter and penitential sorrows.-  readers.
He leads him in with compassionate soothings,
and supplicates him before the altar to be of         -- -  - And lo! her form was chang'd!
comfort, and to trust in mercy. The result is Radiant in arms she stood! a bloody Cross
told with great feeling and admirable effect: Gleam'd on her breastplate; in her shield display'd
and the worthy father weeps and watches with  Erect a Lion ramp'd; her helmed head
and the worthy fathrwepshRose like the Berecynthian Goddess crown'd
his penitent through the night: and in the  With towers, and in her dreadful hand the sword,
morning resolves te forego the glories of mar- Red as a fire-brand blaz'd! Anon the tramp




SOUTHEY'S RODERICK.                                   421
til horsemen, and the din of multitudes      Each where they fell; and blood-flakes, parch'd
Moving to mortal conflict, rung around;              and crack'd
The battle-song, the clang of sword and shield,    Like the dry slime of some receding flood;
War-cries and tumult, strife and hate and rage,    And half-burnt bodies, which allur'd from far
Blasphemous prayers, confusion, agony,        The wolf and raven, and to impious food
Rout and pursuit, and death! and over all    Tempted the houseless dog."-p. 36.
The shout of Victory... of Spain and Victory! While he is gazing on this dreadful scene
pp. 24, 25.   While he is gazing on this dreadful scene
from  this prophetic 24, 25.   with all the sympathies of admiration andi
In awaking from this prophetic dream, he sorrow, a young and lovely woman rushes
resolves to seek occasion of active service, from the ru           and implores him  to assist he
in such humble capacity as becomes his fallenfrom the ruins, and implores him to assist her
in such humble capacity as becomes his fallen in burying the bodies of her child. husband,
fortune; and turns from this first abode of his in burying the bodies of her child husband,
apemience and despair.                     and parents, who all lie mangled at her feet.
Pct'ience and despair.                        He sadly complies; and listens, with beating
The Third Book sets him on his heroic pil- heart and kindling eyes, to the vehement nargrimage; and opens with a fine picture.       rative and lofty vow of revenge with which
"'Twas now the earliest morning; soon the Sun,  this heroine closes her story. The story itself
Rising above Albardos, pour'd his light       is a little commonplace; turning mainly uponl
Amid the forest, and with ray aslant          her midnight  slaughter of the Moorish capEnt'ring its depth illum'd the branchless pines;    her midnight slaughter of the Moorish capBrighten'd their bark, ting'd with a redder hue
Its rusty stains, and cast along the floor    sacrifice of all her family; but the expression
Long lines of shadow, where they rose erect,  of her patriotic devotedness and religious arLike pillars of the temple. With slow foot    dour of revenge, is given with great energy;
Roderick pursued his way."-p. 27.            as well as the effect which it produces on the
We do not know that we could extract from  waking spirit of the King. He repeats the
the whole book a more characteristic passage solemn vow which she has just taken, and
than that which describes his emotion on his consults her as to the steps that may be taken
first return to the sight of man. and the altered  for rousing the valiant of the land to their asaspect of his fallen people. He approaches to sistance.  The  high-minded Amazon  then
the walls of Leyria.                          asks the name of her first proselyte.
"The sounds, the sight' Ask any thing but that!
Of turban, girdle, robe, and scymitar,        The fallen King replied. My name was lost
And tawny skins, awoke contending thoughts    When from the Goths the sceptre past away!"
Of anger, shame, and anguish in the Goth!       She rejoins, rather
The unaccustom'd face of human-kind             She rejoins, rather-ess felicitously, "Then
Confus'd him now, and through the streets he went be thy name Maccabee;" and sends him on an
With hagged mien, and countenance like one    embassage to a worthy abbot among  the
Craz'd or bewilder'd.                         mountains; to whom  he forthwith reports
Put alms into his hand,  One stopt him short,  what he had seen and witnessed. Upon hearPut alms into his hand, and then desir'd,
In broken Gothic speech, the moon-struck man    ing the story of her magnanimous devotion,
lTo bless him. With a look of vacancy         the worthy priest instantly divines the name
Roderick receiv'd the alms; his wand'ring eye  of the heroine.
Fell on the money; and the tallen King,         Oh none but Adosinda!  none but she,
Seeing his own royal impress on the piece,Oh none but  Adosinda! n o ne buthich was the heart
Broke out into a quick convulsive voice,                        heart
That seem'd like laughter first, but ended soon  Of Auria while it stood-its life and strength,
In hollow  groans supprest'                  More than her father's presence, or the arm
A Christian woman spinning at her door        Of her brave lord, all valiant as he was.
Beheld him, and with sudden pity touch'd,     Hers was the spirit which inspir'd old age,
She laid her spindle by, and running in       Ambitious boyhood, girls in timid youth,
Took bread, and following after call'd him back,   And virgins in the beauty of their spring,
And placing in his passive hands the loaf,    And youthful mothers, doting lile herself
She said, Christ Jesus for his Mother's sake  With ever-anxious love: She breath'd through all
Have mercy on thee! With a look that seem'd    That zeal and that devoted faithfulness,
Like idiotcy, he heard her, and stood still,  Which to the invader's threats and promises
Staring awhile; then bursting into tears      Turn'd a deafear alike, &c.-pp. 53-54.
Wept like a child!                             The King then communes on the affairs of
The open fields, and found himself alone      Spain with this venerable Ecclesiastic and his
Beneath the starry canopy of Heaven,          associates; who are struck with wonder at the
The sense of solitude, so dreadful late,     lofty mien which still shines through his sunk
Was then repose and comfort. There he stopt    and mortified frame.
Beside a little rill, and.brake the loaf;
And shedding o'er that unaccustom'd food      " They scann'd his countenance: But not a trace
Painful but quiet tears, with grateful soul   Betray'd the royal Goth! sunk was that eye
He breath'd thanksgiving forth; then made his bed  Of sov'reignty; and on the emaciate cheek
On heath and myrtle." —pp. 28-30.             Had penitence and anguish deeply drawn
Their furrows premature,.. forestalling time,
After this, he journeys on through deserted  And shedding upon thirty's brow, more snows
hamlets and desolated towns, till, on entering  Than threescore winters in their natural course
the silent streets of Auria, yet black with  Might else have sprinkled there."-p. 57.
conflagration, and  stained with blood, the    At length, the prelate lays his consecrating
vestiges of a more heroic resistance appear hands on him; and sends him to Pelayo, the
before him.                                   heir-apparent of the sceptre, then a prisoner'Helmet and turban, scymitar and sword,      or hostage at the court of the Moorish prince,
Cthristian and Moor in death promiscuous lay  to say that the mountaineers are still unsnb.



428                                     POETRY.
dued, and ~ook to him  to guide them  to  " She bar'd her face, and, looking up, replied,
vengeance.                                    Florinda!.. Shrinking then, with both her hands
These scenes last through two books* and  She hid hers and and bo her her head abas'd
at the beginning of the Fifth, Roderick sets Pelayo stood confus'd: He had not seen
out on his mission.  Here, while he reposes Count Julian's daughter since, in Rod'rick's court.
himself in a rustic inn, he hears the assem- Glittering in beauty and in innocence,
bled guests at once lamenting the condition  A radiant vision, in her joy she mov'd!
of Spain, and imprecating curses on the head  More like a poet's dream, or form divine,
of its guilty King. He says a few words vehe- Heaven's prototype of perfect womanhood,
So lovely was the presence,.. than a thing
mently for himself; and is supported by a Of earth and perishable elements."-p. 110.
venerable old man, in whom  he soon recognises an ancient servant of his mother's house    She then tells him, that wretched as she is,
-the guardian and playmate of his infant the  renegade Orpas seeks her hand; and
days.  Secure from  discovering himself. he begs his assistance to send her beyond his
musters courage to ask if his mother be'still reach, to a Christian land.  He promised that
alive; and is soothed to milder sorrow  by  she shall share his own fate; and they part
learning that she is. At dawn he resumes tillevening.
his course; and kneeling at a broken crucifix The Tenth Book sends all the heroic party
on the road, is insulted by a Moor, who po-        their night pilgrimage to the mountains
litely accosts him with a kick, and the dig- of Asturia. Roderick and Siverian had gone
nified  address of " God's curse  confound  before.  Pelayo, with Alphonso and Florinda,
thee!" for which Roderck knocks him down,.follow in the disguise of peasants. Their,
and stabs  hi  with his own dagger.  The midnight march, in that superb climate, is
and stabs IkLirmi with his own dagger. The well described. 
worthy old man, whose name is Siverian, well described
comes up just as this feat is performed, and          -   " The favouring moon arose,
is requested to assist in " hiding the carrion," To guide them on their flight through upland paths
after which they proceed lovingly toogether. Remote from frequentage, and dales retir'd,
ntheir   a ach t oe Crordob  tethe r. Forest and mountain glen. Before their feet
Oni their approach to Cordoba, the old man  The fire-flies, swarming in the woodland shade,
calls sadly to mind the scene which he had  Sprung up like sparks, and twinkled round their
witnessed at his last visit to that place, some       way;
ten years before, when Roderick, in the pride  The timorous blackbird, starting at their step,
of his youthful triumph, had brought the  Fled from the thicket, with shrill note of fear;
And far below them in the peopled dell,
haughty foe of his father to the grave where When all the soothing sounds of eve had ceas'd,
his ashes were interred, and his gentle mother The distant watch-dog's voice at times was heard,
came to see that expiation made. The King Answering the nearer wolf. All through the night
listens to this commemoration of his past Among the hills they travell'd silently;
glories with deep, but suppressed emotion   Till when the stars were setting, at what hour
and entering the chapel, falls prostrate on the The breath of Heaven is coldest, they beheld
Within a lonely grove the expected fire,
grave of his father.  A majestic figure starts Where Rod'riclk and his comrade anxiously
forward at that action, in the dress of penitence  Look for the appointed meeting."
and mourning; and the pilgrims recognise "Bright rose the flame replenish'd; it illum'd
Pelayo, to whom  they both come commis- The cork-tree's furrow'd rind, its rifts and swells
sioned.  This closes the Sixth Book.          And redder scars,.. and where its aged boughs
The Seventh contains their account of the  O'erbower'd the travellers, cast upon the leaves
state of affairs, and Pelayo's solemn accept- A floating, grey, unrealising gleam."-pp. 117,118,
ance of the dangerous service of leaving the    The rest soon sink in serene and untroubled
meditated insurrection.  The abdicated mon- sleep: But Roderick and Florinda, little dreamarch then kneels down and hails him King ing of each other's presence, are kept awake
of Spain! and Siverian, though with mourn- by bitter recollections. At last she approaches
ful remembrances. follows the high example. him; and. awed by the sanctity of his air and
The Eighth Book continues this midnight raiment, kneels down before him, and asks if
conversation; and introduces the young Al- he knows who the wretch is who thus grovels
phonso, Pelayo's fellow-prisoner, at the Moor- before him. He answers that he does not: —
ish court, who is then associated to their
counsels, and enters with eager delight into  One who is known too fatally for all,..
their plans of escape.  These two books are The daughter of Count Julian!'... Well it was
rather dull; though not without force and  For Rod'rick that no eye beheld him now!
dignity.  The worst thing in them is a bit of From head to foot a sharper pang than death
rnetoric of Alphonso, who complains that his Thrill'd him; his heart, as at a mortal stroke,
delight in watching the moon setting over his Ceas'd from its functions; his breath fail'd." — p. 1.20.
native hills, was all spoiled, on looking up and    The darkness and her own emotions pre.
seeing the Moorish crescent on the towers!  vent her, however, from  observing him, and
The Ninth Book introduces an important she proceeds:person-Florinda, the unhappy daughter of "' Father! at length she said, all tongues amid
Count Julian.  She sits muffled by Pelayo's This general ruin shed their bitterness
way. as he returns from the chapel; an. begs On Rod'rick; load his memory with reproach,
a boon of him  in the name'of Roderick, the  And with their curses persecute his soul.'...
chosen friend of h is youth.  He  asks who it'Why shouldst thou tell me this?' exclaim'd the
is that adjures him by that beloved but now  From his cold forehead wiping as he spake  [guilt
unuttered name' —                             The death-like moisture:.. Why of Rod'rick's




SOUTHEY'S RODERICK.                                     42
Tell mo? Or thinkest thou I know it not?     O'ercame him, thou wilt do for Roderick
A!as! who hath not heard the hideous tale     All he could ask thee, all that can be done
Of Rod'rick's shame!' "-                      On earth, and all his spirit could endure!'
" There!  she cried, Then, vent'ring towards her an imploring look,
Drawing her body backward where she kncried,' Wilt thou join with me for his soul in prayer?'
Drawing her body backward where she knelt,     He said, and trembled as he spake. That voice
And stretching forth her arms with head uprais'd,.. osympathy was like  eaven's in.uence,
There! it pyrsues me still!. I came to thee,  O  sympathy was like Heavens Influence,
There  it prses me still.I came to thee,  Wounding at once and comforting the soul.
Father, for comfort-and thou heapest fire                  Christ reqite thee' sheexclam'd
UpoAnd let me  undeceive thear me lfabasd,'Thou hast set free the springs which with'ring
And let me undeceive thee! Self-abas'd, Have elos'd too long.''-[ i
Not to arraign another, do I comesd too..                          "                   [griefs
I come a self-accuser, self-conde!nnd,                              " Then in a firmer speech,
I To take upon myself thselfco pain demnerv'd,'For Rod'rick, for Count Julian, and myself,
To take upon myself the pain deserv'd;         Three wretchedest of all the human race!
For I having drank therein cup of bitterness, grace Who have destroy'd each other and ourselves,
And having drank therein of heavenly grace,    M
must not put away the cup of shame.'     utually wrong'd and wronging-let us pray!"
I must not put away the cup of shame. pp. 133, 134.
pp. 133, 134.
"' Thus as she spake she falter'd at the close,  There is great power, we think, and great
And in that dying fall her voice sent forthn this part of the poem.
Sornwhat of its original sweetness.'Thou!.   dramatic talent, in this part of the poem.
Thou self-abas'd!' exclaim'd the astonish'd King;.. The  eeting of Roderick and Florinda was a'Thou self-condemn'd!'.. The cup of shame for touchstone for a poet who had ventured on
thee!                                 such a subject; and Mr. Southey, we must
Thee.. thee, Florinda!'.. But the very excess   say, has come out of the test, of standard
Of passion check'd his speech."-pp. 121, 122.    weight and purity.
Still utterly unconscious of her strange con-    The Eleventh Book brings them  in safety
fessor, she goes on to explain herself:-       to the castle of Count Pedro, the Father of the
young Alphonso, formerly the feudal foe, but
-"' I lov'd the King!..     now the loyal soldier of Pelayo.  They find
Tenderly, passionately, madly lov'd him'
TeSinful t wassionately, madly lovd hi    m         arming in his courts, with all his vassals,
Sinful it was to love a child of earth
With such entire devotion as I lov'd           to march instantly against the Moors: And
Rod'rick, the heroic Prince, the glorious Goth!    their joyful welcome, and the parental delight
He was the sunshine of my soul! and like       of father and mother at the return of their
A flower, I liv'd and flourish'd in his light  noble boy, are very beautifully described.
Oh bear not with me thus impatiently!            The Twtelfth Canto continues these prepaNo tale of weakness this, that in the act
No tale of weakness thns, that in the act      rations.-The best part of it is the hasty and
Of penitence; indulgent to itself,
With garrulous palliation half repeats         hopeful investiture of the young Alphonso,
The sin it ill repents. I will be brief.'."    with the honours of knighthood.  The mixpp. 123, 124.    ture of domestic affection with nlilitary arShe then describes the unconscious growth  dour, and the youthful innocence, ingenuous
of their mutual passion-enlarges upon her modesty, and unclouded hopes of that bloomown imprudence imprudence in affording him  opportuni- ing age, are feelingly combined in the followties of declaring it-and expresses her con- ing amiable picture, in which the classical
viction, that the wretched catastrophe was reader will recognise many touches of true
brought about, not by any premeditated guilt, Homeric description:but in a moment of delirium, which she had                         " Rejoicing in their task,
herself been instrumental in bringing on-:   The servants of the house with emulous love
Dispute the charge. One brings the cuirass, one
*" Here then, O Father, at thy feet I own      The buckler; this exultingly displays
Myself the guiltier; and full well I knew      The sword, his comrade lifts the helm on high:
These were his thoughts! But vengeance master'd  Greek artists in the imperial city forg'd
And in my agony I curst the man          [me, That splendid armour, perfect in their craft;
Whom I lov'd best.'                            With curious skill they wrought it, fram'd alike'Dost thou recall that curse t' To shine amid the pageantry of war,
Cried Rod'rick, in a deep and inward voice,    And for the proof of battle. Many a time
Still with his head depress'd, and covering still  Alphonso from his nurse's lap had stretch'd
His countenance.'Recall it?' she exclaim'd;  His infant hand toward it eagerly,' Father! I came to thee because I gave        Where, gleaming to the central fire, it hung
The reins to wrath too long., because I wrought   High on the hall.His ruin, death, and infamy... O God,         No season this for old solemnities!
Forgive the wicked vengeance thus indulg'd!   For wassailry and sport;.. the bath, the bed,
As I forgive the King!' "-p. 132.              The vigil,.. all preparatory rites
Omitted now,.. here in the face of Heaven,
Roderick again stops her enthusiastic self- Before the vassals of his father's house,
accusation, and rejects her too generous vin- With them in instant peril to partake
dication of the King; and turning to Siverian, The chance of life or death, the heroic boy
adds —                                         Dons his first arms! the coated scales of steel
Which o'er the tunic to his knees depend;'
-"' To that old' man,' said he,    The hose, the sleeves of mail: bareheaded then' Ard to the mother of the unhappy Goth,       He stood. But when Count Pedro took the spurs,
Tell, if it please thee, not what thou hast pour'd    And bent his knee, in service to his son,
Into my secret ear, but that the child         Alphonso from that gesture half drew back,
For whom they mourn with anguish unallay'd     Starting in rev'rence, and a deeper hue
Sinn'd not from vicious will, or heart corrupt,  Spread o'er the glow of joy which flush'd his cheeks
But fell by fatal circumstance betray'd!       Do thou the rest, Pelayo! said the Count
And if, in charity to them, thou say'st        So shall the ceremony of this hour
Something to palliate, something to excuse     Exceed in honour what in form it lacks."
An act of sudden frenzy, when the fiend                                        pp. 147-149.




430                                    POETRY.
The ceremony is followed by a solemn vow    The all-enduring King shudders at these
of fidelity to Spain, and eternal war with the words of kindness; — but epressing his emo.
Infidel, administered by Roderick, and devout- tionly taken by the young Knight, and all his as- "'O venerable Lady, he replied,
sembled  followers.                          If aught may comfort that unhappy soul
The Thirteenth Book c6ntains a brief account It must be thy compassion, and thy pralers.
of the defeat of a Moorish detachment by this She whom he most hath wrong'd, she  ho alone
faithful troop; and of the cowardice and re- On earth can grant forgiveness for his crime
buke of Count Eudon, who had tamely ielded  She hath forgiven him! and thy blessing now
tobteinvaderso and is dismissed with scorn  Were all that he could ask,.. all that could bring
to the invaders.'and is dismissed wth scorn Profit or consolation to his soul,
to the castle which his brave countrymen had If he hath been, as sure we may believe,
redeemed. They then proceed to guard or A penitent sincere.' " —p. 182.
recover the castle of Pelayo.
recover the castle of Pelayo.                  Florinda then asks his prayers for her unThe Fourteenth Book describes their hap    py  and  apostate father; and his pray ers for her una
arrival at that fortress, at the fall of evening; to the means of rejoining him.
where, though they do not find his wife and
daughters, who had retired for safety, to a "While thus Florinda spake, the dog who lay
sacred- cave in the mountains, they meet a Before Rusilla's feet, eyeing him long
joyful and triumphant band of his retainers, And wistfully, had recognis'd at length,
joyful and triumphant band of his retainers, Chang'd as he was, and in those sordid weeds,
returning from a glorious repulse of the Moors, His royal master as And he rose and lick'd
and headed by the inspiring heroine Adosinda; His wither'd hand; and earnestly look'd up
who  speedily recognises in Roderick her With eyes whose human meaning did not need
mournful assistant and first proselyte at Auria  The aid of speech; and moan'd, as if at once
while he at the same moment discovers, To court and chide the long-withheld caress!
among the ladies of her train, the calm and  Afeelinguncommix'd with sense of guilt
a  r  Or shame, yet painfullest, thrill'd through the King,
venerable  aspect of his beloved  mother, But he, to self-control now long inured,
Rusilla.                                     Represt his rising heart," &c.-p. 186.
The Fifteenth Book contains the history of
his appearance before that venerated parent. He makes a short and pious answer to the
Unable to sleep, he had wandered forth before desolate Florinda; —and thendawn-                                        "o Deliberately, in self-possession, still,
- II"that morn     Himself from that most painful interview
Wit i d  thdath s morn  Dispeeding, he withdrew. The watchful dog
With its cold dews might bathe his throbbing brow, Follow'd his footsteps close. But he retir'd
And with its breath allay the fev'rish heat  Into the thickest grove; there giving way
That burnt within. Alas! the gales of morn   To his o'erburthen'd nature, from all eyes
Reach not the fever of a wounded heart!     Apart he cast himself upon the ground,
How shall he meet his mother's eye, how make    Apd threw his arms around the dog! and cried
His secret known, and from that voice rever'd  And threw his arms around the dog! and cried,
His secret Ikfnown, and from that voice rever'd  While tears stream'd down,'Thou, Theron, then
Obtain forgiveness!-p. 179.                         hast known
While he is meditating under what pretext Thy poor lost master,. Theron, none but thou!'"
~~~While he is meditating under what pretext  ~p. 187.
to introduce himself, the good Siverian comes
to say, that his lady wishes to see the, holy    The Sixteenth Book contains the re-union
father who had spoken so charitably of her of Pelayo's family in the cave of Covadonga.
unhappy son. —The succeeding scene is very His morning journey to the place of this glad
finely conceived, and supported with great meeting, through the enchanting scenery of
judgment and feeling.                        his native hills, and with the joyous company
of self-approving thoughts is well described.
"Count Julian's daughter with Rusilla sate;    Arrived at last upon the lonely platform
Both had been weeping, both were pale, but calm. which masks the cave in which the springs
With head as for humility abas'd             burst out and his children are concealed, he
Rod'rick approach'd, and bending, on his breast                     and the rock gives up
sounds his bugle note; and the rock gives up
He cross'd his humble arms. Rusilla rose
In reverence to the priestly character,      its inhabitants! There is something anima.
And with a mournful eye regarding him,       ting and impressive, but withal a little too
Thus she began.' Good Father, I have heard  classical and rapturous, in the full-length picFrom my old faithful servant and true friend,  ture of this delightful scene.
Thou didst reprove the inconsiderate tongue,
That in the anguish of its spirit pour'd' "But when a third and broader blast
A curse upon my poor unhappy child!         Rung in the echoing archway, ne'er did wand,
O Father Maccabee, this is a hard world,     With magic power endued, call up a sight
And hasty in its judgments! Time has been,  So strange, as sure in that wild solitude
When not a tongue within the Pyrenees        It seem'd when from the bowels of the rock,
Dar'd whisper in dispraise of Rod'rick's name.  The mother and her children hasten'd forti I
Now, if a voice be rais'd in his behalf,     She in the sober charms and dignity'Tis noted for a wonder; and the man         Of womanhood mature, nor verging yet
Who utters the strange speech shall be admir'd    Upon decay; in gesture like a queen,
For such excess of Christian charity.        Such inborn and habitual majesty
Thy Christian charity hath not been lost;..  Ennobled all her steps:.. Favila such
Father, I feel its virtue:.. it hath been  In form and stature, as the Sea Nymph's son,
Balm to my heart!.. With words and grateful When that wise Centaur, from his cave, well.
All that is left me now for gratitude,.. [tears,.. Beheld the boy divine hisgrowing strength [pleas'd
[ thank thee! and beseech thee in thy prayers  Against some shaggy lionet essay!'hat thou wilt still remember Rod'nick's name.'" And fixing in the half-grown mane his hands,
pp. 180, 181.   Roll with him in fierce dalliance intertwin'd!




SOUTHEY'S RODERICK.                                   438
But like a creature of some higher sphere  *  who has at last recognised him; and even
His sister came. She scarcely touch'd the rock,   while she approves of his penitential abandonSo light was Hermesind's aerial speed.       ment of the world, tempts him with bewitchBeauty and grace and innocence in her
In heavenly union shone. One who had held    ing visions of recovered fame and glory, and
The faith of elder Greece, would sure have thought of atonement made to Florinda, by placing
She was some glorious nymph of seed divine,  her in the rank of his queen.  He continues
Oread or Dryad, of Diana's train             firm, however, in his lofty purpose, and the
The youngest and the loveliest! yea she seem'd  pious Princess soon acquiesces in those pious
Angel. or soul beatfied, from realms lovresolutions; and, engaging to keep his secret,
Of bliss, on errand of parental love
To earth re-sent." —pp. 197, 198.            gives him her blessing, and retires.
The Twentieth Book conducts us to the
"Many a slow century, since that day, hath fill'd  Moorish camp and the presence of Count
Its course, and countless multitudes have trod
With pilgrim feet that consecrated cave;
Yet not in all those ages, amid all          promised hand of Florinda; and Julian apThe untold concourse, hath one breast been swoln peals to the Moorish Prince, whether the
With such emotions as Pelayo felt            law of Mahomet admits of a forced marriage.
That hour."-p. 201.                          The Prince attests that it does not; and then
The Seventeenth Book brings back the Julian, who has just learned that his daughter
story to Roderick; who, with feelings more was in the approaching host of Pelayo, obreconciled, but purposes of penitence and tains leave to despatch a messenger to invite
mortification as deep as ever. arid as resolved, her to his arms.
anuses by the side of the stream, on past and    The Twenty-first Book contains the meetfuture fortunes.                              ing of Julian with his daughter and Roderick;
under whose protection she comes at evening
" Upon a smooth grey stone sate Rod'rick there;  to the  Moorish camp and finds her father at
The wind above him stirr'd the hazel boughs,  his ablutions at the door of his tent, by the
And murm'ring at his feet the river ran.     his ablutions at the door of his tent, by the
And murm'ring at his feet the river ran.
He sate with folded arms and head declin'd   side of a clear mountain spring.  On her ap- ~Upon his breast, feeding on bitter thoughts,  proach, he clasps her in his arms with overTill Nature gave him in the exhausted sense  flowing love.
Of woe, a respite something like repose!
And then the quiet sound of gentle winds     Howe'er the inexorable will of Fate
And then the quiet sound of gentle winds      "' Thou hast not then forsaken me, my child.
And waters with their lulling consonance     Howe'er the inexorable will of Fate
Beguil'd him of himself. Of all within       May in the world which is to conme divide
Oblivious there he sate; sentient alone       Our everlasting destinies, in this
Of outward nature,.. of the whispering leaves    Thou wilt not, 0 my child, abandon me!'
That sooth'd his ear,.. the genial breath of heaven And then with deep and interrupted voice,
That fann'd his cheek,   the stream's perpetual Nor seeking to restrain hs copious tears,
flow,' My blessing be upon thy head!' he cried,
That, with its shadows and its glancing lights,  A father's blessing! though all faiths were false,
Dimples and thread-like motions infinite,    It should not lose its worth!... She lock'd her
For ever varying and yet still the same,     Around his neck, and gazing in his face   [hands
Like time toward eternity, ran by.           Through streaming tears, exclaim'd,' Oh never
Resting his head upon his Master's knees,            more,
Upon the bank beside him Theron lay."         Here or hereafter, never let us part!' "-p. 258.
pp. 205, 206.     He is at first offended with the attendance
In this quiet mood he is accosted by Sive- and priestly habit of Roderick, and breaks
rian, who entertains him with a long account out into some infidel taunts upon creeds and
of Pelayo's belief in the innocence, or com- churchmen; but is forced at length to honour
parative innocence, of their beloved Roderick; the firmness, the humility, and candour of
and of his own eager and anxious surmises this devoted Christian. He poses him, howthat he may still be alive.                  ever, in the course of their discussion, by
The Eighteenth Book, which is rather long rather an unlucky question.
and heavy, contains the account of Pelayo's
coronation. The best part of its perhaps, is " Thou preachest that all sins may be effac'd:
c soronation.  The  best part ofitpe   is Is there forgiveness, Christian, in thy creed  [thee,
the short sketch of his lady's affectionate For Rod'rick's crime?.. For Rod'rick, and for
exultation in his glory.  When she saw the  Count Julian!' said the Goth; and as he spake
preparations that announced this great event-  Trembled through every fibre of his frame,
"' I'her eyes    The gate of Heaven is open!' Julian threw
Brigten'd. The quicken'd action of the blood    His wrathful hand aloft, and cried,'Away!
ghten'd.  The  quicken'd action of theek blood    Earth could not hold us both; nor can one Heaven
Contain my deadliest enemy and me" " —p. 269.
Andon her lips there sate a smile, w ich spake
The honourable pride of perfect love;           This ethical dialogue is full of lofty sentiRejoicing, for her husband's sake, to share  ment and strong images; but is, on the whole
The lot he chose, the perils he defied,
The lofty fortune which their faith foresaw."  rather tedious and heavy.  One of the newest
p. 218.    pictures is the following; and the sweetest
Roderick bears a solemn part in the loft  scene, perhaps, that which closes the book
ceremonies of this important day; and, with  mmediately after:
a calm and resolute heart, beholds the alle-                 "'Methinks if ye would know
criance of his subjects transferred to his heroic How visitations of calamity
Kinsman.                                      Affect the pious soul,'tis shown ye there'
Look yonder at that cloud, which through the sky
The Nineteenth Book is occupied with an  Sailing alone, doth cross in her career.nterview between Roderick and his mother, The rolling moon! I watch'd it as it came




432                                      POETRY.
And deem'd the deep opaque would blot her beams; At- Auria in the massacre, this hour
But, melting like a wreath of snow, it hangs   I summon thee before the throne of God,
In folds of wavy silver round, and clothes     To answer for the innocent blood! This hour!
The orb with richer beauties than her own,     Moor, Miscreant, Murderer,Child of Hell! this horn
Then passing, leaves her in her light serene.'-  I summon thee to judgment!... In the name
" Thus having said, the pious suff'rer sate,  Of God! for Spain and Vengeance.
Beholding with fix'd eyes that lovely orb,     From voice to voice on either side it past
Which through the azure depth alone pursues    With rapid repetition,..'In the namP
Her course appointed; with indiff'rent beams   Of God! for Spain and Vengeance!' and fort wirtl
Shining upon the silent hills around,          On either side, along the whole defile,
And the dark tents of that unholy host,        The Asturians shouting, in the name of God,
Who, all unconscious of impending fate,        Set the whole ruin loose; huge trunks and stones,
Take their last slumber there. The camp is still! And loosen'd crags! Down, down they roll'd with
The fires have moulder'd; and the breeze which         rush,
The soft and snowy embers, just lays bare  [stirs And bound, and thund'ring force. Such was the fall
At times a red and evanescent light,           As when some city by the labouring earth
Or for a moment wakes a feeble flame.          Heav'd from its stroig foundations is cast down,
They by the fountain hear the stream below,    And all its dwelling 7towers, and palaces,
Whose murmurs, as the wind arose or fell,      In one wide desolation prostrated.
Fuller or fainter reach the ear attun'd.       From end to end of that long strait, the crash
And now the nightingale, not distant far,      Was heard continuous, and commixt with sounds
Began her solitary song; and pour'd            More dreadfuil, shrieks of horror and despair,
To the cold moon a richer, stronger strain     And death,.. the wild and agonising cry
Than that with which the lyric lark salutes    Of that whole host, in one destruction whelm'd."
The new-born day. Her deep and thrilling song                                  pp. 298, 299.
Seem'd with its piercing melody to reach
The soul; and in mysterious unison               The Twenty-fourth Book is full of tragical
Blend with all thoughts of gentleness and love.    matter, and is perhaps the most interesting of
Their hearts were open to the healing power    the whole piece.  A Moor, on the instigation
Of nature; and the splendour of the night,     of Orpas and Abulcacem, pierces Julian with
The flow of waters, and that sweetest lay      a mortal wound  w
Came to them like a copious evening dew,       a mortal wound; who thereupon exhorts his
Falling on vernal herbs which thirst for rain."  captains, already disgusted with the jealous
pp. 274-276. tyranny of the Infidel, to reioin the standard
The Twenty-second Book is fuller of busi- and the faith of their country; and then re.
The Twenty-seco ndetry.  The vindictive Orpas quests to be borne into a neighbouring church,
ness than of poetry. The vindictive Orpas where Florinda has been praying for his conpersuades the Moorish leader, that Julian  version.
meditates a defection from his cause; and, by
working on his suspicious spirit, obtains his      - " They rais'd him from the earth;
consent to his assassination on the first con- He, knitting as they lifted him his brow,
Drew in through open lips and teeth firm-clos'd
venient opportunity.                           His painful breath, and on his lance laid hand,
The Twenty-third Book recounts the car- Lest its long shaft should shake the mortal wound
nage and overthrow of the Moors in the Strait Gently his men with slow and steady step
of Covadonga. Deceived by false intelligence, Their suff'ring burthen bore; and in the Church,
and drunk with deceitful hope, they advance  Before the altar, laid him down, his head
up the long and precipitous defile, along the  Upon Florinda's knees."-pp. 307, 308.
cliffs and ridges of which Pelayo had not only    He then, on the solemn adjuration of Rostationed his men in ambush, but had piled  derick, renounces the bloody faith to which
hug-e stones and trunks of trees, ready to be  he had so long adhered; and reverently repushed over upon the ranks of the enemy in the  ceives at his hand the sacrament of reconcilie
lower pass. A soft summer mist hanging upon  ation and peace.  There is great feeling and
the side of the cliffs helps to conceal these  energy we think in what follows:preparations; and the whole line of the Infidel
s irretrievably engaged in the gulf, when                          "That dread office done,
Adosinea  appears on a rock in the van, andn  Count Julian with amazement saw the Priest
nhe van, and, Kneel down before him.' By the sacrament,
with her proud defiance, gives the word, which  Which we have here partaken!' Roderick cried,
is the signal for the assault.  The whole de-' In this most awful moment. By that hope,
scription is, as usual, a little overworked, but That holy faith which comforts thee in death,
is unquestionably striking and impressive.    Grant thy forgiveness, Julian, ere thou diest!
Behold the man who most hath injur'd thee!
" As the Moors      Rod'rick! the wretched Goth, the guilty cause
Advanc'd, the Chieftain in the van was seen,    Of all thy guilt,.. the unworthy instrument
Known by his arms, and from the crag a voice    Of thy redemption,.. kneels before thee here,
Pronounc'd his name,...'Alcahman, hoa! look  And prays to be forgiven!'
Alcahman!' As the floating mist drew up  [up!' Roderick!' exclaim'd
It had divided there, and open'd round         The dying Count,..' Roderick!'.. and from the
The Cross; part clinging to the rock beneath,  With violent effort, half he rais'd himself;  [floor,
Hov'ring and waving part in fleecy folds,       The spear hung heavy in his side; and pain
A canopy of silver, light condens'd            And weakness overcame him, that he fell
To shape and substance. In the midst there stood  Back on his daughter's lap.'O Death,' cried he,.
A female form, one hand upon the Cross,         Passing his hand across his cold damp brow,..
The other rais'd in menacing act. Below' Thou tamest the strong limb, and conquerest
Loose flow'd her raiment, but her breast was arm'd, The stubborn heart! But yesterday I said
And helmeted her head. The Moor turn'd pale,   One Heaven could not contain mine enemy
For on the walls of Auria he had seen          And me; and now I lift my dying voice
That well-known figure, and had well believ'd  To say, Forgive me, Lord! as I forgive    [eyes
She rested with the dead.'What, hoa!' she cried, Him who hath done the wrong!''.. He clos'd his
Alcahman! In the name of all who fell         A moment; then with sudden impulse cried,




SOUTHEY'S RODERICK.                                   433'Rod'rick, thy wife is dead!-the Church hath              "'In this,-an iall thiltgs else,'power                                 Pelayo answer'd, looking wistfully
To free thee from thy wows! The broken heart   Upon the Goth,'thy pleasure shall be done!'
Might yet be heal'd, the wrong redress'd, the throne Then Rod'rick saw that he was known-and turn'd
Rebuilt by that same hand which pull'd it down!  His head away in silence. But the old man
Ar.d these curst Africans... Oh for a month   Laid hold upon his bridle, and look'd up
Of that waste life which millions misbestow!.. "  In his master's face-weeping and silently!
pp. 311, 312.   Thereat the Goth with fervent pressure took
His hand, and bending down towards him, said,
Returning weakness then admonishes him'My good Siverian, go not thou this day
however, of the near approach of death; and  To war! I charge thee keep thyself from harm!
he begs the friendly hand of Roderick to cut Thou art past the age for combats; and with whom
short his pangs, by drawing forth the weapon  Herefter should thy mistress talk of me,
which clogs the wound in his side. He then  If thou wert gone?' -p. 330.
gives him  his hand in kindness-blesses and    He then borrows the defensive armour of this
kisses his heroic daughters &nd expires. The faithful servant; and taking a touching and
concluding lines are full onorce and tender- affectionate leave of him, vaults again on the
ness.                                        back of Orelio; and placing himself without
" Wthen from her father's body she arose,    explanation in the van of the army, leads them
HIer cheek was flush'd, and in her eyes there beam'd on to the instant assault.  The renegade leadA wilder brightness. On the Goth she gaz'd!    ers fall on all sides beneath his resistless
While urn'erneath the emotions of that hour  blows.
Exhausted life gave way!' O God!' she said,                 And in the heat of fight,
Lifting her hands,' thou hast restor'd me all,..    Re    And   in the heat of fight,
All. in one hour!'.... and around.his neck she Reoicing and forgetful of all else,
Allinonethrew                  [ydEvround en! -' necksheSet up his cry as he was wont in youth,    [well!
threw                         [ven!',ROD'RICK THE GOTH!'... his war-cry, known so
Her arms and cried,' My Roderick! mine in Hea-  R'R   THE GTH!'.. his varcry, known 
Groaning, he claspt her close! and in that act  Pelayo eagerly took up the word,
And agony her happy spirit fled!" —p. 313.   And shouted out his kinsman's name belov'd,'Rod'rick the Goth! Rod'rick and Victory!
The Last Book describes the recognition  Rod'rickand Vengeance!' Odoargave it forth;
and exploits of Roderick in the last of his bat- Urban repeated it; and through his ranks
Count Pedro sent the cry. Not from the field
ties. After the revolt of Julian's army, Orpas  Of his great victory, when Witiza fell,
by whose counsels it had been chiefly occa- With louder acclamations had that name
sioned, is sent forward by the Moorish leader, Been borne abroad upon the winds of heaven."
to try to win them  back; and advances in                -" O'er the field it spread,
front of the line. demanding a parley, mount- All hearts and tongues uniting in the cry;
ed on the beautiful Orelio, the famous war Mountains, and rocks, and vales re-echo'd round;
horse of Roderick, who, roused at that sight, And he rejoicing in his strength rode on, [smote,
obtains leave firom Pelayo to give the renegade  Laying on the Moors with that good sword; and
his an er; and after pouring   t   n him  And overthrew, and scatter'd, and destroy'd,
s ansAer; and after pouring out uon him  And trampled down! and still at every blow
some words of abuse and scorn, seizes the Exultingly he sent the war-cry forth.
reins of his trusty steed; and' Rod'rick the Goth! Rod'rick and Victory!
"' How now,' he cried,   Rod'rick and Vengeance!' "-pp. 334, 335.
orelio! old companion,.. my good horse!'..  The carnage at length is over, and the field
Off with this recreant burthen!'... And with that is won!-but where is he to whose name and
He rais'd his hand, and rear'd, and back'd the steed, example the victory is owing?
To that remember'd voice and arm of power
Obedient. Down the helpless traitor fell,                    "Upon the banks
Violently thrown; and Roderick over him,     Of Sella was Orelio found; his legs
Thrice led, with just and unrelenting hand,  And flanks incarnadin'd, his poitral smear'd
The trampling hoofs.'Go, join Witiza now,    With froth, and foam, and gore, his silver mane
Where he lies howling,' the avenger cried,   Sprinkled with blood, which hung on every hair,' And tell him Roderick sent thee!' "-pp. 318, 319. Aspers'd like dew-drops: trembling there he stood
From the toil of battle; and at times sent forth
He then vaults upon the noble horse; and  His tremulous voice far-echoing loud and shrill;
fitting Count Julian's sword to his grasp, rushes A frequent anxious cry, with which he seem'd
in the van of the Christian army into the thick  To call the master whom he lov'd so well,
array of the Infidel, —where, unarmed as he And who had thus again forsaken him.
is, and clothed in his penitential robes of Siverian's helm and cuirass on the grass
waving black,  he scatters death and terror Lay near; and Julian's sword, its hilt and chain
wang black, he scatters death and terror Clotted with blood! But where was he whose hand
around him, and cuts his way clean through  Had wielded it so well that glorious day?...
the whole host of his opponents. He there
the whole host of his opponents. He there Days, months, and years, and generations pass'd,
descries the army of Pelayo advancing to co- And centuries held their course, before, far off
operate; and as he rides up to them with his Within a hermitage near Viseu's walls,
wonted royal air and gesture, and on his well- A humble Tomb was found, which bore inscrib'd
known steed of royalty, both the King and  In ancient characters, King Rod'rick's name!"
Siverian are instantaneously struck with the pp. 339, 340.
apparition; and marvel that the weeds of    These copious extracts must have settled
penitence should so long have concealed their our readers' opinion of this poem; and though
sovereign. Roderick, unconscious of this re- they are certainly taken from the better parts
cognition, briefly informs them  of what has of it, we have no wish to disturb the forcible
befallen, and requests the honourable rites of impression which they must have been the
Christian sepulture for the unfortunate Julian  means of producing.  Its chief fault undoubtand his daughter,   28                        edly is the monotony of its tragic and solemrit




143                                   POETRY.
tone-the perpetual gloom with which all its pathos, is still too much speckled with strange
scenes are overcast-and the tediousness with words; which whether they are old or new,
which some of them are developed.  There are not English at the present day-and we
are many dull passages, in short, and a con- hope never will become so. What use or orsiderable quantity of heavy reading-some nament does Mr. Southey expect to derive for
silliness, and a good deal of affectation. But his poetry from such words as avid and aureate,
the beauties, upon the whole, preponderate; — and auriphrygiate? or leman and weedery, freand these. we hope, speak for themselves in quentage and youthhead, and twenty more as
the passages we have already extracted.    pedantic and affected l What good is there
The versification is smooth and melodious, either, we should like to know, in talking of
though too uniformly drawn out into long and  c"oaken galilees," or "incarnadined poitrals,"
linked sweetness. The diction is as usual or "all-able Providence," and such other
more remarkable for copiousness than force; — points of learning — If poetry is intended for
and though less defaced than formerly with general delight, ought not its language to be
phrases of affected simplicity and infantine generally intelliF l.
(Pcccmbcr, 181g.)
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto the Third: By LORDBYRON. 8vo. pp. 79. London: 1816.
The Prisoner of Chillon, and other Poems. By LORD BYRON. 8vo. pp.'60. London: 1816.*
IF the finest poetry be that which leaves strong emotion-the fire and air alone of our
the deepest impression on the minds of its human elements.
readers-and this is not the worst test of its   In this respect, and in his general notion of
excellence-Lord Byron, we think, must be the end and the means of poetry, we have
allowed to take       ence of all his distin- sometimes thought that his views fell more
hgulsnet cantemporaries, He has not the v'- in with those of the Lake poets, than of any
ner7 1 Sot-'~iS   n        te ehcacy of Campbell- other existing party in the poetical commonnor the absolute truth of Crabbe-nor the wealth: And, in some of his later productions
polished sparkling of Moore; but in force of especially, it is impossible not2 to be struck
diction, and inextinguishable'energy of senti- with his occasional approaches to the style
ment, he clearlyv surpasses them all. "Words and manner of this class of  riters.  Lord
that breathe, and thoughts that burne are not Byron, however, it should be observed, like:
merely the ornaments, but the common staple all other persons of a quick sense of beauty,of his poetry; and he is not inspired or im- and sure enough of their own originality to
pressive only in some happy passages, but be in no fear of paltry imputations, id a great
through the whole body and tissue of his mimic of styles and manners, and a great
composition. It was an unavoidable condition, lorrower of external character. He and Scott,
perhaps; of this higher excellen-f, that his accordingly, are full of imititiorw of all the
scene should be narrow, and his persons few.'writers from whom  they have ever derived
To compass such ends as he had in view, it gratification; and the two most original writers
was necessary to reject all ordinary agents, of the age might appear, to superficial obh
and all trivial combinations.  He could not servers, to be the most deeply indebted to
possibly be amusing, or ingenious, or playful; their predecessors. In this particular instance,
or hope to maintain the requisite-pitch of in- we have no fault to find with Lord'Byron:
terest by the recitation of sprightly adventures, Fpr undoubtedjly].heflfitas  p.sageqs of Wordsor the opposition of common characters. To worth and Southey have in them wherewithal
produce great effects, ii short, he felt that it to lend an impulse to the utmost ambition ofS
was necessary to deal only With the greater rival genius; and their diction and manner oft
passions —with the,exalta toiing  writing is frequently both striking and original.
fWflafi hd the errors of a lofty intellect-with But we must say, that it would afford us still
the pride, the terrors, and the agonies of greater pleasure to find these tuneful'gentlemen returning the compliment which Lord
* I have already said so much of Lord Byron with Byron has here paid to their talents; and..eference to his Dramatic productions, that I cannot forming themselves on the model rather of.Aow afford to republish more than one other paper his imitations, than of their own originals.on the subject of his poetry in general: And I se- In those imitations they *ill find that, thougbh
sect this, rather because it refers to a greater variety he is sometimes abundantly mystil, he.of these compositions, than because it deals with                                   a b
such as are either absolutely the best, or the most never; or at least very rarely, inulges in abcharacteristic of his genius. The truth is, however, solute nonsense-never ftakes his lofty flights
that all his writings are characteristic; and lead, upon mean or ridiculous occasions —and,
pretty much alike, to those views of the dark and above all, never dilutes' his strong' concepthe bright parts of his nature, which have led me, I tions, and magnificent imaginations, with a
fear (though almosm irresistibly) into observations flood.  On the con.
more personal to the character of the author, than flr-  a                  On the con
bshould generally be permitted to a mere literary trary, he is, of all livingwriters, the most
uoa           — o   coziCSe and condensed  and, we-would fain




LORD BYRON'S POETRY.                               435
sope, may go far by his example, to redeem  by one character-not only in arl the acts of
the great reproach of our modern literature-  each several drama, but in all the different
its intolerable prolixity and redundcance. In dramas of the series; —and, grand and imhis nervous-anidman-hiInes, we  find no elab- pressive as it is, we feel at last that these very
orate amplification of common sentiments-  qualities make some relief more indispensable,
no ostentatious polishing of pretty expres- and oppress the spirits of ordinary mortals
sions; and we really think that the brilliant with too deep an impression of awe and resuccess which has rewarded his disdain of pulsion. There is too much guilt in short, and
those paltry artifices, should put to shame for too much gloom, in the leading character: —!
ever that puling and self-admiring race, who and though it be a fine thing to gaze, now
can live through half a volume on the stock and then, on stormy seas, and thunder-shaken
of a single thought, and expati-:t-eover divers mountains, we should prefer passing our days
fair quarto pages with the -detils of one te- in sheltered valleys, and by the murmur of
dius description. In Lord Byron, on the con- calmer waters. a
trary, we have a perpetstam hick-    We are aware that these metaphors may be.
coming fancies-an ete    spring, of fresh- turned against us-.and that, without metablowft-iriages, which seem called into exist- phor, it may be said that men do not pass
ence by the sudden flash of those glowing their days in reading poetry —and that, as they
thoughts and overwhelming emotions, that may look into Lord Byron only about as often
struggle for expression through the whole flow  as they look abroad upon tempests, they have
of his poetry-and impart to a diction that is no more reason to complain of him for being
often abrupt and irregular, a force and a charm  grand and gloomy, than to complain of the
which frequently realise all that is said of in- same qualities in the glaciers and volcanoes
spiration.                                which they go so far to visit. Painters, too,
With all these undoubted claims to our it may be said, have often gained great repuadmiration, however, it is impossible to deny tation by their representations of tigers and
that the noble author before us has still some- others ferocious animals, or of caverns and
thing to learn, and a good deal to correct. He banditti-and poets should be allowed, withis frequently abril.  and careless and some- out reproach, to indulge in analogous exertimes obscure. There are marks, occasion- cises. We are far from thinking that there is
ally, of Ie'6ti and straining after an emphasis, no weight in these considerations; and feel
which' is generally    neous; and, above how plausibly it may be said, that we have
an, there is far to     a monotony in the,no better reason for a great part of our commoral colouring of is pictures, and too much plaint, thari that an author, to whom we age
repetition of the same sentiments and naxims. already very greatly indebted,.as chosenw,
He delights too exclusively in the delineation rather to please himself, than us, in the uie/,
of(a certain morbid exaltation of character and he makes of his talents. 
feeTin-a sort of demoniacal sublimity, not   This, no doubt, seem~n both unreasonable
withoilt some traits of the ruined Archangel. and ungrateful: But it is nevertheless true
He is haunted almost perpetually with the that a public benefactor becomes a debtor to
image of a being feeding and fed upon by the public; and is, in some degree, responsiviolent passions, and the recollections of the ble for the employment of those gifts which
catastrophes they have occasioned: And, seem to be conferred upon him, not merely
though worn out by their past indulgence, for his own delight, but for the delight and
unable to sustain the burden of an existence improvement of his fellows through all genewhich they do not continue to animates-full rations.  Independent of this, however, we
of pride, and revenge, and obduracy-Disdain- think there is a reply to the apology. A great,
ing life and death, and mankind andhimself living poet is not like a distant volcano, or an
-and trampling, in his scorn, not oJny upon occasional tempest. He is a volcano in the
the falsehood and formality of polished life, heart of our land, and a cloud that hangs over
but upon its tame virtues and slavish devo- our dwellings; and we have some reason to
tion: Yet envying, by fits, the very beings he complain, if, instead'of genial wavnh  and
despises, and melting into mere sofIness and grateful shade, he voluntarily darkens and
compassion, when the helplessness of child- inflames our atrnosphee with perppetual fierryc
hood or the frailty of woman make an appeal explosions and pitchy va ours.  _ori dByron s.
to his generosity. Such is the person with poetry,  in short, is too a'i active and too
whom we are called'upon almost exclusively famous to lie dormant or inoperative; and,
to sympathise in all the greater productions therefore if it produce any painful or perni
of this distinguished writer:-InChilde Harold cious effects, there will be' murmurs, and
-in the Corsa-in-:ara-in the Siege of ought to be suggestions of alteration. Now
Corinth-in Parisina, and in most of the though an artist may draw fighting tigers and
smaller pieces.                           hungry lions in as lively and natural a way as
It is impossible to represent such a charac- he can, without giving any encouragement to
ter better than Lord Byron has done in all human ferocity, or even much alarm to human
these productions-or indeed to represent any'fear, the case is somewhat diffetent, when a
thing more terrible inits anger, or more attrac- poet represents men with tiger-like dispositive in its relenting. In point of effect we tions:-and yet more so, when 4e exhausts'
readit   admit th.at. ozaI RA       By' the resources of his genius to maJle this terriMore"   oeal' or-pre:-But it is reaiy ble being interesting and attractive, and to
~o much tiV id thes scene perpetually filled represent all the lofty virtues as the natural




436                                 Ot)ETRY.
allies of his ferocity. It is still worse when however, to dwell upon observations so gene.
he proceeds to show, that all these precious ral-and we shall probably have better meane
gifts of dauntless courage, strong affection. of illustrating these remarks, if they are really
and high imagination, are not only akin to well founded, when we come to speak of the
guilt, but the parents of misery; —and that particular publications by which they have
those only have any chance of tranquillity or now been suggested.
happiness in this world, whom it is the object   We had the good fortune, we believe, to be
of his poetry to make us shun and despise.   among the first who proclaimed the rising of
These, it appears to us, are not merely a new luminary, on the appearance of Childe
errors in taste, but perveraisa m.iqort2y; Harold on the poetical horizon,-and we purand, as a great poet is necessarily a moral sued his course with due attention through
teacher, and gives forth his ethical lessons, several of the constellations. If we have
in general with far more effect and authority lately omitted to record his progress with the
than any of his graver brethren, he is peculi- same accuracy       no means because  e -
arly liable to the censures reserved for those have regarded?     more indifference, or
who turn the means of improvement to pur- supposed that it      be less interesting to
poses of corruption.                      the public-but  ause it was so extremely.
It may no doubt be said, that poetry in gene- conspicuous as   longer to require the noral tends less to the useful than the splendid tices of an officl  observer. In general, we
qualities of our natureuthat a character po- do not think it necessary, nor indeed quite
ptically good has long been distinguished from  fair, to oppress our readets with an account
9ne that is morally so-and that, ever since of works, which are as well known to them'the time of Achilles. our sympathies, on such as to ourselves; or with a repetition of senpccasions, have been chiefly ngrossed by per- timents in which all the world is agreed.
sons whose deportment is by no means ex- Wherever, a work, therefore, is very popular,
emplary; and who in many points approach and where the general opinion of its merits
to the temperament of Lord Byron's ideal appears to be substantially right, we think
/hero. There is some truth in this suggestion ou:selves at liberty to leave it out of our
also. But other poets, in the first place, do chronicle, without incurring the censure of
not allow their favourites so outrageous a mo- ne'lect or inattention. A very rigorous ap/nopoly of the glory and interest of the piece plication of this maxim might have saved our
-— and sin less therefore against the laws readers the trouble    ding what we now
either of poetical or distributive justice. In write-and, to conf9 _truth, we write it
the second place, their heroes are not, gene- iather to gratify ourselves, than with the hope
rally, either so bad or so good as Lord Byron's oe  giving them much information. At the
-and do not indeed very much exceed the. same time, some short notice of the progress
standard of truth and nature, in either of the of such a writer ought, perhaps, to appear in
extremes. His, however. are as monstrous his contemporary joumals, as a tribute due
adrd unnatural as centaurs, and hippogriffs-  to his eminence; —,and a zealous critic can
and must ever figure in the eye of sober rea- scarcely set about examining the merits of
son as so many bright and hateful impossi- any work, or the nature of its reception by
bilities. But the most important distinction the public, without speedily discovering very
is, that the other poets who deal in peccant urgent cause for his admonitions, both to the
hieroes, neither feer nor express that ardent author and his admirers.'affection for them, which is visible in the   Our last particular account was of the Cor1whole of this author's delineations; but mere- sair;-and though from that time to the publy make use of them as necessary agents in lication of the pieces, the titles of which we
the extraordinary adventures they have to have prefixed, the noble author has produced
detail, and persons whose mingled vices and as much poetry as would have made the forvirtues are requisite to bring about the catas- tune of any other person, we can afford to
trophe of their story. In Lord Byron, how- take but little notice of those intermediate
ever, the interest of the story, where there performances; which have already passed
happens to be one, which is not always the their ordeal with this generatioj, and are
case, is uniformly postponed to that of the fairly committed to the final judgment of poscharacter itself-into which he enters so eep- terity. Some slight reference to them  howly, and with so extraordinary a fondness, that ever, may be proper, both to mark the prohe generally continues to speak in its lan- gress of the author's views, and the history
guage, after it has been dismissed from the of his fame.
stage; and to inculcate, on his own authority,   LARA was obviously the sequel of the Corthe same sentiments which had been pre- sair-and maintained, in general, the same
viously recommended by its example. We tone of deep interest, and lofty feeling;do not consider it as unfair, therefore, to say though the disappearance of Medora from the,that Lord Byron appears to us to be the zeal- scene deprives it of the enchanting sweetous apostle of a certain fierce and magnificentI ness, by which its terrors were there redeemed,
Aimsanthropy; which has already saddened and make the hero on the whole iess captihis poetry with too deep a shade, and not vating. The character of Lara, too, is yathei
only led to a great misapplication of great too laboriously finished, and his noctilrnal entalents. but contributed to render popular some counter with the apparition is worked up too
very false estimates of the constituents of hu- ostentatiously. There is infinite beauty in
man happiness and merit. It is irksome, the sketch of the dark page —and in many of




LORD BYRON'S POETRY.                                     483
the moral or general reflections which are'It beats!' Away, thou dreamer! he is gone!
interspersed with the narrative.  The death  It once was Lara which thou look'st upon.
uf Lara, however, is by far the finest pas- "He gaz'd, as if not yet had pass'd away
sage in the poem, and is fully equal to any  The haughty spirit of that humble clay;
thing else which the author has ever written. And those around have rous'd him from his trance
Though it is not under our immediate cog- But cannot tear from thence his fixed glance;
nisance, we cannot resist the temptation of And when, in raising him from where he bore
transcribing the greater part of the passage-   Within his arms the form that felt no more,
itranscribing the            greal part of the event, He saw the head his breast would still sustain,
in which the physical horror of the event, Roll down, like earth to earth, upon the plain!
though described with a terrible force and  He did not dash himself thereby; nor tear
fidelity, is both relieved and enhanced by the  The glossy tendrils of his raven hair,
beautiful pictures of mental energy and re- But strove to stand and gaze; but reel'd and fell,
deeming affection with which it is combined. Scarce breathing more than that he lov'd so well!
Oar readers will recollect, that this gloomy  Than that He lov'd! Oh! never yet beneath
Or reaers will recollec  that this  gloomy  The breast of lfan such trusty love may breathe!
and darinlg chief was mortally wounded in  That trying moment hath at once reveal'd
battle, and led out of it, almost insensible, by  The secret, long and yet but half-conceal'd;
that sad and lovely page, whom  no danger In baling to revive that lifeless breast,
could ever separate from his side. On his re-Its grefseem'd ended, but the sex confest 
treat, slaughter and desolation falls on his And life rturn'd, and Kaled felt no shame1-7~~~~ 1                          ~WrIaNhat now to her was Womanhood or Fame?'
disheartened followers; and the poet turns
from the scene of disorder-'            We must stop here; —but the whole sequel
of the poem is written with equal vigour and
"Beneath a lime, remoter from the scene,       feeling; and may be put in competition Mith
Where but for him that strife had never been,
A breathing butvted warrior lay:   any thing that poetry has ever produced, in'Twas Lara bleeding fast from life away!       point either of pathos or energy.
His follower once, and now his only guide,       The SIEGE OF CORINTH is next in the order
Kneels Kaled watchful o'er his welling side,   of time; and though written, perhaps, with
And with his scarf would staunch the tides that rush, too visible a striving after effect, and not very
With each convulsion, in a blacker gush;       well harmonised in all its parts, we cannot
And then, as his faint breathing waxes low,    help regarding it as a magnificent composiIn feebler, not less fatal tricklings flow:
He scarce can speak; but motions him'tis vain,   tion.  There is less misanthropy in it thafi
And merely adds another throb to pain.         in any of the rest; and the interest is rpade
He clasps the hand that pang which would assuage, up of alternate representations of soft and
And sadly smiles his thanks to that dark page  solemn scenes and emotions-and of the tuWho nothing fears, nor feels, nor heeds, nor sees, mult and ter
Save that damp brow which rests upon his knees;             oste   and intoxication of war.
Save that pale aspect, where the eye, though dim,  These opposite pictures are perhaps too vioHeld all the light that shone on earth for him!  lently  contrasted, and, in some parts, too
harshly coloured; but they are in general
"The foe arrives, who long had search'd the field,,                       e         
Their triumph nought till Lara too should yield;   exquisitely designed, and executed with the
They would remove him; but they see'twere vain, utmost spirit and energy. What, for inAnd he regards them with a calm disdaini,      stance, can be finer than the following night.
That rose to reconcile him with his fate,      piece.  The renegade had left his tent in
And that escape to death from living hate:     moody musing. the night before the.final
And Otho comes, and leaping from his steed,     s       on the Christian walls.
Looks on the bleeding foe that made him bleed,
And questions of his state: He answers not;      "'Tis midnight! On the mountain's brown
Scarce glances on him as on one forgot,            The cold, round moon shines deeply down;
And turns to Kaled:-each remaining word,           Blue roll the waters; blue the sky
They understood not, if distinctly heard;          Spreads like an ocean hung on high,
His dying tones are in that other tongue,    [&c.  Bespanlgled with those isles of light,
To which some strange remembrance wildly clung,"   So wildly, spiritually bright;
Their words though faint were many-from the tone   Who ever gaz'd upon them shining,
Their import those who heard could judge alone;    And turn'd to earth without repining,
From this, you might hale deem'd young Kaled's     Nor wish'd for wings to flee away,
death                                      And mix with their eternal ray?
More near than Lara's, by his voice and breath;    The waves on either shore lay there,
3o sad, so deep, and hesitating broke              Calm, clear, and azure as the air;
The accents his scarce-moving pale lips spoke;          scarce their foam the pebbles shook,
But Lara's voice though low, at first was clear    BiTt murmur'd meekly as the brook.
And calm, till murm'ring death gasp'd hoarsely     The winds were pillow'd on the waves;
But from his visage little could we guess,   near:  The banners droop'd along their staves,
And, as they fell around them furlin%
So unrepentant, dark, and passionless,             And, as they fell aroundt cre    furling,
Save that when struggling nearer to his last,      Above them shone the crescent curling;
Upon that page his eye was kindly cast;            And  that deep silence was unbroke,
And once as Kaled's answ'ring accents ceast,Save where the watch his sig nal spoke
Rose Lara's hand, and pointed to the East.-       Save where the steed neigh'd oft and shrill,
And echo answer'd from the hill,
" But gasping heav'd the breath that Lara drew,    And the wide hum of that wild host
And dull the film along his dim eye grew;   [o'er  Rustled like leaves from coast to coast,
flis limbs stretch'd flutt'ring, and his head dropp'd  As rose the Muezzin's voice in air
The weak, yet still untiring knee that bore!       In midnight call to wonted prayer."He press'd the hand he held upon his heart-      The transition to the bustle and fury of rte
[t beats no more! but Kaled will not part
With the cold grasp! but feels, and feels in vain,  morning muster, as well as the moving picture
For that faint throb which answers not again.  of the barbaric host, is eoually admirable.




438                                       POETRY.
"The night is past, and shines the sun         before the face of his unhappy laiamoul
As if that morlt were a jocund one.            There is too much of horror, perhaps, in thi
Lightly and brightly breaks away               circumstances; but the writing is beautifu
The Morning fromn her mantle grey,hout; a   the whole wrapped in a i
And the Noon will look on a sultry day!        throughout; and the whole wrapped in a rich
Hark to the trump, and the drum,               and redundant veil of poetry, where every
And the mournful sound of the barb'rous horn,    thing breathes the pure essence of genius and
And the flap of the banners, that flit as they're  sensibility.  The opening verses, though soft
borne,                                 a    v
borne,                                 and voluptuoT — re_-fi-he    with the same
And the neigh of the steed, and the multitude's shade oluptu1ou   laeiT-ged  with the same
hum,'shade of sorrow which gives its character and
And the clash, and the shout,'They come, they harmony to the whole poem.
come!'                                " It is the hour when from the boughs,
The horsetails are pluck'd from the ground, and the   The nightingale's high note is heard;
sword                                    It is the hour when lovers' vows   a
From its sheath! and they form-and but wait for   Seem sweet in every whisper'd word;
the word.                                And gentle winds, and waters near,
The steeds are all bridled, and snort to the rein;  Make music to the lonely ear!
Curv'd is each neck, and flowing each mane;      Each flower the dews have lightly wet;
White is the foam of their champ on the bit:     And in the sky the stars are met,
The spears are uplifted; the matches are lit;    And on the wave is deeper blue,
The cannon are pointed, and ready to roar,       And on the leaf a browner hue,
And crush the wall they have crumbled before!    And in the heaven that clear obscure,
Forms in his phalanx each Janizar;               So softly dark, and darkly pure,
Alp at their head; his right arm is bare;        Which follows the decline of day,
So is the blade of his scimitar!                As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
The khan and the pachas are all at their post;   But it is not to list to the waterfall
The vizier himself at the head of' the host.     That Parisina leaves her hall, &c.
CWhen the culverin's signal is fir'd, then on!
Leave not in Corinth a living one-                 "With many a ling'ring look they leave
A priest at her altars, a chief in her halls,    The spot of' guilty gladness past!
A hearth in her mansions, a stone on her walls!  And though they hope and vow, they grieve,
God and the Prophet!-Alla Hu!                   As if that parting were the last.
Up to the skies with that wild halloo!          The frequent sigh-the long embrace"'IAs the *wolves, that headlong go            The lip that there would cling for ever,
On the stately buffalo,                          While gleams on Parisina's face
Thouigh with fiery eyes and anary roar,          The. Heaven she fears will not forgive her!
And hoofs that stamp, and horns that gore,       As ifeach calmly conscious star
He tramples on earth, or tosses on high          Beheld her frailty from afar."
The foremost, who rush on his strength but to die:   The arraignment and condemnation of the
Thus against the wvall they went,              guilty pair, with the bold, high-toned, and yet
Thus the first were backward bent'
Thus the first were backtward ilbent!,         temperate defence of the son, are managed
Mlany a bosom, sheath'd in brass,
Strew'd the earth like broken glass,           with admirable talent; and yet are less touchShiver'd by the shot, that tore                ing than the mute despa'ir of the fallen beauty,
The ground whereon they mov'd no more:         who stands in speechless agony beside him.
Even as they fell, in files they lay,
Like the mower's grass at the close of day,      "Those lids o'er which the violet veinWhen his work is done on the levell'd plain;       Wandering, leaves a tender stain.
Such' was-the tall of the foremost slain!          Shining through the smoothest white
As the spring-tides, with heavy plash,             That e'er did softest kiss inviteFrom the cliffs invading dash                      Now seem'd with hot and livid glow
hiuae fragments, sapp'd by the ceaseless flow,     To press, not shade, the orbs below;
T'ill white and thundering down they go, —         Which glance so heavily, and fill,
Lie the avalancei's snow                           As tear on tear grows gath'ring still.On the Alpine vales below;                       " Nor once did those sweet eyelids close,
Thus at length, outbreath'd and worn,              Or shade the glance o'er which they rose,
Corinth's sons were downward borne                 But round their orbs of deepest blue
By the long, and oft renew'd                       The circling white dilated grewCharge of the MgsTem multitude!                   And there with glassy gaze she stood
In firmness they stood, and in masses they fell,   As ice were in her curdled blood;
Heap'd, by the host of the infidel,                But every now and then a tear
Hand to hand, and foot to foot:                    So large and slowly gather'd, slid
Nothing there, save death, was mute;               From the long dark fringe of that fair lid,
Stroke, and thrust, and flash, and cry             It was a thing to see, not hear!
For quarter, or for victory!                      To speak she thought-the imperfect note
But the rampart is won, and the spoil begun,       Was chok'd within her swelling throat,
And all but the after-carnage done.                Yet seem'd in that low hollow groan
Shriller shrieks now mingling come                 Her whole heart gushing in the tone.
From within the plunder'd dome:                    It ceas'd-again she thought to speak
Hark to the haste of flying feet!                 Then burst her voice in one long shriek,
That splash in the blood of the slippery street!"  And to the earth she fell, like stone
PARISINA is of a different character. There      Or statue from its base o'erthrown."
i! no tumult or stir in this piece. It is all sad-    The grand part of this poem, however, is
ness, and pity, and terror.  The story is told  that which describes the execution of the
in half a sentence.  The Prince of Est6 has rival son; and in which, though there is no
married a lady who was originally destined  pomp, either of language or of sentiment, and
for his favourite natural son.  He discovers a every thing, on the contrary, is conceived and
criminal attachment between them; and puts expressed with studied simplicity and direct.
the issue and the invader of his bed to death, ness, there is a spirit of pathos and poetry te




LORD BYRON'S POETRY.                                   43f
wnluch it would nft,be easy to find many pa- raised an inferior artist to tLte very summit of,.llels.                                     distinction.
The Convent bells are ringingl!           - Of the verses entitled, "Fare thee well" —
But mournfully and slow;                  and some others of a similar character, we
In the grey square turret swinging,         shall say nothing but that, in spite of their
With a deep sound, to and fro!            beauty, it is painful to read them-and infiIeavily to the heart they go!               nitely to be regretted that they should have
Hark! the hymn is singing!-             been given to the public. It would be a piece
The song for the dead below,
Or the living who shortly shall be so!   of idle affectatito consider them  as mere
For a departing Being's soul        [knoll: effusions of fance or to pretend ignorance of
The death-hymn peals and the hollow  bells the subjects to which they relate-and with
He is near his mortal goal;                the knowledge which all the world has of
Kneeling at the Friar's knee;               these subjects, we must say, that not even
Sad to hear —and piteous to see!Sad to h   hear-and piteolous to see!       the example of Lord Byron, himself; can perWith the block before and the guards around-  suade us that they are fit for public discussion.
While the crowd in a speechless circle gather    We come, therefore, to the consideration of
To see the Son fall by the doom of the Father!  thie noble author's most recent publications.
" It is a lovely hour as yet
Before the summer sun shall set,              The most considerable of these, is the Third
Which rose upon that heavy day,             Canto of Childe Harold; a work which has
And mock'd it with his steadiest ray;       the disadvanrage of all continuations in adAnd his evening beams are shed             the dsadaof   all cont               in   adFull on Hugo's fated head!                mitting of little absolute novelty in the plan
As his last confession pouring              of the work or the cast of its character, and
To the monk, his doom deploring             must, besides, remind all Lord Byron's readers
In penitential holiness,                    of the extraordinary effect produced by the
He bends to hear his accents bliss             t
With absolution suchis accents bliss        sudden blazing forth of his genius, upon their
Wipe  our mortal stains away!               first introduction to that title.  In spite of all
That high sun on his head did glisten      this, however, we are persuaded that this
As he there did bow and listen!            Third Part of the poem will not be pronounced
And the rings of chesnut hair               inferior to either of the former; and, we think,
Curled half-down his neck so bare;          will probably berranked above them by those
But brighter still the beam was thrown-     who have been most delighted with the whole.
Upon the axe which near him shone
With a clear and ghastly glitter!-         The great success of this singular production,
Oh! that parting hour was bitter!         indeed, has always appeared to us an extraorEven the stern stood chill'd with awe:      dinary proof of its merits; for, with all its
Dark the crime, and just the law-           genius, it does not belong to a sort of poetry
Yet the p  arting prayers arthey saw.id and over  that rises easily to popularity.-It has no story
"The parting prayers are said and over
Of that false son-and daring lover!        br action-very little variety of characterHis beads and sins are all recounted;       and a great deal of reasoning and reflection
His hours to their last minute mounted-     of no very attractive tenor. It is substantiallyHis mantling cloak before was stripp'd,     a contemplative and ethical work, diversified
His bright brown locks must now he clipp'd!    with fine description, and adorned or over-'Tis done-all closely are they shornThe vest which till this moment worn-       shaded by the perpetual presence of one em-r
The scarf which Parisina gave-            phatic person, who is sometimes the author,
Must not adorn him to the grave.            and sometimes the object, of the reflections
Even that must now be thrown aside,         on which the interest is chiefly rested.  It
And o'er his eyes the kerchief tied;        required, no doubt, great force of writing, and,
But no-that last indignity                  a decided tone of originality to recommend a
Shall ne'er approach his haughty eye.'No!-yours my forfeit blood and breath-    performance of this sort so powerfully as this
These hands are chain'd-but let me die      has been recommended to public notice and
At least with an unshackled eye-            admiration-and those high characteristics
Strike!'-and, as the word he said,         belong perhaps still more eminently to the
Upon the block he bow'd his head;           part that is now before us, than to any of the
These thrike    last accents Hugoll the stroke:  former. There is the same stem  and lofty'Strike!'-and flashing fell the stroke!-  dm
Roll'd the head-and, gushing, sunk          disdain of mankind, and their ordinary purBack the stain'd and heaving trunk,         suits and enjoyments; with the same bright
In the dust,-which each deep vein           gaze on nature, and the same magic power
Slak'd with its ensanguin'd rain!          of giving interest and effect to her delineaHis eyes and lips a moment quiver,          tions-but mixed up, we think, with deeper
Convuls'd and quick-then fix for ever."
and more matured reflections, and a more inOf the Hebrew melodies-the Ode to Na- tense sensibility to all that is grand or lovely
pd.eon, and some other smaller pieces that in the external world.-Harold, in short, is
appeared about the same time, we shall not somewhat older since he last appeared upon
now  stop to say anything.  They are ob- the scene-and while the vigour of his intelviously inferior to the works we have been  lect has been confirmed, and his confidence
noticing, and are about to notice, both in in his own opinions increased, his mind has
general interest, and in power of poetry-  also become more sensitive; and his misanthough some of them, and the Hebrew melo- thropy, thus softened over by habits of calmer
dies especially, display a skill in versification, contemplation, appears less active and impa.
and a mastery in diction, which would have tient, even dilthough more deeply rooted than




440                                      POETRY.
before.  Undoubtedly the finest parts of the    Forgetfulness around me —it shall seem,
poem before us, are those which thus embody  To me, though to none else, a not ungrateft4
the weight of his moral sentiments; or dis-            theme.
close the lofty sympathy which binds the    After a good deal more in the same strain,
despiser of Man to the glorious aspects of he proceeds,
Nature. It is in these, we think, thai the great
attractions of the work consist, and the strength  " Yet must I think less wildly:-I have thought
of the author's genius is seen.  The narrative    Too long and darkly; till my brain became
In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought,
and mere description arenf far inferior in-    n  whir      lin g guof hantasy and o'erwrought,
terest.  Withreferenceto     s  nt a    A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame:
terest. With reference tole sentiments and  i And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame,
opinions, however, which thus give its dis-   My springs of life were poison'd."tinguishing character to the piece, we must "Something too much of this:-but now'tis past,
say, that it seems no longer possible to ascribe    And the spell closes with its silent seal!
them to the ideal person whose name it bears, Long absent HAROLD re-appears at last."
or to any other than the author himself.-        The character and feelings of this unjoyous
Lord Byron, we think, has formerly complain- personage are then depicted with great force
ed of those who identified him with his hero, and fondness; —and at last he is placed upon
or supposed that Harold was but the expositor the plain of Waterloo.
of his own feelings and opinions; —and in
noticing the former portions of the work, we  "In'pride of place' where late the Eagle flew,.itc unbecing theformerportions givf    ay  ouwe-   Then tore with bloody talon the rent plain,
thought it unbecoming to give any counte-   Pierc'd by the shaft ofbanded nations through!" —
vance to such a supposition.-In this last part,                 Gaul may champ the bit
however, it is really impracticable to distin-"  F    it retribun!  G aul may champ the bit
And foam in fetters; —but is Earth more free?
ish them. —Not only do the author and his   Did nations combat to make One submit;
ero travel and reflect together, —but, in truth,   Or leaue to teach all kings true sovereignty?
we scarcely ever have any distinct intimation    What! shall reviving Thraldom again be
o which of them the sentiments so energeti-   The patch'd-up idol of enlighten'd days?
ally expressed are to be ascribed  and in   Shall we, who struck the Lion down, shall we
ose which are unequivocally given as those    Pay the Wolf honage?"
f the noble author himself, there is the very  " If not, o'er one fall'n despot boast no more!"
ame tone of misanthropy, sadness, and scorn,   There can be no more remarkable proof of
hich we were formerly willing to regard as the greatness of Lord Byron's genius than the
part of the assurred costume of the Childe. spirit and interest he has contrived tho cos
e are far from supposing, indeed, that Lord municate to his picture of the often-drawn and
ron would disavow any of these sentiments; difficult scene of the breaking up from Brusnd though there are some which we mustsels before the great battle. It is a trite
ver think it most unfortunate to entertain, sesmark that poets g reat b    attle. It i  te repre
d others which it appears improper to have  ke that poets generally fail in the   repreublished the greater part are admirable, and  sentation of great events, when the interest
unlnste', the greater part are admirable, and is recent, and the particulars are consequently
annot be  perused without emotion. even byis recent and the particulars are consequentl, e  clearly and cqmmonly known: and the reason
those to whom they may appear errorneous.   is obvious: For as it is the object of poetry to, —he    poem opens'with a burst of gr and poe- * make us feel for distant or imaginary occurtry[ and lofty and impetuous feeling,  In which  rences nearly as strongly as if they were prehe author speaks undisguisedly in his own  sent and real, it is plain Ntat there is no scope
erson.                                      for her enchantments, where the impressive
Once more upon the waters! yet once more!    reality, with all its vast preponderance of interAnd the waves bound beneath me, as a steed   est, is already before us, and where the conThat knows his rider. Welcome, to their roar! cern we take in the gazette far outgoes any
Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead!  emotion that can be conjured up in us by the
Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a reed, help of fine descriptions.  It is natural, howAnd the rent canvass fluttering strew the gale,
Still must I on forI am as a weed,    ever, for the sensitive tribe of poets to misFlung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail  take the common interest which they then
Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's share with the unpoetical part of their counbreath prevail.                        trymen, for a vocation to versify; and so they
" In my youth's summer, I did sing of One,     proceed to pour out the lukewarm distillations
The wand'ring outlaw of his own dark mind;    of their phantasies upon the unchecked efferAgain I seize the theme then but begun,      vescence of public feeling! All our bards,
And bear it with me, as the rushing wind     accordingly, great and small, and of all sexes,
Bears the cloud onwards. In that tale I find  ages, and professions, from Scott and Soutlihey
The furrows of long thought, and dried-up tears, down to hundreds without names or additions
Which, ebbing, leave a sterile track behind,
O'er which alf heavily the journeying years
Plod the last sands of life,-where not a flower in the management of it   And while they
appears.                               yielded to the patriotic Impulse, as if they had
all caught the inspiring summon3 —
"Since my young days of passion-joy, or pain,
Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string,  "Let those rhyme now who never rhym'd before,
And both may jar. It may be, that in vain    And those who always rhyme, rhyme now the
T womd essay, as I have sung to sing.               more-"
Yet,.al-Agh a dreary strain, to this I cling;
So that a wean me from the weary dream ~    The result has been, that scarcely a line to
Of selfish grief or gladness!-so it fling   be remembered had been produced on a sub



LORD BYRON'S POETRY.                                     441
Ject which probably was thought. of itself, a  "They mourn, but smile at length; and, smiling
secure passport to immortality.  It required   T'he tree will wither long before it fall;  [mourn
some courage to venture on a t~hme beset  T,'he hull drives on, though mast and sail be torn.'I'he roof-tree sinks, but moulders on the hall
with so many dangers, and deformed with the    In massy hoariness; the ruin'd wall
wrecks of so many former adverturers;-and    Stands when its wind.worn battlements are gone.;
a theme, too, which, in its general conception, The bars survive the captive they enthral;
appeared alien to the prevailing tone of Lord    The day drags through, though storms keep out
Byron's poetry.  See, however, with what               the sun;
easy strength he enters upon it. and with how  And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on:
much grace he gradually finds his way back  " Even as a broken mirror, which the glass
to his own peculiar vein of sentiment and    In every fragment multiplies; and makes
diction.    -peculiar vein. of sentiment and    A thousand images of one that was,
The same, and still the more, the more it breaks;
"There was a sound of revelry by night;          And thus the heart will do which not forsakes,
And Belgium's capital had gather'd then        Living in shatter'd guise, and still, and cold,
Her beauty and her chivalry; and bright        And bloodless, with its sleepless sorrow aches,
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.   Yet withers on till all without is old,    [told."
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when     Showing no visible sign,-for such things are unMusic arose with its voluptuous swell,
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,         There is next an apostrophe to Napoleon,
Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,   There is next an  apostrophe to Napoleon,
And all went merry as a marriage bell;       graduating into a series of general reflections,
But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising expressed with infinite beauty and earnestknell!"                                ness, and illustrated by another cluster of
" Ah! then and there iwas hurrying to and fro,  magical images; —but breathing the very esAnd gath'ring tears, and tremblings of distress,  sence of misanthropical disdain, and embodyAnd cheeks all pale. which but an lour ago   ing opinions which we conceive not to be less
Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness;  erroneous than revolting.  After noticing the
And there were sudden partings; such as press  strange combination of grandeur and littleness
The life from out young hearts; and choking sighs which seemed to form the character of that
Which ne'er might be repeated:-who could
lguess                                 greatest of all captains and conquerors the
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,  author proceeds,
Since upon nights so sweet such awful morn could  "Yet well thv soul hath brook'd the turning tid
With that untaught innate philosophy,
"And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,   Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride,
The must'ring squadron, and the clatt'ring car,    Is gall and wormwood to an enemy.
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,     When the whole host of hatred stood hard by
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;       To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou  ast
And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar;       With a sedate and all-enduring eye;-   [smil'd
And near, the beat of the alarming drum        When fortune fled her spoil'd and favourite child,
Rous'd up the soldier ere the morning star.  He stood unbow'd beneath the ills upon him pil'd.
" And Ardennes waves above them  her green    Sager than in thy fortunes: For in them
leaves,                                  Ambition steel'd thee on too far to show
Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass!   That just hab;itual scorn which could contemn
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,     Men and their thoughts.'Twas wise to feel; not so
Over the unreturning brave,-alas!              To wear it ever on thy lip and brow,
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass       And spurn the instruments thou wert to use
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow   Till they were turn'd unto thine overthrow:
In its next verdure! when this fiery mass'Tis but a worthless world to win or lose!Of living valour, rolling on the foe   [and low." So hath it prov'd to thee, and all such lot who choose.
And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold
e5,But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell,
After some brief commemoration of the    And there hath been thy bane! There is a fire
worth and valour that fell in that bloody field,   And motion of the soul which will not dwell
the author turns to the many hopeless mourn-   In its own narrow being, but aspire
Beyond the fitting medium of desire
ers that survive to lament their extinction; the    Beyond, but one  ingdled, quenchless evermore
y broken-he rted families whose a n,       And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore,
many broken-hearted families, whose incura-   Preys upon high adventure; nor can tire
ble sorrow is enhanced by the national ex-   Of aught but rest; a fever at the core,
ultation that still points, with importunate joy, Fatal to him who bears, to all who ever bore.
to the scene of their destruction.  There is a    This makes the madmen, who have made men
richness and energy in the following passage    By their contagion; Conquerors and Kings, [mad
which is peculiar to Lord Byron, among all   Founders of sects and systems,-to whom add
modern poets,-a throng of glowing images,   Sophists, Bards, Statesmen, all unquiet things,
pouredforth at once, with a facility and pro    Which stir too strongly the soul's secret springs,
poured forth at once, with a facility and pro-   Ald are themselves the fools to those they fool;
fusion which must appear mere wastefulness   Envied, yet how unenviable! what stings
to more economical writers, and a certain    Are theirs! One breast laid open were a school
negligence and harshness of diction, which  Which would unteach mankind the lust to shine or
can belong only to an author who is oppressed          rule:
with the exuberance and rapidity of his con-   Their breath is agitation; and their life,
ceptions.                                        A.torm whereon they ride, to sink at last;
And yet so nurs'd and bigotted to strife
" The Archangel's trump, not Glory's, must awake    That should their days, surviving perils past,
Those whom they thirst for! though the sound   Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcast
of Fame                                  With sorrow and supineness, and so die!
May for a moment soothe, it cannot slake       Even as a flame unfed, which runs to waste
The fever of vain longing; and the name        With its own flickering; or a sword laid by
So honour'd but assumes a stronger, bitterer claim. Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.




442                                  POETRY.
He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find  genius has only beeik levied from those who
The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow; held the secondary shares of it. Men of truly
He who surpasses or subdues mankind,     great powers of mind have generally been
Must look down on the hate of those below.  t powers of mind hav  generally been
Thousoh high above the sun of glory glow,  cheerful, social, and indulgent; while a tenAnd Far beneath the earth and ocean spread,  dency to sentimental whining, or fierce mntolRound him are icy rocks; and loudly blow  erance, may be ranked among the surest
Contending tempests on his naked head, [led." symptoms of little souls and inferior intelAnd thus reward the toils which to those summits lects. In the whole list of our English poet,
-This is splendidly written, no doubt-but we can only remember Shenstone and Savage
we trust it is not true; and as it is delivered; -two, certainly, of the lowest-who were,ith much more than poetical earnestness: querulous and discontented. Cowley, indeed,
nd recurs, indeed, in other forms in variousy used to call himself melancholy; —but he was
tarts of the volume, we must really be allowed' not in earnest; and, at any rate, was full of
o enter our dissent somewhat at large. With conceits and affectations; and has nothing to
egard to conquerors, we wish with all our make us proud of him. Shakespeare, the
earts that the case were as the noble author greatest of them all, was evidently of a free
epresents it: but we greatly fear they are and joyous temperament;-and so was Chaueither half so unhappy, nor half so much cer, their common master. The same disated as they should be. On the contrary, it, position appears to have predominated in
seems plain enough that they are very com- Fletcher, Jonson, and their great contempomonly idolised and admired, even by those raries. The genius of Milton partook someon whom  they trample; and we suspect, thing of the austerity of the party to which he,
moreover, that in general they actually pass belonged, and of the controversies in which
their time rather agreeably, and derive con- he was involved; but even when fallen on
siderable satisfaction from the ruin and deso- evil days and evil tongues, his spirit seems to
lation of the world. From Macedonia's mad- have retained its serenity as well as its digman to the Swede-from Nimrod to Bonaparte, nity; and in his private life, as well as in his
the hunt'ers of men have pursued their sport poetry, the majesty of a high character is
with as much gaiety, and as little remorse, as tempered with great sweetness, genial indulthe hunters of other animals-and have lived gences, and practical wisdom. In the sucas cheerily in their days of action, and as ceeding age our poets were but too gay; and
comfortably in their repose, as the followers though we forbear to speak of living authors,
of better pursuits. For this, and for the fame we know enough of them to say with confiwhich they have generally enjoyed, they are dence, that to be miserable or to be hated is
obviously indebted to the great interests con- not now, any more than heretofore, the comnected with their employment, and the men- mon lot of those who excel.
tal excitement which belongs to its hopes and iIf this, however, be the case with poets,
hazards. It would be strange, therefore, if confessedly the most irritable' and fantastic
the other active, but more innocent spirits, of all men of genius-and of poets, too, bred
whom Lord Byron has here placed in the and born in the gloomy climate of England,
same predicament, and who share all their it is not likely that those who have surpassed
sources of enjoyment, without the guilt and their fellows in other ways, or in other regions,
the hardness which they cannot fail of con- have been more distinguished for'unhappiness.
tracting, should be more miserable or more Were Socrates and Plato, the greatest philosounfriended than those splendid curses of their phers of antiquity, remarkable for unsocial
kind: —And it would be passing strange, and or gloomy tempers? —was Bacon, the greatest
pitiful, if the most precious gifts of Providence in modern times?-was Sir Thomas More-'should produce only unhappiness, and man- or Erasmus —os Hume-or Voltaire — was
kind regard with hostility their greatest bene- Newton- or Fenelon?-was Francis IL, or
factors.                                  Henry IV.. the paragon of kings and conquerWe do not belieye in any such prodigies. ors? —was Fox, the most ardent, and, in the
(Ireat vanity and ambition may indeed lead vulgar sense, the least successful of statesto feverish and restless efforts-to jealousies, men? These, and men like these, are unto hate, and to mortification-but these are doubtedly the lights and the boast of the
only their effects when united to inferior world. Yet there was no alloy of misan
abilities. It is not those. in short, who ac- thropy or gloom in their genius. They di,
tually surpass mankind, that are unhappy; not disdain the men they had surpassed; aIin
biht those who struggle in vain to surpass neither feared nor experienced their hostility.
them: And this moody temper, which eats Some detractors they might have, from envy
into itself from within, and provokes fair and or misapprehension; but, beyond all doubt,
unfair opposition from without, is generally the prevailing sentiments in respect to themr
the result of pretensions which outgo the have always been those of gratitude and admerits by which they are supported-and dis- miration; and the error of public judgment,
appointments, that may be clearly traced, not where it has erred, has much oftener been to
to the excess of genius, but its defect.  overrate than to undervalue the merits of
It will be found, we' believe, accordingly, those who had claims on their good opinion.
tfat the master spirits of their age have al- On the whole, we are far from thinking that
ys escaped the unhappiness which is here eminent men are actually happier than those
Eupposed to be the inevitable lot of extraordi- who glide through life in peaceful obscurity:
xary talents; and that this strange tax upon But it is their eminence, arid the consequences




LORD BYRON'S POETRY.                                      44~
of it, rather than the mental superiority by    This breath'd itself to life.i Julie, this
which it is obtained, that interferes with their   Invested her with all that's wild and sweet," &c.
enjoyment. Distinction, however won, usually  " Clarens! sweet Clarens, birth-place of deep
leads to a passion for more distinction; and. is       Love!
apt to engage us in laborious efforts and anx-   Thine air is the young breath of passionate
ious undertakings: and those, even when suc-           thought!
cessful, seldom  repay, in our judgment at   Thy trees take root in Love; the snows above
The very Glaciers have his colours caught,
least, the ease, the leisure, and tranquillity,   And sun-set into rose-hues sees them wrought
of which they require the sacrifice: but it   By rays which sleep there lovingly! The rocks.
really passes our imagination to conceive, that   The permanent crags, tell here of Love; who
the very highest degrees of intellectual vigour,       sought
or fancy, or sensibility, should of themselves    I them a refuge from the worldly shocks,
be productive either of unhappiness or general Which stir and sting the soul with hope that woos,
be productive either of unhappiness or general         then mocks.
dislike.
Harold and his poet next move along the  "All things are here of him; from the black pines,
lovely banks of the Rhine to which and all   Which are his shade on high, and the loud roar
lovely banks of the Rhine, to which, and all   Of torrents. where he listeneth, to the vines
their associated, emotions, due honour is paid    Which slope his green path downward to the
in various powerful stanzas.  We pass on,               shore,
however, to the still more attractive scenes   Where the bow'd waters meet him, and adore,
of Switzerland.  The opening is of suitable    Kissing his feet with murmurs; and the wood,
grandeur.                                         The covert of old trees, with trunks all hoar,
But light leaves, young as joy, stands where it
"But these recede. Above me are the Alps,              stood,
The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls      Offering to him and his, a populous solitude."
Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps,    Our readers may think, perhaps, that there
And throned Eternity in icy halls,
Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls     is too much sentiment and reflection in these
The avalanche-the thunderbolt of snow!       extracts; and wish for the relief of a little
All that expands the spirit, yet appals,     narrative or description: but the truth is, that
Gather around these summits, as to show      there is no narrative in the poem, and that all
How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain the descriptions are blended with the expres.
sion of deep emotion. The following picture
On this magnificent threshold, the poet however, of an evening calm on the lake of
pauses, to honour the patriot field of Morat, Geneva, we think, must please even the lov
And the shrine of the priestess of Aventicum; ers of pure descriptionaaId then, in congratulating himself on his
d then, in congratulating  himself on his  "Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake,
solitude, once more moralises his song with    With the wide world I dwelt in, is a thing
something of an apology for its more bitter   Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake
misanthropies.                                    Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring.
This quiet sail is a noiseless wing
" To fly from, need not be to hate malnkind;      To waft me from distraction! Once I lov'd
All are not fit with them to stir and toil,    Torn ocean's roar; but thy soft murmuring
Nor is it discontent to keep the mind          Sounds sweet, as if a sister's voice reprov'd,
Deep in its fountain, lest it overboil       That I with stern delights should e'er have been
In the hot throng," &c.                              so mov'd.
" The race of life becomes a hopeless flight   "It is the hush of night; and all between
To those that walk in darkness; on the sea,    Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear,
The boldest steer but where their ports invite,  Mellow'd and mingling, yet distinctly seen,
But there are wanderers o'er Eternity  [shall be.   Save darken'd Jura, whose capt heights appear
Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor'd ne'er   Precipitously steep! and drawing near,
Is it not better, then, to be alone,           There breathes a living fragrance from the shore,
And love Earth only for its earthly sake?      Of flowers yet fresh with childhood; on the ear
By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone,       Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, [more!
Or the pure bosom of its nursing lake,
OrWhich feeds it as a mother who dot make,    Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol
Which feeds it as a mother who doth make
A fair but froward infant her own care,       " At intervals, some bird from out the brakes,
Kissing its cries away as these awake."        Starts into voice a moment, then is still.'I here seems a floating whisper on the hill;
The  cliffs of Meillerie. and  the groves   But that is fancy!-for the starlight dews
of Clarens of course, conjure up the shade    All silently their tears of love instil,
of Rousseau; whom  he characterises very    Weeping themselves away, till they infuse
strongly, but charitably, in several enchant-   Deep into nature's breast the spirit of her hues."
ing stanzas;- one or two of which we shall   The following  sketch of a Midsummer
cite as a specimen of the kindred rapture night's thunder storm in the same sublime
with which the Poet here honours the Apostle  region, is still more striking and original —'
of Love.
"The sky is charg'd!-and such a change! Oh
" tis love was passon's essence! As a tree            night,                         [strong!
On fire by lightning, with ethereal flame      And storm, and darkness, ye are wondroue
Kindled he was, and blasted; for to be         Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
Thus, and enamour'd, were in him the same.     Of a dark eye in woman! Far along,
But his was not the love of living dame,       From peak to peak, the rattling crags among
Nor of the dead who rise upon our dreams,      Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud,
But of ideal beauty; which became              But every mountain now hath fo'and a tongue,
In him existence, and o'erflowing teems [seems.   And Jura answers, through her misty shroud,
ong his burning page, distemper'd though it   Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud.




144                                       POETRY.
"And this is in the night: —Most glorious night!  length liberated, when worn out with age
Thou wert not sent for slumber! let me be    and misery-and is supposed in his joyless
A sharer in thy fierce and far delight,-     liberty, to tell, in this poem, te sad story of
A portion of the tempest and of thee!                                       e s  t   r.f
How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea!  his imprisonment.   The picture of their first
And the big rain comes dancing to the earth!   feelings, when bound apart in this living
And now again'tis bjack,-and now, the glee    tomb, and of the gradual sinking of their
Of the loud hills shake with its mountain-mirth."  cheery fortitude, is full of pity and agony.
In passing Ferney and Lausanne, there is a    "We could not move a single pace;
fine account of Voltaire and Gibbon; but we        We could not see each other's face,
have room for but one more extract, and must       But with that pale and livid light
take it from the characteristic reflections with   That made us strangers n our sight;
which the piece is concluded.  These like          Fetter'd in hand, and p'd in heart 
most of the preceding, may be thought to'Twas still some solace in the dearth
savour too much of egotism: But this is of          Of the pure elements of earth,
the essence of such poetry; and if Lord By'        To hearken to each other's speech,
ron had only been happier, or in better hu-        And each turn comforter to each,
With some new hope, or legend old,
our with the world, we should have been
Or song heroically bold;
delighted with the confidence he has here         But even these at length grew cold 
reposed in his readers:-as it is, it sounds too    Our voices took a dreary tone,
like the last disdainful address of a man who       An echo of the dungeon-stone,
is about to quit a world which has ceased to         A grating sound-not full and free
have any attractions-like the resolute speech        As they of yore were wont to be.
Of Pierre-                                    It might be fancy-but to me
of Pierre —                                        They never sounded like our own."
"For this vile world and I have long been jangling,    The return to the condition of the younge
And cannot part on better terms than now."-     Ther    the  co ndition of the younger
brother, the blooming Benjamin of the family,
The reckoning, however, is steadily and  is extremely natural and affecting..ernly made; and though he does not spare          I was the e
himself, we must say that the world comes         I was the eldest of the three,
off much the worst in the comparison.  The         And toh tphold o-and did my best;
Passage is very singular, and written with          And each did well in his degree.
~fnuch force and dignity.               *          The youngest, whom my father lov'd,
Because our mother's brow was giv'n
"Thus far I have proceeded in a theme              To him-with es as blue as heav'n
Renew'd with no kind auspices. —To feel          For him  my  soul was sorely mov'd;
We are not what we have been, and to deem        F   h   my s
We are not what we shouldave been,;-and to steel  And truly might it be distrest
We are not what we should be; —and to steel
The heart against itself; and to conceal,        For he was beautiful as dayWith a proud caution, love, or hate, or aught,-  (When day was beautiful to me
Passion or feeling, purpose, grief or zeal,-     As to young eagles, being free)Which is the tyrant spirit of our thought,       And thus he was as pure and bright,
[s a stern task of soul!-No matter!-it is taught.  And in his natural spirit gay,'fI have not lov'd the world-nor the world me      With tears for nought but other's ills;
I have not flatter'd its rank breath; nor bow'd  And then they flow'd like mountain rills.
) To its idolatries a patient knee,-             The gentle decay and gradual extirl tion
Nor coin'd my cheek to smiles,-nor cried aloud      is youngest       is the most ten
In worship of an echo. In the crowd          of th              fe is the most te       a
They could not deem me one of such; I stood   beautiful passage in the poem.
Among them, but not of them," &c.              " But he, the favorite and the flow'r,' I have not lov'd the world, nor the world me'    Most cherish'd since his natal hour,
But let us part fair foes; I do believe,         His mother's image in fair face,
Though I have found them not, that there may be  The infant love of all his race,
Words which are things, -hopes which will not de-  His martyr'd father's dearest thought,
And virtues which are merciful, nor weave [ceive  M'y latest care, for whom I sought
Snares for the failing! I would also deem       To hoard my life, that his might be
O'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve;  Less wretched now, and one day free 
That two or one, are almost what they seem,-     He, too, who yet had held untir'd
That goodhess is no name, and happiness no         A spirit natural or inspir'ddream."                                    He, too, was struck! and day by day
The closing stanzas of the poem  are ex-         Was wither'd on the stal and  eeway.
He faded; and so calm and meek,'tremely beautiful; —but we are immoveable         So softly worn, so sweetly weak,
in the resolution, that no statement of ours       So tearless, yet so tender-kind,
shall ever give additional publicity to the        And griev'd for those he left behind;
*ibjects of which they treat.                       Wilh all the while a cheek whose bloom
We come now to "The Prisoner of Chillon."        Was as a mockery of the tomb,
It is very sweet and touching-though we            As adeparting rainbowtly sunk awray
can afford but a short account of it.  Chillon     An eye of most transparent light,
is a ruined castle on the Lake of Geneva, in       That almost made the dungeon brig'at,
the dungeon of which three gallant brothers        And not a word of murmur i not
were confined, each chained to a separate          A groan o'er his untinely lot,pillar, till, after long years of anguish, the     A little talk of b etter days,
two younger died, and were buried under the        For I was sunk in silence-lost
told floor of the prison.  The eldest was at       In this last loss, of all the most;




LORD BYRON'S POETRY.                                  4
And then the sighs he would suppress     And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Of fainting nature's feebleness,         Their funeral piles with fuel, and look'd up
More slowly drawn, grew less and less!  With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
I listen'd, but I could not hear!-      The pall of a past world! and then again
I call'd, for I was wild with fear;      With curses cast them down upon the dust,
I call'd, and thought I heard a sound-   And gnash'd their teeth, and howl'd!"
I burst my chain with one strong bound,    Then they eat each other: and are extin.
And rush'd to him!-I found him not,
1 only stirr'd in this black spot,       guished!
I only liv'd-I only drew                 "- ------- The world was void,
Th' accursed breath of dungeon-dew."     The populous and the powerlul was a lump,
After this last calamity, he is allowed to be Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifelessat large in the dungeon..     A lump of death —a chaos of hard clay!
The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,
"And it was liberty to stride              And nothing stirr'd -within their silent depths 
Along my cell from side to side,         Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,   [dropp'd
And up and down, and then athwart,       And their masts fell down piecemeal: As they
And tread it over every part;            They slept on the abyss without a surgeAnd round the pillars one by one,        The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave
Returning where my walk begun,           The moon their mistress had expir'd before:
Avoiding only, as I trod,                The winds were wither'd in the stagnant air,
My brothers' graves without a sod.'      And the clouds perish'd; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them —She was the universe."
He climbs up at last to the high chink that
admitted the light to his prison; and looks   There is a poem  entitled " The Dreamn,"
out once more on the long-remembered face full of living pictures, and written with great
of nature, and the lofty forms of the eternal beauty and genius-but extremely painfulmountains.                                   and abounding with mysteries into,which we
have no desire to penetrate.  " The IncantIThey were not changd likthey were the in frame,  ation" and "Titan" have the same distressing
They were not chang'd like me in frame;
I saw their thousand years of snow         character-though without the sweetness of
On high-their wide long lake below,        the other. Some stanzas to a nameless friendl
And the blue Rhone in fullest flow;        are in a tone of more open misanthropy. This
I heard the torrents leap and gush         is a favourable specimen of their tone and
O'er channell'd rock and broken bush;
I saw the white-wall'd distant town,
And whiter sails go skimming down;         "Though human, thou didst not deceive me,
And then there was a little isle,            Though woman, thou didst not forsake,
Which in my very face did smile,           Though lov'd, thou foreborest to gritve me,
The only one in view;                    Though slandeild, thou never couldst shake,A small green isle; it seem'd no more,     Though trusted, thou didst not disclaim me,
Scarce broader than my dungeon floor,        Though parted, it was not to fly,
But in it there were three tall trees,     Though watchful,'twas not to defame me,
And o'er it blew the mountain breeze,        Nor mute, that the world might belie."
And by it there were waters flowing,
And on it there were young flow'rs growing,  Beautiful as this poetry 1is it is a relief at
Of gentle breath and hue.              last to close the volume. We cannot maintain
The fish swam by the castle wall,          our accustomed tone of levity, of. even speak
And they seem'd joyous, each and all;      like calm literary judges, in the midst of these
The eagle rode the rising blast;           agonisingtraces of a wounded and distempered
Methought he never flew so fast  
As then to me he seem'd to fly."           spirit.  Even our admiration is at last swallowed up in a most painful feeling of pity and
The rest of the poems in this little volume, of wonder.  It is impossible to mistake these
are less amiable-and most of them, we fear, for fictitious sorrows, conjured up for the purhave a personal and not very charitable ap- pose of poetical effect. There is a dreadful
plication.  One, entitled "Darkness," is free tone of sincerity, and an energy that cannot
at least from this imputation. It is a grand be counterfeited. in the expression of wretch.
and gloomy sketch of the supposed conse-ednessandalienationfrom humankind, which
quences of the final extinction of the Sun and occurs in every page of this publication; and
the Heavenly bodies-executed, undoubtedly, as the author has at last spoken out in his own
with great and fearful force-but with some-           and unbosomed his griefs a great deal
ting of German exaggeration, and a fantas-too freely to his readers, the offence now
tical selection of incidents.  The very con- would be to entertain a doubt of their reality.
ception is terrible, above all conception of We certainly have no hope-of preaching him
known calamity-and is too oppressive to the into philanthropy and cheerfulness  but it is
imagination, to be contemplated with pleas- impossible not to mourn tver such —a catasure, even in the faint reflection of poetry.    trophe of such a mind, or to see the prodigal
" The icy earth       gifts of Nature, Fortune, and Fame, thus
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air." turned to bitterness, without an oppressive
Cities and forests are buint, for light and feeling of impatience, morti4cation. and surwarmth.                                      prise. Where there are such elements, however, it is equally impossible to despair that
or" The brws ofa n un earthly a spect, as by fits pang  ght  they may yet enter into happier combination,
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
nd hid theirs fell upond whem!  Some lay downid res t          "yet shall reascend
eir chid their eyes and wept  s and some did rest                "yet shall reascend
Them chins upon their clenched hands, and smil'd!  Self-rais'd, and repossess its native seat."




U6                                  POETVR.
(November, 1817.)
Latlla Rookh; an Oriental Romance. By THOMAS MOORE. 4to. pp. 405.: London: 1817.
THERE is a great deal of our recent poetry I stitution of genius. While it is more splendid
derived from the East: But this is the finest in imagery-(and for the most part in very
Orientalism we have had yet. The land of good taste)-more rich in sparkling thoughts
the Sun has never shone out so brightly on the and original conceptions, and more full indeed
children of the North-nor the sweets of Asia of exquisite pictures, both of all sorts of beaubeen poured forth, nor her gorgeousness dis. ties and virtues, and all sorts of sufferings and
played so profusely to the delighted senses of crimes, than any other poem that has yet come
Europe. The beauteous forms, the dazzling before us; we rather think we speak the sense
splendours, the breathing odours of the East, of most readers, when we add, that the effect
seem at last to have found a kindred poet in of the whole is to mingle a certain feeling of
that green isle of the West; whose Genius disappointment with that of admiration! to
has long been suspected to be derived from a excite admiration rather than any warmer
warmer clime. and now wantons and luxuri- sentiment of delight-to dazzle, more than to
ates in those voluptuous regions, as if it felt enchant-and, in the end, more frequently to
that it had at length regained its native ele- startle the fancy, and fatigue the attention, by
ment. It is amazing, indeed, how much at the constant succession of glittering images
home Mr. Moore seems to be in India, Persia, and high-strained emotions, than to maintain
and Arabia; and how purely and strictly a rising interest, or win a growing sympathy,
Asiatic all the colouring and imagery of his by a less profuse or more systematic display
book appears. He is thoroughly embued with of attractions.
the character of the scenes to which he trans-   The style is, on the whole, rather diffuse,
ports us; and yet the extent of his knowledge and too unvaried in its character. But its
is less wonderful than the dexterity and ap- greatest fault, in our eyes, is the uniformity
parent facility with which he has turned it to of its brilliancy-the want of plainness, simaccount, in the elucidation and embellishment plicity, and repose. We have heard it observed
of his poetry. There is not, in the volume by some very zealous admirers of Mr. Moore's
now before us, a simile or description, a name, genius, that you cannot open this book witha trait of history, or allusion of romance which out finding a cluster of beauties in every page.
belongs to European experience; or does not Now, this is only another way of expressing
indicate an entire familiarity with the life, the what we think its greatest defect. No work,.dead nature, and the learning of the East. consisting of many pages, should have detachNor are these barbaric ornaments thinly scat- ed and distinguishable beauties in every one
tered to make up a show. They are showered of them. No great work, indeed, should have
lavishly over all the work; and form, perhaps many beauties: If it were perfect, it would
too much, the staple of the poetry-and the have but one; and that but faintly perceptible,
riches of that which is chiefly distinguished except on a view of the whole. Look, for exfor its richness.                        ample, at what is perhaps the most finished
We would confine this remark, however, to and exquisite production of human art-the
the descriptions of external objects, and the design and elevation of a Grecian temple, in
allusions to literature and history-or to what its old severe simplicity. What penury of
may be termed the materiel of the poetry be- ornament-what rejection of beauties of defore us. The Characters and Sentiments are tail!-what masses of plain surface-what
of a different order. They cannot, indeed be rigid economical limitation to the useful and
said to be copies of European nature; but they the necessary! The cottage of a peasant is
are still less like that of any other region. scarcely more simple in its structure, and has
They are, in truth, poetical imaginations;-  not fewer parts that are superfluous. Yet
but it is to the poetry of rational, honourable, what grandeur-what elegance-what grace
considerate, and humane Europe, that they and completeness in the effect! The whole is
belong-and not to the childishness, cruelty, beautiful-because the beauty is in the whole:
and profligacy of Asia. It may seem a harsh But there is little merit in any of the parts,
and presumptuous sentence, to some of our except that of fitness and careful finishing.
Cosmopolite readers: But from all we have Contrast this, now, with a Dutch pleasurebeen able to gather from history or recent ob- house, or a Chinese-where every part is
servation, we should be inclined to say that meant to be separately beautiful-and the rethere was no sound sense, firmness of purpose, sult is deformity! —where there is not an inch
ur principled goodness, except among the na- of the surface that is not brilliant with varied
tives of Europe, and their genuine descendants. colour, and rough with curves and angles, -
There is something very extraordinary we and where the effect of the whole is monstrous
think, in the work before us-and something and offensive. We are as far as possible from
which indicates in the author, not only a great meaning to insinuate that Mr. Moore's poetry
exuberance of talent, but a very singular con- is of this description. On the contrary, we




MOORE'S LALLA ROOKH.                                447
think his ornaments are, for the most part, ceive of their proceedings, or to sympathise
truly and exquisitely beautiful; and the gene- freely with their fortunes. The disasters to
ral design of his pieces very elegant and in- which they are exposed, and the designs in
genious: All that we mean to say is, that which they are engaged, are of the same am
there is too much ornament-too many insu- bitious and exaggerated character; and all
lated and independent beauties-and that the are involved in so much pomp, and splendour,
notice, and the very admiration they excite, and luxury, and the description of their exhurt the interest of the general design; and treme grandeur and elegance forms so connot only withdraw our attention too importu- siderable a part of the whole work, that the
nately from it, but at last weary it out with less sublime portion of the species can with
their perpetual recurrence.               difficulty presume to judge of them, or to enIt seems to be a law of our intellectual con- ter into the concernments of such very exquistitution, that the powers of taste cannot be site persons. The incidents, in like manner,
permanently gratified, except by some sustain- are so prodigiously moving, so excessively
ed or continuous emotion; and that a series, improbable, and so terribly critical, that we
even of the most agreeable excitements soon have the same difficulty of raising our senticeases, if broken and disconnected, to give any ments to the proper pitch for them;-and,
pleasure. No conversation fatigues so soon as finding it impossible to sympathise as we
that which is made up of points and epigrams; ought to do with such portentous occurrences,
and the accomplished rhetorician, who     are sometimes tempted to withhold our symcould not opepathy altogether, and to seek for its objects
His mouth, but out there flew a trope"  among more familiar adventures. Scenes of
voluptuous splendour and ecstasy alternate
must have been a most intolerable companion. suddenly with agonising separations, atrocious
There are some things, too, that seem so plainly crimes, and tremendous sufferings;-battles,
intended for ornaments and seasonings only, incredibly fierce and sanglinary, follow close
that they are on]yagreeable, when sprinkled in on entertainments incredibly sumptuous and
moderation over a plainer medium. No one elegant;-terrific tempests are succeeded by
would like to make an entire meal on sauce pi- delicious calms at sea: and the land scenes
quante; or to appear in a dress crusted over with are divided between horrible chasms and prediamonds; or to pass a day in a steam of rich cipices, and vales and gardens rich in eternal
distilled perfumes. It is the same with the blooms, and glittering with palaces and tem
glittering ornaments of poetry-with splendid ples-while the interest of the story is mainmetaphors and ingenious allusions, and all the tained by instruments and agents of no less
figures of speech and of thought that consti- potency than insanity, blasphemy, poisonings
tute its outward pomp and glory. Now, Mr. religious hatred, national antipathy, demoniMoore, it appears to us, is decidedly too lavish acal misanthropy, and devoted love.
of his gems and sweets;-he labours under a   We are aware that, in objecting to a work
plethora of wit and imagination-impairs his like this, that it is made up of such materials,
credit by the palpable exuberance of his pos- we may seem to be objecting that it is made
sessions, and would be richer with half his of the elements ofpoetry,-since it is no doubt
wealth. His works are not only of costly ma- true. that it is by the use of such materials
terial and graceful design, but they are every- that poetry is substantially distinguished from
where glistening with small beauties and tran- prose, and that it is to them it is indebted for
sitory inspirations-sudden flashes of fancy, all that is peculiar in the delight and the inthat blaze out and perish; like earth-born terest it inspires: and it may seem a little
meteors that crackle in thflower sky, and un- unreasonable to complain of a poet, that he
seasonably divert our eyes from the great and treats us with the essence of poetry. We have
lofty bodies which pursue their harmonious already hinted, however, that it is not advisacourses in a serener region.              ble to live entirely on essences; and our obWe have spoken of these as faults of style: jection goes not only to the excessive strength
But they could scarcely have existed in the of the emotions that are sought to be raised,
style, without going deeper; and though they but to the violence of their transitions, and the
first strike us as qualities of the composition want of continuity in the train of feeling that
only, we find, upon a little reflection, that the is produced. It may not be amiss, however,
same general character belongs to the fable, to add a word or two more of explanation.
the characters, and the sentiments,-that they   In the first place, then, if we consider how
all sin alike in the excess of their means of the fact stands, we shall find that all the great
attraction -and fail to interest, chiefly by poets. and, in an especial manner, all the
being too interesting.                    poets who chain down the attention of their
In order to avoid the debasement of ordi- readers, and maintain a growing interest
nary or familiar life, the author has soared to through a long series of narrations, have been
a region beyond the comprehension of most remarkable for the occasional familiarity, and
of his readers. All his personages are so very even homeliness, of many of their incidents,
beautiful, and brave, and agonising-so totally characters and sentiments. This is the diswrapt up in the exaltation of their vehement tinguishing feature in Homer, Chaucer, Ari,
emotions, and withal so lofty in rank, and so osto Shakespeare, Dryden, Scott-and will be
sumptuous and magnificent in all that relates found to occur, we believe in all poetry that
to their external condition, that the herd of has been long and extensively popular; or that
ordinary mortals can scarcely venture to con- is capable of pleasing very strongly, or stirring




448                                   POETRY.
very deeply, the common sensibilities of our sist, or the energies they had exerted.  T4
nature. We need scarcely make an excep- make us aware of the altitude of a mountain,
tion for the lofty Lyric, which is so far from  it is absolutely necessary to show us the plain
being generally attractive, that it is not even from which it ascends. If we are allowed to
intelligible, except to a studious" few-or for see nothing but the table land at the top, the
those solemn and devotional strains which de- effect will be no greater than if we had re.
rive their interest from a still higher princi- mained on the humble level of the shore —
ple: But in all narrative poetry-in all long except that it will be more lonely, W1eak, and
pieces made up of descriptions and adven- inhospitable. And thus it is, that by extures, it seems hitherto to have been an indis- aggerating the heroic qualities of heroes. they
pensable condition of their success, that most become as uninteresting as if they had no
of the persons and events should bear a con- such qualities-that by striking out those
siderable resemblance to those which we meet weaknesses and vulgar infirmities which
with in-ordinary life; and, though more ani- identify them with ordinary mortals, they not
mated and important than to be of daily oc- only cease to interest ordinary mortals, but even
currence, should not be immeasurably exalted to excite their admiration or surprise; and ap.
above the common standard of human fortune pear merely as strange inconceivable beings,
and character.                            in whom superhuman energy and refinement
It should be almost enough to settle the are no more to be wondered at, than the power
question, that such is the fact-and that no of flying in an eagle, or of fasting in a snake.
narrative poetry has ever excited a great in-   The wise ancient who observed, that being
terest, where the persons were too much puri- a man himself lie could not but take an interfled from the vulgar infirmities of our' nature, est in every thing that related to man-might
or the incidents too thoroughly purged of all have confirmed his character for wisdom, by
that is ordinary or familiar. But the slightest adding, that for the same reason he could take
reflection upon the feelings with which we no interest in any thing else. There is nothread such poetry, must satisfy us as to the ing, after all, that we ever truly care for, but
reason of our disappointment. It may be told the feelings of creatures like ourselves:-and
in two words. Writings of this kind revolt by we are obliged to lend them to the flowers
their improbability; and fatigue, by offering and the brooks of the valley, and the stars and
no points upon which our sympathies can airs of heaven, before we can take any'delight
readily attach.-Two things are necessary to in them. With sentient beings the case is
give a fictitious narrative a deep and com- more obviously the same.  By whatever
inanding interest; first, that we should believe names we may call them, or with whatever
that such things might have happened; and fantastic attributes we may please to invest
secondly, that they might have happened to them, still we comprehend, and concern ourourselves, or to such persons as ourselves. selves about them, only in so far as they reBut, in reading the ambitious and overwrought semble ourselves.  All the deities of the
poetry of which we have been speaking, we classic mythology-and all the devils and
feel perpetually, that there could have been angels of later poets, are nothing but human
no such people, and no such occurrences as creatures-or at least only interest us so long
we are there called upon to feel for; and that as they are so. Let any one try to imagine
it is impossible for us, at all events, to have what kind of story he could make of the admuch concern about beings whose principles ventures of a set of beings who differed from
of action are so remote from our own, and who our own species in any of its general attributes
are placed in situations to which we have never -who were incapable, for instance, of the
known any parallel. It is no doubt true, that debasing feelings 6o fear, pain, or anxietyall stories that interest us must represent pas- and he will find, that instead of becoming
sions of a higher pitch, and events of a more more imposing and attractive by getting rid
extraordinary nature than occur in common of those infirmities, they become utterly inlife; and that it is in consequence of rising significant. and indeed in a great degree inthus sensibly above its level, that they become conceivable. Or, to come a little closer to
objects of interest and attention. But, in order the matter before us, and not to go beyond
that this very elevation may be felt, and pro- the bounds of common experience-Suppose
duce its effect, the story must itself, in other a tale, founded on refined notions of delicate
places, give us the known and ordinary level. love and punctilious integrity, to be told to a
and, by a thousand adaptations and traits of race of obscene, brutal and plundering savages
universal nature, make us feel, that the char- -or, even within the limits of the same counacters which become every now and then the try, if a poem, turning upon the jealousies of
objects of our intense sympathy and admira- court intrigue, the pride of rank, and the cabals
tion, in great emergencies, and under the in- of sovereigns and statesmen, were put into
fluence of rare but conceivable excitements, the hands of village maidens or clownish laare, after all, our fellow creatures-made of bourers, is it not obvious that the remoteness
the same flesh and blood with ourselves, and of the manners) characters and feelings from
acting, and acted upon, by the common prin- their own, would first surprise, and then reciples of our nature. Without this, indeed, volt them-and that the moral, intellectual
the effect of their sufferings and exploits and adventitious Superiority of the personages
w:)a.  be entirely lost upon us; as we should concerned, would instead of enhancing the
be witnout any scale by which to estimate the interest, entirely destroy it, and very speedily
magnitude of the temptations they had to re- extinguish all sympathy with their passions,




MOORE'S LALLA ROOKH.                               449
and all curiosity about their fate?-Now, what meet her enamoured bridegroom in the degentlemen and ladies are to a ferocious savage, lightful valley of Cashmere. The progress
or politicians and princesses to an ordinary of this gorgeous cavalcade, and the beauty
rustic, the exaggerated persons of such poetry of the country which it traverses, are exhibit.
as we are now considering, are to the ordinary ed with great richness of colouring and picreaders of poetry. They do not believe in turesque effect; though in this, as well as in
the possibility of their existence, or of their the other parts of the prose narrative, a ceradventures.  They do not comprehend the tain tone of levity, and even derision, is freprinciples of their conduct; and have no quently assumed-not very much in keeping
thorough sympathy with the feelings that are we think, with the tender and tragic strain of
ascribed to them.                         poetry of which it is the accompanimentWe have carried this speculation, we be- certain breakings out, in short, of that mock.
lieve, a little too far-and, with reference to ing European wit, which has made itself
the volume before us, it would be more cor- merry with Asiatic solemnity, ever since the
rect perhaps to say, that it had suggested these time of the facetious Count Hamilton-but
observations, than that they are strictly ap- seems a little out of' place in a miscellany,
plicable to it. For though its faults are cer- the prevailing character of which is of so
tainly of the kind we have been endeavouring opposite a temper. To amuse the languor,
to describe, it would be quite unjust to char- or divert the impatience of the royal bride, in
acterise it by its faults-which are beyond all the noon-tide and night-halts of her luxurious
doubt less conspicuous than its beauties. progress, a young Cashmerian poet had been
There is not only a richness and brilliancy of sent by the gallantry of the bridegroom; and
diction and imagery spread over the whole recites, on those occasions, the severalpoems
work, that indicate the greatest activity and that form the bulk of the volume now before
elegance of fancy in the author; but it is us. Such is the witchery of his voice and
everywhere pervaded, still more strikingly, look, and such the sympathetic effect of the
by a strain of tender and noble feeling, poured tender tales which he recounts, that the poor
out with such warmth and abundance, as to princess, as was naturally to be expected,
steal insensibly on the heart of the reader, falls desperately in love with him before the
and gradually to overflow it with a tide of end of the journey; and by the time she
sympathetic emotion. There are passages enters the lovely vale of Cashmere, and sees
indeed, and these neither few nor brief. over the glittering palaces and towers prepared
which the very Genius of Poetry seems to for her reception, she feels that she would
have breathed his richest enchantment-  joyfully forego all this pomp and splendour,
where the melody of the verse and the beauty and fly to the desert with her adored FeraOf the images conspire so harmoniously with morz. The youthful bard, however, has now
the force and tenderness of the emotion, that disappeared from her side; and she is supthe whole is blended into one deep and bright ported, with fainting heart and downcast
stream of sweetness and feeling, along which eyes. into the hated presence of her tyrant!
the spirit of the reader is borne passively when the voice of Feramorz himself bids her
away, through long reaches of delight. Mr. be of good cheer-and, looking up, she sees her:
Moore's poetry, indeed, where his happiest beloved poet in the Prince himself! who had:
veini is opened, realises more exactly than that assumed this gallant disguise, and won her
of any other writer, the splendid account young affections without deriving any aid
which is given by Comus of the song of    from his rank or her engagements.
The whole story is very sweetly and gaily
" His mother Circe, and the Sirens three,  told; and is adorned with many tender as
Amid the flowery-kirtled Naiades,       well as lively passages-without reckoning
Who, as theysung would take theprison'dsoul, well as lively passages-without reckoning
Who, as they sng, would t ake the prison'd soul, among the latter the occasional criticisms of
And lap it in Elysium!"
the omniscient Fadladeen, the magnificent.
And though it is certainly to be regretted and most infallible grand chamberlain of the.
that he should so often have broken the mea- Haram- whose sayings and remarks, we
sure with more frivolous strains, or filled up cannot help observing, do not agree very well
its intervals with a sort of brilliant falsetto, it with the character which is assigned himshould never be forgotten that his excellences being for the most part very smart, sentenare at least as peculiar to himself as his faults, tious, and acute, and by no means solemn,
and, on the whole, perhaps more characteristic stupid, and pompous, as was to have been
of his genius.                            expected. Mr. Moore's genius, however, we
The. volume before us contains four sepa- suppose, is too inveterately lively, to make it:
rate and distinct poems-connected, however, possible for him even to counterfeit dulness
and held together C" like orient pearls at ran- We come at last, however, to the poetry.
dom strung," by the slender thread of a slight   The first piece, which is entitled "The
prose story, on which they are all suspended, Veiled Prophet of Khorassan," is the longest,
and to the simple catastrophe of which they we think, and certainly not the best, of the
in some measure contribute. This airy and series. It has all the faults which we have,
elegant legend is to the following effect. somewhat too sweepingly, imputed to the,
Lalla Rookh, the daughter of the great Au- volume at large; and it was chiefly, indeed,.
rengzebe, is betrothed to the young king of with a reference to it, that we made those
Bucharia; and sets forth, with a splendid introductory remarks, which the author will
train of Indian and Bucharian attendants, to probably think too much in the spirit of the
29




450                                   POETRY.
sage Chamberlain. The story, which is not illusions, he poisons the remnant of his ad.
in all its parts extremely  intelligible, is herents, and.himself plunges into a bath, of
founded on a notice, in D'Herbelot, of a da- such corrosive quality, as instantly to extin.
ring impostor of the early ages of Islamism, guish life, and dissolve all the elements of
who pretended to have received a later and the mortal frame. Zelica then covers herself
more authoritative mission than that of the with his fatal veil, and totters out to the ramprophet, and to be destined to overturn all parts, where, being mistaken for Mokanna,
tyrannies and superstitions on the earth, and she rushes upon the spear of her Azim, and
to rescue all souls that believed in him. To receives his forgiveness in death! while he
shade the celestial radiance of his brow, he survives, to pass the rest of his life in continalways wore a veil of silver gauze, and was ual prayer and supplication for her erring spirit;
at last attacked by the Caliph, and extermi- and dies at last upon her grave, in the full
nated. with all his adherents. On this story, assurance of rejoining her in purity and bliss.
Mr. Moore has engrafted a rotmantic and not   It is needless to enlarge on the particular
very probable tale of two young lovers, Azim  faults of this story, after the general observaand Zelica; the former of whom having been tions we hazarded at the outset. The charsupposed to perish in battle, the grief of the acter of Mokanna, as well as his power and
latter' unsettles her understanding; and her influence, is a mere distortion and extravadistempered imagination is easily inflamed gance: But the great blemish is the corrupby the mystic promises of the Veiled Prophet, tion of Zelica; and the insanity so gratuiwhich at length prevail on her to join the tously alleged by the poet in excuse of it.
troop (of lovely priestesses who earn a blissful Nothing less, indeed, could in any way acimmortality in another world, by sharing his count for such a catastrophe; and, after all,
embraces upon earth. By what artful illu- it is painful and offensive to the imagination.
sions the poor distracted maid was thus be- The bridal oath, pledged with blood among
trayed to her ruin, is not very satisfactorily the festering bodies of the dead, is one of the
explained; only we are informed that she overstrained theatrical horrors of the German
and the Veiled Apostle descended into a school; and a great deal of the theorising
charnel-house, and took a mutual oath, and and argumentation which is intended to pallidrank blood together, in pledge of their eter- ate or conceal those defects, is obscure and
nal union.  At length Azim, who had not incomprehensible. Rich as it is, in short, in
been slain, but made captive in battle, and fancy and expression, and powerful in some
had wandered in Greece till he had imbibed of the scenes of passion, we should have had
the love of liberty that inspired her famous great doubts of the success of this volume, if
heroes of old-hears of the proud promises it had all been of the same texture with the
of emancipation which Mokanna (for that poem of which we are now speaking.  Yet,
was the prophet's name) had held out to all even there, there is a charm, almost irresistinations, and comes to be enrolled among the ble, in the volume of sweet sounds and beauchampions of freedom and virtue.  On the tiful images, which are heaped together with
day of his presentment, he is introduced into luxurious profusion in the general texture of
a scene of voluptuous splendour, where all the the style, and invest even the absurdities of
seducive influences of art and nature are in vain the story with the graceful amplitude of their
exerted to divert his thoughts from the love rich and figured veil. What, for instance, can
of Zelica and of liberty. IHe breaks proudly be sweeter than this account of Azim's entry
away from these soft enchantments, and finds into this earthly paradise of temptations i
a mournful female figure before him, in whom
ne almost immediately recognises his long-' Meanwhile through vastilluminated halls
ne almost immediately recogses his long- Silent and bright, where nothing but the falls
lost and ever-loved Zelica. The first moment Of fragrant waters, gushing with cool sound
of their meeting is ecstasy on both sides; but From many a jasper fount. is heard around,
the unhappy girl soon calls to mind the un- Young Azim roams bewilder'd; nor can guess
utterable condition to which she is reduced-  What means this maze of light and loneliness!
and, in agony, reveals to him the sad story of Here, the way leads, o'er tesselated floors
Or mats of Cairo, through long corridors,
her derangement. and of the base advantages Where, rang'd in cassolets and silver urns,
that had been taken of it. Azim  at first Sweet wood of aloe or of sandal burns;
throws her from him in abhorrence, but soon And here, at once, the glittering saloon
turns, in relenting pity, and offers at last to Bursts on his sight, boundless and bright as noon
rescue her from this seat of pollution   She Where, in the midst, reflecting back the rays
listens with eager joy to' his proposal, and is In broken rainbows a  fresh fountain plays
High as th' enamell'd cupola; which towers
about to fly with him in the instant, when All rich with Arabesques of gold and flowers:
the dread voice of Mokanna thunders in her And the mosaic floor beneath shines through
ear her oath of eternal fidelity. That terrible The sprinkling of that fountain's silvery dew,
sound brings back her frenzy. She throws Like the wet, glist'ning shells, of ev'ry dye;
her lover wildly from her, and vanishes at That on the margin of the Red Sea lie.
once, amidst the dazzling lights of that un-   "Here too he traces the kind visitings
holy palace. Azim then joins the approaching  Of woman's love, in those fair, living things
army of the Caliph, and leads on his forces Of land and wave, whose fate-in bondage thrown
against the impious usurper. Mokanna per- For their weak loveliness-is like her own!
forms prodigies of valourbut is always borne On one side gleaming with a sudden grace
bforms      prorge f  vaorce ti anethusas bnThrough water, brilliant as the crystal vase
back by the superior force and enthusiasm of In which it undulates, small fishes shine,
Azim: and after a long course of horrors and Like golden ingots from a fairy mine!



MOORE'S LALLA ROOKH. ~45
While, on the other, lattic'd lightly in         "Ne'er did the march of Mahadi display
With odorif'rous woods of Comorin,             Such pomp before;-not ev'n when on his way
Each brilliant bird that wings the air is seen;-  To Mecca's Temple, when both land and sea
Gay, sparkling loories, such as gleam between  Were spoil'd to feed the Pilgrim's luxury;
The crimson blossoms of the coral tree         When round him, mid the burning sands, he saw
In the warm isles of India's sunny sea:        Fruits of the North in icy freshness thaw,
MIecca's blue sacred pigeon; and the thrush    And cool'd his thirsty lip, beneath the glow
Of Hindostan, whose holy warblings gush,       Of Mecca's sun, with urns of Persian snow:At evening, from the tall pagoda's top; —      Nor e'er did armament more grand than that
Those golden birds that, in the spice-time, drop    Pour from the kingdoms of the Caliphat.
About the gardens, drunk with that sweet food    First, in the van, the People of the Rock,
Whose scent hath lur'd them o'er the summer On their light mountain steeds, of royal stock;
And those that under Araby's soft sun  [flood;-  Then, Chieftains of Damascus, proud to see
Build their high nests of budding cinnamon."   The flashing of their swords' rich marquetry," &c.
pp. 53-56.                                     pp. 86-89.
The warrior youth looks round at first with    We can afford room  now only for the con.
disdain upon those seductions, with which he clusion-the last words of the dying Zelica;
supposes the sage prophet wishes to try the  which remind us of those of Campbell's Gerfirmness of his votaries.                      trude-and the catastrophe of Azim, which
is imaged in that of Southey's Roderick.
" While thus he thinks, still nearer on the breeze
Come those delicious, dream-like harmonies,    "'But live, my Azim;-oh! to call thee mine
Each note of which but adds new, downy links    Thus once again!-my Azim-dream divine!
To the soft chain in which his spirit sinks.   Live, if thou ever lov'dst me, if to meet
He turns him tow'rd the sound; and, far away   Thy Zelica hereafter would be sweet,
Through a long vista, sparkling with the play  Oh live to pray for her!-to bend the knee
Of countless lamps-like the rich track which Day  Morning and night before that Deity,
Leaves on the waters, when he sinks from us;   To whom pure lips and hearts without a stain,
So long the path, its light so tremulous;-    As thine are, Azim, never breath'd in vainHe sees a group of female forms advance,       And pray that He may pardon her-may take
Some chain'd together in the mazy dance        Compassion on her soul for thy dear sake,
By fetters, forg'd in the green sunny bowers,  And, nought rememb'ring but her love to thee,
As they were captives to the King of Flowers," &c. Make her all thine, all His, eternally!
Go to those happy fields where first we twin'd
"Awhile they dance before him; then divide,   Our youthful hearts together-every wind
Breaking, like rosy clouds at even-tide        That meets thee there, fresh from the well-known
Around the rich pavilion of the sun-                   flowers,
Till silently dispersing, one by one,          Will bring the sweetness of those innocent hours
Through many a path that from the chamber leads Back to thy soul, and thou may'st feel again
To gardens, terraces, and moonlight meads,     For thy poor Zelica as thou didst then.
Their distant laughter comes upon the wind,    So shall thy orisons, like dew that flies
And but one trembling nymph remains behind,    To heav'n upon the morning's sunshine, rise
Beck'ning them back in vain,-for they are gone,  With all love's earliest ardour to the skies!'
And she is left in all that light, alone!'
No veil to curtain o'er her beauteous brow,    Time fleeted! Years on years had pass'd away,
I      n iteous young and few of those who, on that mournful day
But a light, golden chain-work round her hair  Had stood, with pity in their eyes, to see
Such as the maids of Yezd and Shiraz wear,     The maiden's death, and the youth's agony,
While her left hand, as shrinkingly she stood,  Were living still-when, by a rustic grave
Held a small lute of gold and sandal wood,     Beside the swift Amoo's transparent wave,
Which, once or twice, she touch'd with hurrid        aged man, who had grown aged there
Then took her trembling fingers off again. [strain, By one lone grave, morning and night in prayer,
But when at length a timid glance she stole     For the last time knelt down! And, though the
At Azim, the sweet gravity of soul                     shade
She saw through all his features, calm'd her fear;  Of death hung dark'ning over him, there play'd
And, like a half-tam'd antelope, more near,    A gleam of rapture on his eye and cheek,
Though shrinking still, she came;-then sat her That brighten'd even death-like the last streak
Upon a musnud's edge, and bolder grown, [down  Of intense glory on th' horizon's brim,
In the pathetic mode of Ispahan                When night o'er all the rest hangs chlill and dim!Touch'd a preluding strain, and thus began:-"    His soul had seen a Vision, while he slept;
She, for whose spirit he had pray'd and wept
The following picture of the grand arma- So many years, had come to him, all drest
ment of the Caliph shows th  same luxuri- In angel smiles, and told him she was blest!
- For this the old man breath'd his thanks,-and
ance of diction and imagination, directed to           died!different objects,:-                           And there, upon the banks of that lov'd tide,
He and his Zelica sleep side by side."
"Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way,  He ad his Zelica sleep121 side by   12side."
Where all was waste and silent yesterday?
This City of War which, in a few short hours,    The next piece, which is entitled c" Paradise
Hath sprung up here, as if the magic powers    and the P        has none of the faults of the
uf Him who, lt   the hh twinklingls   of a star,  preceding.  It is full of spirit, elegance, and
Built the high pillar'd halls of Chilminar,    beauty; and, though slight enough in its stru
Had conjur'd up, far as the eye can see,       beauty; and, though slight enough in its strue
This world of tents and domes and sun-bright ture, breathes throughout a most pure and
armory!-                              engaging morality.  It is, in truth, little more
Princety pavilions, screen'd by many a fold    than a moral apologue, expanded and adorned
Of crimson cloth, and topp'd with balls of gold;- by the exuberant fancy of the poet who recites
Steeds, with their housings of rich silver spun,    it. The Pers are a sort of half-fallen female
Their chains and poitrels glitt'ring in the sun;
And camels, tufted o'er with Yemen's shells,   angels, who dwell in air, and live on perfumes;
Shaking in every breeze their light-ton'd bells!    and, though banished for a time from Para.




452                                      POETRY.
dise, go about in this lower world doing good. "' Oh! let me only breathe the air,
One of these-But it is as short, and much         The blessed air, that's breath'd by thee!
more agreeable, to give the author's own in-   And, whether on its wings it bear
troduction.                                        Healing or death,'tis sweet to me!
There-drink my tears, while yet they fa'l
"One morn a Peri at the gate                    Would that my bosom's blood were balm,
Of Eden stood, disconsolate;                And, well thou know'st, I'd shed it all
And as she listen'd to the Springs             To give thy brow one minute's calm.
Of Life within, like music flowing;        Nay, turn not from me that dear faceAnd caught the light upon her wings            Am I not thinte-thy own lov'd brideThrough the half-open portal glowing!    The one, the chosen one, whose place,
She wept to think her recreant race           In life or death, is by thy side!
Should e'er have lost that glorious place!"  When the stem dies, the leaf that grew
p. 133.    Out of its heart must perish too!
Then turn to me, my own love! turn
The Angel of the Gate sees her weeping,   Before like thee I fade and burn;
and-                                             Cling to these yet cool lips, and share
I''Nymph of a fair, but erring line!'     lThe last pure life that lingers there!'
hGently e said-' One hope is thine.   She fails-she sinks!-as dies the lamp'Tis written in the Book of Fate,           In charnel airs or cavern-damp,
The.  yet may be forgvenSo quickly do his baleful sighs
The Perings y et may be forgl Gate         Quench all the sweet light of her eyes!
Who bringts to tis E7'    ste Tar Gateen?One struggle-and his pain is pastThe gift that    tlover is no longer living!
Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin;-              Her lover is no longer lvng!
Go, seek it, and redee  thy sin  One kiss the maiden gives,-one last,'Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in!'. "-p. 135.     kiss-which he expires in giving."
Long kiss —which she expires in giving."
Full of hope and gratitude, she goes eagerly                               pp. 146-148.
in search of this precious gift. Her first quest   The gentle Peri bids them sleep in peace
is on the plains of India-the luxuriant beauty  and bears again to the gates of heaven the
of which is put in fine contrast with the havoc farewell sign of pure, self-sacrificing love.
and carnage which the march of a bloody The worth of the gift is again admitted by the
conqueror had then spread over them.  The pitying angel; but the crystal bar still rePeri comes to witness the heroic death of a mains immovable; and she is sent once more
youthful patriot, who disdains to survive the to seek a still holier offering. In passing over
overthrow  of his country's independence.-  the romantic vales of Syria, she sees a lovely
She catches the last drop which flows from  child at play among dews and flowers, and
his breaking heart, and bears that to heaven's opposite to him a stern wayfaring man, resting
gate, as the acceptable propitiation that was from some unhallowed toil, with the stamp of
required.  For                                all evil passions and evil deeds on his face.
"' Oh! if there be, on this earthly sphere,  "But hark! the vesper-call to prayer,
A boon, an offering Heaven holds dear,          As slow the orb of daylight sets,'Tis the last libation Liberty draws          Is rising sweetly on the air,
From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her    From Syria's thousand minarets!
cause!' "'-p. 140.                   The boy has started from the bed
The angel accepts the tribute with respect:   Of flowers, where he had laid his head,
But the crystal bar of the    t       es        And don upon the pofragrant sod
But the crytal bar of thae  portal does not  Kneels, with his forehead to the south
move! and she is told that something holier   Lisping th' eternal name of God
even than this, will be required as the price     From purity's own cherub mouth,
of her admission.  She now  flies to the    And looking, while his hands and eyes
source of the Nile, and makes a delightful but   Are lifted to the glowing skies,
pensive survey of the splendid regions which    Like a stray babe of Paradise,
it waters; till she finds the inhabitants of the   Just lighted on that flowery plain,
lovely gardens of Rosetta dying by thousands
of the plague-the  selfish deserting their "And how felt he, the wretched Man
friends and benefactors, and the generous,   O'er many aing   yearthere-whfilt andem'y ran
when struck with the fatal malady, seeking   Flew o'er the dark flood of his life,
some solitude where they may die without   Nor found one sunny resting place,
bringing death upon others.  Among the lat-   Nor brought jim back one branch of grace!
ter is a noble youth, who consoles himself, in' There was atime,' he said, in mild,
Heart-humbled tones-' thou blessed child!
the hour of his agony, with the thought, that   When oune and haply pure as thou,
his beloved and betrothed bride is safe from    I look'd and pray'd like thee!-but now!' —
this mortal visitation.  In the stillness of his   He hung his head-each nobler aim
midnight retreat, however, he hears a light       And hope and feeling, which had slept
step approaching.                               From boyhood's hour, that instant came
Fresh o'er him, and he wept-he wept!"
"'Tis she!-far off, through moonlight dim,                                   pp. 156, 157.
He knew his own betrothed bride,
She, who would rather die with him,            This tear of repentance is the acceptable
Than live to gain the world beside!-     gift for the Peri's redemption.  The gates of
Her arms are round her lover now!          heaven fly' open, and she rushes into the joy
His livid cheek to hers she presses,      of immortality.
And dips, to bind his burning brow,            "The Fire Worshippers" is the next in the
In the cold lake her loosen'd tresses,    series and appears to us to be indisputably
Ah! once how little did he think
An hour would come, when he should shrink    the finest and most powerful.  With all the
With horror from that dear embrace," &c.    richness and beauty of diction that belong to




MOORE'S LALLA ROOKH.                                     458
the best parts of Mokanna, it has a far more and earn her hand by helping him to root out
interesting story; and is not liable to any of  those impious Ghebers whom he so much abthe objections we have been obliged to bring  hors.  The spirit of the patriot bursts forth at
against the contrivance and structure of that this; and, without revealing his name or
leading poem.  The outline of the story is quality. he proudly avows and justifies the
short and simple.-Al Hassan, the bigotted  conduct of that luckless sect; and then, reand sanguinary Emir of Persia, had long waged  lenting, falls into a gentler and more pathetic
a furious and exterminating war against the  strain.
votaries of the ancient religion of the land —    Oh! had we never, never met!
the worshippers of Mithra, or his'emblem, Or coud this heart e'en now forget!
Fire-then and since designated by the name  How link'd, how bless'd we might have been,
of Ghebers.  The superior numbers of the  Had fate not frown'd so dark between!
invader had overcome the heroic resistance  Hadst thou been born a Persian maid;
of the patriots, and driven them to take refuge    In neighb'ring valleys had we dwelt,
in a precipitous peninsula, cut off from  the  Through the same fields in childhood play'd,
At the same kindling altar knelt —
land by what was understood to be an im-             the same kindling altar kneltland by what was understood to be an im- Then, then, while all those nameless ties,
passable ravine, and exposing nothing but In which the charm of Country lies,
bare rocks to the sea.  In this fastness the  Had round our hearts been hourly spun,
scanty remnant of the Ghebers maintain them-  rill Iran's cause and thine were one;
selves, under the command of their dauntless While in thy lute's awak'ning sigh
leader, Hafed, who is still enabled, by sudden  I heard the voice of days gone by,
And saw in ev'ry smile of thine
and daring incursions, to harass and annoy  Returning hours of glory shine!their enemy.  In one of those desperate en- While the wrong'd Spirit of our Land   [thee!terprises, this adventurous leader climbs to   Liv'd, look'd, and spoke her wrongs through
the summit of a lofty cliff, near the Emir's  God! who could then this sword withstand 
palace, where a small pleasure-house had    Its very flash were victory!
been built, in which he hoped to surprise this But now! Estrang'd, divorc'd for ever,
Far as the grasp of Fate can sever;
bigotted foe of his country; but found only  Our only ties what love has wove —
his fair daughter Hinda, the loveliest and gen-   Faith, friends, and country, sunder'd wide,
tlest of all Arabian maids-as he himself ex- And then. then only, true to love,
presses it.                                      When false to all that's dear beside!
Thy father Iran's deadliest foe" He climb'd the gory Vulture's nest,        Thyself, perhaps, ev'n now-but noAnd found a trembling Dove within!"       Hate never look'd so lovely yet!
No!-sacred to thy soul will be
This romantic meeting gives rise to a mu- The land of him who could forget
tual passion-and the love of the fair Hinda    All but that bleeding land for thee!
is inevitably engaged, before she knows the  When other eyes shall see, unmov'd,
name or quality of her nightly visitant. In the    Her widows mourn, her warriors fall,
noble heart of Hafed, however, love was but Thou'lt think  how  vell one Gheber lov'd,
a secondary feeling, to devotion to the free-   And for his sake thou'lt weep for all!"
dom and the faith of his country.  His little
band had lately suffered further reverses, and    He then starts desperately away; regains
saw nothing now before them  but a glorious his skiff at the foot of the precipice, and
self-sacrifice.  He resolves, therefore, to tear leaves her in agony and consternation.  The
all gentler feelings from his breast. and in one poet now proceeds to detail, a little more parlast interview to take an eternal farewell of ticularly, the history of his 14ro; and recounts
the maid who had captivated his soul. In his some of the absurd legends and miraculous
melancholy aspect she reads at once, with the attributes with which the fears of his enemies
instinctive sagacity of love, the tidings of their had invested his name.
approaching separation; and breaks out into
the following sweet and girlish repinings:        S  uch were the tales, that won belief,
O~~~ ~~And such the colouring fancy gave
"' I knew, I knew it could not last-             To a young, warm, and dauntless Chief,-'Twas bright,'twas heavenly-but'tis past!     One who, no more than mortal brave,
Oh! ever thus, from childhood's hour,         Fought for the land his soul ador'd,
I've seen my fondest hopes decay;              For happy homes and altars free;
I never lov'd a tree or flower,                His only talisman, the sword,But'twas the first to fade away.              His only spell-word, Liberty!
I never nurs'd a dear gazelle,'Twas not for him to crouch the knee
To glad me with its soft black eye,          Tamely to Moslem tyranny;But when it came to know me well,'Twas not for him, whose soul was cast
And love me, it was sure to die!            In the bright mould of ages past,
Now too-the joy most like divine               Whose melancholy spirit, fed
Of all I ever dreamt or knew,                With all the glories of the dead;To see thee, hear thee, call thee mine,-'Twas not for him, to svell the crowd
Oh mis'ry! must I lose that too?            Of slavish heads, that shrinking bow'd
Yet go!-on peril's brink we meet;-           Before the Moslem, as he pass'd,
Those frightful rocks-that treach'rous sea-  Like shrubs beneath the poison-blastNo, never come again-though sweet,             No-far he fled-indignant fled
Though heav'n, it may be death to thee.'"      The pageant of his country's shame
pp. 187, 188.    While every tear her children shed
Fell on his soul, like drops of flame;
When he smiles sternly at the idea of dan-   And, as a lover hails the dawn
ger, she urges him to join her father's forces,    Of a first smile, so welcom'd hb.e




454                                     POETRY.
The sparkle of the first sword drawn          When the blue waters rise and fall,
For vengeance and for liberty!"-pp. 206, 207.   In sleepy sunshine mantling all;
And ev'n that swell the tempest leaves
The song then returns to Hinda-              Is like the full and silent heaves
Of lover's hearts, when newly blest
"Whose life, as free from thought as sin,      Too newly to be quite at rest!Slept like a lake, till Love threw in           " Such was the golden hour that broke
His talisman, and woke the tide,              Upon the world, when Hinda woke
And spread its trembling circles wide.        From her long trance; and heard around
Once, Emir! thy unheeding child,              No motion but the water's sound
Mid all this havoc, bloom'd and smil'd,-      Rippling against the vessel's side,
Tranquil as on some battle-plain              As slow it mounted o'er the tide.The Persian lily shines and towers,         But where is she?-Her eyes are dark,
Before the combat's reddening stain           Are wilder'd still-is this the bark,
Has fall'n upon her golden flowers.         The same, that from Harmozia's bay
Far other feelings Love has brought-          Bore her at morn-whose bloody way
Her soul all flame, her brow all sadness," &c.  The sea-dog tracks?-No!-Strange and new
" Ah! not the Love, that should have bless'd  Is all that meets her wond'ring view
So young, so innocent a breast!              Upon a galliot's deck she lies,
Not the pure, open, prosp'rous Love,            Beneath no rich pavilion's shade,
That, pledg'd on earth and seal'd above,      No plumes to fan her sleeping eyes,
Grows in the world's approving eyes,            Nor jasmin on her pillow laid.
In friendship's smile, and horne's caress,  But the rude litter, roughly spread
Collecting all the hearts sweet ties          With war-cloaks, is her homely bed,
-Into one knot of happiness!"-pp. 215-217.    And shawl and sash, on javelins hung,
For awning o'er her head are flung."-p. 233-236
The Emir now learns, from  a recreant prisoner, the secret of the pass to the Ghebes   She soon discovers, in short, that she is a
retreat; and when he sees his daughter faint captive in the hands of the Ghebers! and
with horror at his eager anticipation of their shrinks with horror, when she finds that she
final extirpation, sends her, in a solitary gal- is to be carried to their rocky citadel, and to
ley, away from the scene of vengeance, to the the presence  of the terrible Hafed. The galquiet of her own Arabian home.
quiet of her own Arabian home.               ley is rowed by torchlight through frightful
rocks and foaming tides, into a black abyss
And does the long-left home she seeks       of the promontory, where her eyes are banLight up no gladness on her cheeks?        daged-and she is borne up a long and rugged
The flowers she nurs'd-the well-known groves, ascent, till at last she is desired to look up)
Where oft in dreams her spirit roves-       and receive her doom  from  the formidable
Once more to see her dear gazelles          chieftain. Before she has raised her eyes, the
Come bounding with their silver bells;
Her birds' new plumage to behold,           well known voice of her lover pronounces her
And the gay, gleaming fishes count,       name; and she finds herself alone in the arms
She left, all filleted with gold,           of her adoring Hafed! The first emotion is
Shooting around their jasper fount-       ecstasy.-But the recollection of her father's
Her little'garden mosque to see,            vow and means of vengeance comes like a
And once again, at ev'ning hour,          thundercloud on her joy;-she tells her love
To tell her ruby rosary,                    thundercloud on her oy; —he tells her lover
In her own sweet acacia bower.-           of the treachery by which he has been sacriCan these delights, that wait her now,      ficed; and urges him, with passionate eager
Call up no sunshine on her brow?           ness, to fly with her to some place of safety.
No-silent, frornher train apartAs if ev'n now   e felt at heart            "'Hafed, my own beloved Lord,'
The chill of her approaching doom —           She kneeling cries-' first, last ador'd!
She sits, all lovely in her gloom             If in that soul thou'st ever felt
As a pale Angel of the Grave." —pp. 227, 228.   Half what thy lips impassion'd swore,
Her vessel is first assailed by a violent   Here, on my knees, that never knelt
To any but their God before!
tempest, and, in the height of its fury, by a   I pray thee, as thou lov'st me, flyhostile bark; and her senses are extinguished    Now, now-ere yet their blades are nigh.
with terror in the midst of the double conflict.   Oh haste!-the bark that bore me hither
At last, both are appeased-and her recollec-      Can waft us o'er yon dark'ning sea
tion is slowly restored.  The following'        East-west-alas! I care not whither,.h.l pas-..  So thou art safe,-and I with thee!
sage appears to us extremely beautiful and    Go where we will, this hand in thine
characteristic:-                                  Those eyes before me beaming thus,
Through good and ill, through storm and shine1
How calm, how beautiful comes on                The world's a world of love for us!
The stilly hour. when storms are gone;        On some calm, blessed shore we'll dwell,
When warring winds have died away,            Where'tis no crime to love too well!And clouds, beneath the glancing ray,         Where thus to worship tenderly
Melt off, and leave the land and sea          An erring child of light like thee
Sleeping in bright tranquillity-              Will not be sin-or, if it be,
Fresh as if Day again were born,              Where we may weep our faults away,
Again upon the lap of Morn!                   Together kneeling, night and day,When,'stead of one unchanging breeze,      Thou, for my sake, at Alla's shrine,
There blow a thousand gentle airs,            And I-at any god's, for thine!'
And each a different perfume bears-         Wildly these passionate words she spokeAs if the loveliest plants and trees        Then hung her head, and wept for shame;
Had vassal breezes of their own             Sobbing, as if a heart-string broke
To watch and wait on them alone,              With ev'ry deep-heav'd sob that came.
And waft no other breath than theirs!                                     pp. 261, 262.




MOORE'S LALLA ROOKH.                                    45
Hafed is more shocked with the treachery    High burst in air the fun'ral flames,
to which he is sacrificed than with the fate to   And Iran's hopes and hers are o'er!
whiz h it consigns him:- One  moment he    One wild, heart-broken shriek she gavegives up to softness and pity-assures Hinda,        hen sprung, as if to reach that blaze,
Where still she fix'd her dying gaze,
with compassionate equivocation, that they    And, gazing, sunk into the wave!shall soon meet on some more peaceful shore   Deep, deep!-where never care or pain
— places her sadly in a litter, and sees her   Shall reach her innocent heart again!"
borne down the steep to the galley she had                                  pp. 283, 284.
lately quitted, and to which she still expects    This sad story is closed by a sort of choral
that he is to follow her.  He then assembles dirge, of great elegance and beauty, of which
his brave and devoted companions-warns we can only afford to give the first stanza.
them of the fate that is approaching-and exhorts them  to meet the host of the invaders "_Farewell-farewell to thee, Araby's daughter'
in the ravine, and sell their lives dearly to   (Thus warbled a Peri beneath the dark sea)
their steel. After a fierce, and somewhat too  No pearl ever lay, under Oman's green water,
sanguinary combat, the Ghebers are at last   More pure in its shell than thy Spirit in thee."
borne down by numbers; and Hafed finds
himself left alone, with one brave associate,   The general tone of this poem is certainly
mortally wounded like himself.  They make too much strained. It is overwrought througha desperate effort to reach and die beside the  out, and is too entirely made up of agonies
consecrated fire which burns for ever on the and raptures — but, in spite of all this, it is a
summit of the cliff.                          work of great genius and beauty; and not
only delights the fancy by its general bril"The crags are red's dripping with their gore-  liancy and spirit, but moves all the tender
The rock-weed's dripping with their gore —. 
Thy blade too, Hafed, false at length,      and noble feelings with a deep and powerful
Now breaks beneath thy tott'ring strength-  agitation.
Haste, haste!-the voices of the Foe           The last piece, entitled " The Light of the
Come near and nearer from below-            Haram," is the gayest of the whole; and is
One effort more-thank Ieav'n!'tis past,   of a very slender fabric as to fable or invenThey've gain'd the topmost steep at last,   tion.  In truth, it has scarcely any story at
And now they touch the temple's walls,          
Now Haled sees the Fire divine-           all; but is made up almost entirely of beauWhen, lo!-his weak, worn comrade falls     tiful songs and descriptions. During the sumDead, on the threshold of the Shrine.     mer months, when the court is resident in the'Alas! brave soul, too quickly fled!       Vale of Cashmere, there is, it seems, a sort of'And must I leave thee with'ring here,    oriental carnival, called the Feast of Roses,' The masport ofor every ruffianrd's tread r  during which every body is bound to be hap'No, by yon altar's sacred beams!'         py and in good humour.  At this critical peHe cries, and, with a strength that seems   riod, the Emperor Selim  had unfortunately a
Not of this world, uplifts the frame        little love-quarrel with his favourite Sultana
Of the fall'n chief, and tow'rds the flame  Nourmahal, —which  signifies, it seems, the
Bears him along!-With death-damp hand      Light of the Haram.  The lady is rather unThe corpse upon the pyre he lays;         happy while the sullen fit is on her; and apThen lights the consecrated brand,
And fires the pile, whose sudden blaze    plies to a sort of enchantress, who invokes a
Like lightning bursts o'er Oman's Sea -     musical spirit to teach her an irresistible song,'Now Freedom's God! I come to Thee!'       which she sings in a mask to the offended
The youth exclaims, and with a smile        monarch; and when his heart is subdued by
InOf triumph, vaust   lting on the pile,    its sweetness, throws off her mask, and springs
In that last effort, ere the fires
Have harm'd one glorious limb, expires!"   with fonder welcome than ever into his repp. 278, 279.   pentant arms.  The whole piece is written in
a kind of rapture,-as if the author had
The unfortunate Hinda, whose galley had breathed nothing but intoxicating gas during
been detained close under the cliff by the its composition.  It is accordingly quite filled
noise of the first onset, had heard with agony  with lively images and splendid expressions,
the sounds which marked the progress and  and all sorts of beauties,-except those of re.
catastrophe of the fight, and is at last a spec- serve or simplicity.  We must give a few
tatress of the lofty fate of her lover.       specimens, to revive the spirits of our readers
" But see-what moves upon the height?        after the tragic catastrophe of Hafed; and we
Some signal!-'tis a torch's light.         may begin with this portion of the description
What bodes its solitary glare?           of the Happy Valley.
In gasping silence tow'rd the shrine
All eyes are turn'd-thine, Hinda, thine     "Oh! to see it by moonlight,-when mellowly
Fix their last failing life-beams there!           shines'Twas but a moment-fierce and high          The light o'er its palaces, gardens and shrines;
The death-pile blaz'd into the sky,         When the waterfalls gleam like a quick fall of stars.
And far away o'er the rock and flood        And the nightingale's hymn from the Isle of Chenari
Its melancholy radiance sent;             Is broken by laughs and light echoes of feet,
While Hafed, like a vision, stood           From the cool shining walks where the young peo
Reveal'd before the burning pyre!                   ple meet.Tall, shadowy, like a Spirit of Fire         Or at morn, when the magic of daylight awakes
Shrin'd in its own grand element!        A new wonder each minute, as slowly it breaks,'Tis he!'-the shuddering maid exclaims,    Hills, cupolas, fountains, caIl'd forth every one
But, while she speaks, he's seen no more!    Out of darkness, as they were just born of the [Sun




456                                       POETRY.
When the Spirit of Fragrance is up with the day,' Then come! thy Arab maid will be
From his Haram of night-flowers stealing away;     The lov'd and lone acacia-tree,
And the wind, full of' wantonness, woes like a lover  The antelope, whose feet shall bless
The young aspen-trees till they tremble all over.  With their light sound thy loneliness!
When the East is as warm as the light of first hopes,  Come! if the love thou hast for me
And Day, with his banner of radiance unfurl'd,   Is pure and fresh as        for thee,Shines in through the mountainous portal that opes,e and resh as     mine for thee,Sublime, from that Valley of bliss to the world!"  When first'tis by the lapwing found
p. 296.
p. 296.      When first'tis by the lapwing found.
The character of Nourmahal's beauty is'But if for me thou dost forsake
Some other maid,-and rudely break
much in the same taste: though the diction         Her worshipp'd image from its base,
is rather more loose and careless.                 To give to me the ruin'd place:"There's a beauty, for ever unchangingly bright,' Then, fare thee well!-I'd rather make
Like the long sunny lapse of a summers day's       My bow'r upon some icy lake
light,                                     When thawing suns begin to shine,
Shining oil, shining on, by no shadow made tender,  Than trust to love so false as thine!'"
Till Love falls asleep in its sameness of splendour.
This was not the beauty-oh! nothing like this,   This strain, and the sentiment which is
That t6 young Nourmahal gave such magic of bliss; embodies, reminded the offended monarch cf
But that loveliness, ever in motion, which plays    his charming Nourmahal; and he names hei
Like the light upon autumn's soft shadowy days,
Now here and now there, giving warmth as it flies
From the lips to the cheek, from the cheek to the    "The mask is off-the charm is wrought'
eyes,                                      And Selim to his heart has caught,
Now melting in mist and now breaking in gleams,    In blushes more than ever bright,
Like the glimpses a saint has of Heav'n in his     His Nourmahal, his Haram's Light! "
dreams!                                                                     p. 334.
When pensive, it seem'd as if that very grace,
That charm of all others, was born with her face.  We have now  said enough, and show,,
Then her mirth —oh!'twas sportive as ever took enough, of this book, to let our readers unwing    --                  [spring; —  derstand both what it is and what we think
From the heart with a burst, like the wild-bird in             at 
Illum'd by a wit that would fascinate sages,  of it. Its great fault certainly is its excessive
Illum'd by a wit that would fascinate sages,
Yet playful as Peris just loos'd from their cages.   finery, and its great charm the inexhaustible
While her laugh, full of life, without any controul  copiousness of its imagery-the sweetness and
But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung fromn her ease of its diction-and the beauty of the obsoul;                          [cover, jects and sentiments with which it is conAnd where it most sparkl'd no glance could dis- cerned. Its finery, it should also be observed,
In lip, cheek or eyes, for she brighten'd all over,-  is not the vulgar ostentation which so often
Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon,    is not the    vulgar  o stentation which so often
When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun." disguises poverty or meanness-but the expp. 302, 303.   travagance of excessive wealth.  We have
We can give but a little morsel of the en- said this, however, we believe before-and
chanting Song of the Spirit of Music.          suspect we have little more to say.
All poets, who really love poetry, and live
"'For mine is the lay that lightly floats,     in a poetical age, are great imitators; and
And mine are the murm'ring dying notes,        the character of their writings may often be
That fall as soft as snow on the sea,
Thand melt in the heartll as soft as snow on the sea, as correctly ascertained by observing whom
And melt in the heart as instantly!
And the passionate strain that, deeply going,  they imitate and whom  they abstain from
Refines the bosom it trembles through,       imitating, as from  any thing  else.  Mr.
As the musk-wind, over the water blowing,      Moore, in the volume before us, reminds us
Ruffles the wave, but sweetens it too!      oftener of Mr. Southey and Lord Byron, than'The warrior's heart, when touch'd by me,      of any other of his contemporaries.  The re
Can as downy soft and as yielding be           semblance is sometimes to the Roderick of
As his own white plume, that high amid death   the first-mentioned author, but most frequent
Through the field has shone —yet moves with a ly to his Kehama. This may be partly owing
And, oh, how the eyes of Beauty glisten, [breath. to the nature of the subject; but, in many
When Music has reach'd her inward soul,
Like-the silent stars that wink and glisten,   passages, the coincidence seems to be more
While Heav'n's eternal melodies roll!'"     radical-and to indicate a considerable conpp. 318, 319.   formity, in taste and habits of conception.'
Nourmahal herself, however, in her Arabian  Mr. Southey's tone, indeed, is more assum.
disguise, sings a still more prevailing ditty — ing, his manner more solemn, and his dicti6n
weaker.  Mr. Moore is more  lively —his
Df which we can only insert a few stanzas.  figures and images come   more thively;  and
figures and images come more thickly; and
"' Fly to the desert, fly with me!           his language is at once more familiar, and
Our Arab tents are rude for thee;          more strengthened with points and antitheses.
But oh! the choice what heart can doubt   In other respects, the descriptive passages in
O  s  e o    t n   th   Kehama bear a remarkable affinity to many'Our rocks are rough; but smiling there    in the work before us-in the brightness of
Th' acacia waves her yellow hair,
Lonely and sweet-nor lov'd the less        the colouring, and the amplitude and beauty
For flow'ring in a wilderness!            of the details. It is in his descriptions of love,'Our sands are bare; but down their slope  and of female loveliness, that there is the
The silv'ry-footed antelope                strongest resemblance to Lord Byron-at least
As gracefully and gaily springs            to the larger poems of that noble author. hI
As o'er the marble courts of Kings.        the powerful and condensed expression oa




WORDSWORTH'S EXCURSION.                                    457
strong emotion, Mr. Moore seems to us rather   There is one other topic upon which we are
to have imitated the tone of his Lordship's not quite sure we should say any thing.  On
smaller pieces-but imitated them as only an a former occasion, we reproved Mr. Moore,
original genius could imitate-as Lord Byron perhaps with unnecessary severity, for what
himself may be said, in his later pieces, to  appeared to us the licentiousness of some of
have imitated those of an earlier date. There his youthful productions.  We think it a duty
is less to remind us of Scott than we can very to say, that he has long ago redeemed that
well account for, when we consider the great error; and that in all his latter works that
range and variety of that most fascinating and have come under our observation, he appears
powerful writer; and we must say, that if as the eloquent champion of purity, fidelity,
Mr. Moore could bring the resemblance a and delicacy, not less than of justice, liberty,
little closer, and exchange a portion of his su- and honour.  Like most other poets, indeed,
perfluous images and ecstasies for an equiva- he speaks much of beauty and love; and we
lent share of Mr. Scott's gift of interesting and doubt not that many mature virgins and caredelighting us with pictures of familiar nature, ful matrons may think his lucubrations on
and of the spirit and energy which never rises those themes too rapturous and glowing to be
to extravagance, we think he would be a safely admitted among the private studies of
gainer by the exchange.  To Mr. Crabbe youth.  We really think, however, that there
there is no resemblance at all; and we only is not much need for such apprehensions:
mention his name to observe, that he and Mr. And, at all events, if we look to the moral
Moore seem to be the antipodies of our present design and scope of the works themselves, we
poetical sphere; and to occupy the extreme can see no reason to censure the author. All
points of refinement and homeliness that can his favourites, without exception, are dutiful,
be said to fall within the legitimate dominion  faithful, and self-denying; and no other exof poetry.  They could not meet in the mid- ample is ever set up for imitation.  There is
die, we are aware, without changing their na- nothing approaching to indelicacy even in his
tare, and losing their specific character; but description of the seductions by which they
each might approach a few degrees, we think, are tried; and they who object to his enchantwith great mutual advantage.  The outposts ing pictures of the  beauty and pure attachof all empires are posts of peril: —though  ment of the more prominent characters would
we do not dispute that there is great honour find fault, we suppose, with the loveliness and
in maintaining them with success.             the embraces of angels.
(XNovmber, 181i.)
f~e Excursion; being a Portion of the Recluse, a Poem.   By WILLIAM  WORDSWORTH.
4to. pp. 447. London: 1814.*
THIS will never do! It bears no doubt the  unfortunately not half so visibly as that of his
stamp of the author's heart and fancy: But peculiar system.  His former poems were
* I have spoken in many places rather too bit-   I finally resolved, therefore, to reprint my review
terly and confidently of the faults of Mr. Words- of" The Excursion;" which contains a pretty full
worth's patry: And forgetting that, even on my 1 view of my griefs and charges against Mr. Words
own view pf them, they were but faults.of taste, or worth; set forth too, I believe, in a more temperate
venial self artiality, have sometimes visited them, strain than most of my other inculpations,-and of
I fear, wit hn asperity which should be reserved  which I think I may now venture to say farther
for objects f Moral reprobation. If I were now to  that if the faults are unsparingly noted, the beauties
deal with thb whole question of his poetical merits, are not penuriously or grudgingly allowed; but
though my  dgment might not be substantially  commended to the admiration of the reader with at
different, I hpe I should repress the greater part least as much heartiness and good-will.
of these viva tes of expression: And indeed so    But I have also reprinted a short paper on the
strong has bee my feeling in this way, that, con- same author's " White Doe of Rylstone," —in
sidering how mi ch I have- always loved many of  which there certainly is no praise, or notice of
the attributes or his Genius, and how entirely I beauties, to set against the very unqualified cen
respect his Char ter, it did at first occur to me sures of which it is wholly made up. I have done
whether it was qui fitting that, in my old age and  this, however, not merely because I adhere to these
his, I should includeXirn this publication any of those censures, but chiefly because it seemed necessary
critiques which may have formerly given pain or to bring me fairly to issue with those who may not
offence, to him or his dmirers. But, when I re- concur in them. I can easily understand that many
flected that the mischi, if there really ever was whose admiration of the Excursion, or the Lyrical
any, was long ago done, and that I still retain, in  Ballads, rests substantially on the passages which I
substance, the opinions  hich I should now like  too should join in admiring, may view with greater
to have seen more gently xpressed, I felt that to  indulgence than J can do, the tedious and flat pasomit all notice of them o  the present occasion, sages with which they ate interspersed, and may
might be held to import a etractation which I am  consequently think my censure of these works a
as far as possible from intending; or even be rep- great deal too harsh and uncharitable. Between
resented as a very shabby, way of backing out of such persons and me, therefore, there may be no
sentiments which should either be manfully per- radical difference of opinion, or contrariety as to
sisted in, or openly renounced, and abandoned as principles of judgment. But if there be any who
untenable.                                     actually admire this White Doe of Rylstone, or




458                                   POETRY.
intended to recommend that system, and to we perceive, is now manifestly nopeless; aund
bespeak favour for it by their individual we give him up as altogether incurable. and
merit; —but this, we suspect, must be recomn- beyond the power of criticism. We cannot
mended by the system -and can only expect indeed altogether omit taking precautions
to succeed where, it has been previously estab- now and then against the spreading of the
lished. It is longer, weaker, and tamer, than malady;-but for himself, though we shall
any of Mr. Wordsworth's other productions; watch the progress of his symptoms as a matwith less boldness of originality and less ter of professional curiosity and instruction,
even of that extreme simplicity and lowliness we really think it right not to harass him any
of tone which wavered so prettily, in the longer with nauseous remedies,-but rather
Lyrical Ballads, between silliness and pathos. to throw in cordials and lenitives, and wait in
We have imitations of Cowper, and even of patience for the natural termination of the
Milton here; engrafted on the natural drawl of disorder. In order to justify this desertion!the Lakers —and all diluted into harmony by of our patient, howovec-itisproper to state
that profuse and irrepressible wordiness which why we despair of the success of a more
deluges all the blank verse of this school of'active practice.
poetry, and lubricates and weakens the whole   A man who has been for twenty years at
structure of their style.                  work on such matter as is now before us,
Though it fairly fills four hundred and and who comes complacently forward with a
twenty good quarto pages, without note, vig- whole quarto of it, after all the admonitions
nette, or any sort of extraneous assistance, it he has received, cannot reasonably be exis stated in the title-with something of an pected to "change his hand, or check his
imprudent candour-to be but "a portion'" of pride,"' upon the suggestion of far weightier
a larger work; and in the preface, where an monitors than we can pretend to be. Inveteattempt is rather unsuccessfully made to ex- rate habit must now have given a kind of
plain the whole design, it is still more rashly sanctity to the errors of early taste; and the
disclosed, that it is but " a part of the second very powers of which we lament the perverpart, of a long and laborious work" —which sion, have probably become incapable of any
is to consist of three parts!             other application.  The very quantity, too,
What Mr. Wordsworth's ideas of length are, that he has written, and is at this moment
we-have no means of accurately judging: But working up for pfiblication upon the old patwe cannot help suspecting that they are libe- tern, makes it almost hopeless to look for any
ral, to a degree that will alarm the weakness change of it.  All this is so much capital
of most modern readers. As far as we can already sunk in the concern; which must be
gather from the preface, the entire poem-  sacrificed if that be abandoned; and no man
br one of them, (for we really are not sure likes to give up for lost the time and talent
wvhether there is to be one or two,) is of a and labour which he has embodied in any
biographical nature; and is to contain the permanent production.  We'were not prehistory of the author's mind, and of the origin viously aware of these obstacles to Mr. Wordsand progress of his poetical powers, up to the worth's conversion; and, considering the pecuperiod when they were sufficiently matured liarities of his former writings merely as the
to qualify him for the great work on which result of certain wanton and capricious exhe has been so long employed. Now, the periments on public taste and indulgence,
quarto before us contains an account of one conceived it to be our duty to discourage their
of his youthful rambles in the vales of Cumr- repetition by all the means in our power
brland, and occupies precisely the period of We'now see clearly, however, how the case
the days! So' that, by the use of a very stands;-and, making up 4ur minds, though
pverful calculus, some estimate may be with the most sincere pain and reluctance,
formed of the probable extent of the entire to consider him  as finally lost to the good
biography.                                 cause of poetry, shall endeavour to be thank2This small specimen, however, and the ful for the occasional gleams of tenderness
statements with which it is prefaced, have and beauty which the natural force of his
Nen sufficient to set our minds at rest in one imagination and affections must still shed
piarticular.  The case of Mr. Wordsworth, over all his productions,-and to which we
shall ever turn with delight, in spite of the
Peter Bell the Waggoner, or the Lamentations of affectation and mysticism and prolixity, with
Martha Rae, or the Sonnets on the Punishment of
Death, there can be no such ambiguity, or means   they are so abundantly contrasted.
of reconcilement. Now I have been assured not   Long habits of seclusion. and an excessive!
only that there are such persons, but that almost ambition of originality, can alone account for]
all those who seek to exalt Mr. Wordsworth as the the disproportion which seems to exist befounder of a new school of poetry, consider these tween this author's taste and his genius; or
as by far his best and most characteristic produc- for the devotion with which he has sacrificed
tions; and would at once reject from their communion any one who did not acknowledge in them  so many precious gifts at the shrine of those
the traces of a high inspiration.  Now I wish it to paltry idols which he has set up for himself
be understood, that when I speak with general among his lakes and his mountains. Solitary
intolerance or impatience of the school of' Mr. musings. amidst such scenes, might no doubt
Wordsworth. it is to the school holding these be expected to nurse up the mind to the matenets, and applying these tests, that I refer: and I
really do not see how I could better explain the jesty of poetical conceptiong-(though it is
grounds of my dissent from their doctrines, than remarkable, that all the greater poets lived,
by republishing my remarks on this "White Doe.' or had lived, in the full current of society):



WORDSWORTH'S EXCURSION.                               453
But, the collision of equal minds,-the ad- as a tissue of moral and devotional ravings, ir.
monition of prevailing impressions-seems which innumerable changes are rung upon a
necessary to reduce its redundancies, and re- few very simple, and familiar ideas:-But
press that tendency to extravagance or pueril- with such an accompaniment of long words,
ity, into which the self-indulgence and self- long sentences, and unwieldy phrases-and
admiration of genius is so apt to be betrayed, such a hubbub of strained raptures and fanwhet. it is allowed to wanton, without awe or tastical sublimities, that it is often difficult for
restraint, in the triumph and delight of its the mpst skilful and attentive student to obown intoxication. That its flight should be tain a glimpse of the author's meaning- and
graceful and glorious in the eyes of men, it altogether impossible for an ordinary readei.
seems almost to be necessary that they should to conjecture what he is about. Moral and rebe mad 3 in the consciousness that men's eyes ligious enthusiasm, though undoubtedly poet.
are to behold them,-and that the-inward ical emotions, are at the same time but dantransport and vigour by which they are in- gerous inspirers of poetry; nothing being so
spired. should be tempered by an occasional apt to run into interminable dulness or rnellireference to what will be thought of them by fluous extravagance, without giving the unforthose ultimate dispensers of glory. An habit- tunate author the slightest intimation of his
ual and general knowledge of the few settled, danger.. His laudable zeal for the efficacy of
and permanent maxims, which form the canon his preachments, he very naturally mistakes
of general taste in all large and polished so- for the ardour of poetical inspiration;-and,
cieties-a certain' tact, which informs us at while dealing out the high words and glowonce that many things, which we still love ing phrases which are so readily supplied by
and are moved by in secret. must necessarily themes of this description, can scarcely avoid
be despised as childish, or derided as absurd, believing that he is eminently original and
in all such societies-though it will not stand impressive:-All sorts of commonplace noin the place of genius, seems necessary to the tions and expressions are sanctified in his
success of its exertions; and though it wsill eyes, by the sublime ends for which they are
never enable any one to produce the higher employed; and the mystical verbiage of the
beauties of art, can alone secure the talent Methodist pulpit is repeated, till the speaker
which does produce them  from errors that entertains no doubt that he is the chosen
must render it useless. Those who have mqst organ of divine truth and persuasion. But if
of the talent. however, commonly acquire this such be the common hazards of seeking inknowledge with the greatest facility;-and if spiration from those potent fountains, it may
Mr. Wordsworth, instead of confining himself easily be conceived what chance Mr..Wordsalmost entirely to the society of the dalesmen worth had of escaping their enchantment,sand cottagers, and little children, who form  with his natural propensities to wordiness,
the subjects of his book, had condescended and his unlucky habit of debasing. pathos
to mingle a little more with the people that with vulgarity. The fact accordingly is, that
were to read Wd judge of it; we cannot help in this production he is more obscure than a
thinking that its t4ture might have been Pindaric poet of the seventeenth century;
considerably improVed: At least it appears tQ and more verbose Nathan even himself of
us to be absolutely impossible, that any-one yore;j] while the wilfuiness with which he
who had lived or mixed familiarly with men, persists in choosing his examples of intellecof literature and ordinary judgment in poetry, tual dignity and tenderness exclusively from
(of course we exclude the coadjutors and dis- the lowest ranks of society, will be sufficiently
ciples of his own school,) could ever have apparent, from the circumstance of his having
fallen into such gross faults, or so lohg mis- thought fit to make his chief prolocutor in this
taken them for beauties. His first essays we poetical dialogue, and chief advocate of Provlooked upon in a good degree as poetical idence and Virtue, an old Scotch Pedlar —reparadoxes, -maintained experimentally, in tired indeed from business-but still rambling
order to display talent, and court notoriety;-  about in his former haunts, and gossiping
and so maintained, with no more serious be- among his old customers, without his pack
lief in their truth, than is usually generated on his shoulders. The other persons of the
by. an ingenious and animated defence of drama are, a retired military chaplain, who
3ther paradoxes. But when we find that he has grown half an atheist and half a misanhas been for twenty years exclusively em- thrope-the wife of an unprosperous weaver
ployed upon articles of this very fabric, and -a servant girl with her natural child-a
that he has still enough of raw material on parish pauper, and one or two other personhand to keep him  so employed for twenty ages of equal rank and dignity.
years to come, we cannot refuse him the jus-   The character of the work is decidedly
tiee of believing that he is a sincere convert didactic; and more than nine tenths of it are
to his own system, and must ascribe the occupied with a species of dialogue, or rather
/peculiarities of his composition, not to any a series of long sermons or harangues which
transient affectation, or accidental caprice of pass between the pedlar, the author, the old
unagination, but to a settled perversity of chaplain, and a worthy vicar, who entertains
taste or understanding, which has been fos- the whole party at dinner on the last day of
tered, if not altogether created, by the cir- their excursion. The incidents which occur
cumstances to which we have alluded.      in the course of it are as few and trifling as
The volume before us. if we were to de- can well be imagined; —and those which the
scribe it very shortly, we'should characterise different speakers narrate in the course of




160                                   POETRY.
their discourses, are int:oduced rather to il- rural scenery and open air, that when he -was
lustrate their arguments or opinions, than for sent to teach a school in a neighbouring vilany interest they are supposed to possess of lage, he found it "a misery to him;" and
their own.The doctrine which the work is determined to embrace the more romantic oce
intended to enforce, we are by no means cer- cupation of a Pedlar-or, as Mr. Wordsworth
tain that we have discovered. In so far as more musically expresses it,
we can collect, however, it seems to be neither   "A vagrant merchant, bent beneath his load;"
more nor less than the old familiar one, that
a firm belief in the providence of a wise and -and in the course of his peregrinations had
beneficent Being must be our great stay and acquired a very large acquaintance, which,
support under all afflictions and perplexities after he had given up dealing, he fiequently
upon earth-and that there are indications of took a summer ramble to visit.
his power and goodness in all the aspects of   The author, on coming up to this interestthe visible universe, whether living or inani- ing personage, finds him  sitting with his eyes
mate-every part of which should therefore half shut — and, not being quite sure whether
be regarded with love and reverence, as ex- he is asleep or awake. stands " some minutes'
ponents of those great attributes. We can space" in silence beside him.- "At length,"
testify; at least, that these salutary and im- says he, with his own delightful simplicityportant truths are inculcated at far greater,, At length I hail'd him-seeing that his hat
length, and with more repetitions, than in any    Was moist with water-drops, as if the brim
ten volumes of sermons that we ever perused.   Had newly scoop'd a running stream!It is also maintained, with equal conciseness   -.' "'is,' said I,'a burning day!
and originality, that there is frequently much   My lips are parch'd with thirst;-but you, I guess,
good sense, as well as much enjoyment, in   Have somewhere found relief' "
the humbler conditions of life; and that, in Upon this, the benevolent old man points
spite of great vices and abuses, there is a rea- him out, not a running stream, but a well in
sonable allowance both of happiness and good- a corner) to which the author repairs; and,
iess in society at large. If there be any deeper after minutely describing its situation beyond
or more recondite doctrines in Mr. Words- a broken wall, and between two alders that
worth's book, we must confess that they have "grew in a cold damnp nook," he thus faithescaped us; —and, convinced as we are of the fully chronicles the process of his return:truth and soundness of those to which we
have alluded, we cannot help thinking that " My thirst I slak'd; and from the cheerless spot
they might have been better enforced with   Withdrawing, straightway to the shade return'd,
lass parade and prolixity. His effusions oil   Where sate the old man on the cottage bench."
hat may be called the physiognomy of ex-   The Pedlar then gives an account of the
rnal nature, or its moral and theological ex- last inhabitants of the deserted cottage beside
p ession, are eminently fantastic, obscure, and them. These were, a good industrious weaver
affected.-It is quite time, however, that we and his wife and children. They were very
should'give the reader a more particular ac- happy for a while; till sickness and want of
count of this singular performance.         work came upon them; and then the father
It opens with a picture of the author toiling enlisted as a soldier, and the wife pined in
across a bare common in a hot summer day, that lonely cottage-growing every year more
and reaching at last a ruined hut surrounded careless and desponding, as her anxiety and
with tall trees, where he meets by appoint- fears for her absent husband, of whom no timent with a hale old man, with an iron-point- dings ever reached her, accumulated. Her
ed staff lying beside him. Then follows a children died, and left her cheerless and
retrospective account of their first acquaint- alone; and at last she died also; and the cotance-formed, it seems, when the author was tage fell to decay. We must say, that there
at a village school; and his aged friend occu- is very considerable pathos in the.telling'of
pied "one room,-the fifth part of a house" this simple story; and that they who can get
in the neighbourhood. After this, we have over the repugnance excited by the triteness
the history of this reverend person at no small of its incidents, and the lowness of its objects,
length. He was born, we are happy to find, will not fail to be struck with'the author's
in Scotland-among the hills of Athol; and knowledge of the human heart, and the power
his mother, after his father's death, married he possesses of stirring up its deepest and
the  parish  schoolmaster-so that he was gentlest sympathies.  His prolixity indeed, it
taught his letters betimes: But then, as it is is not so easy to get over. This little story
here set forth with much solemnity,        fills about twenty-five quarto pages; and
"From his sixth year, the boy of whom I speak,   abounds, of course, with mawkish sentiment,
In summer, tended cattle on the hills!"  and details of preposterous minuteness When
the tale is told, the travellers take their staffs,
And again, a few pages after, that there may and end their first day's journey, without fur.
be no risk of mistake as to a point of such es- ther adventure, at a little inn.
sential importance —                          The Second-Book sets them forward betimes
"From early childhood,even, as hath been said,  in the morning.  They pass by a Village
From his sixth year, he had been sent abroad,   Wake; and as they approach a more solitary
In summer-to tend herds! Such was his task! "
pairt of the mountains, the old man tells the
In the course of this occupation it is next author that he is taking him  to see an old
recorded, that he acquired such a taste for friend of his, who had formerly been chaplain




WORDSWORTHI'S EXCURSION.                              4,60
to a Highland regiment-had lost a beloved preferred marrying a prudent middle-aged
wife-been roused from his dejection by the. woman to'take care of them.
first enthusiasm of the French Revolution-    In the beginning of the Eighth Book, the
had emigrated on its miscarriage, to America worthy Vicar expresses, in the words of Mr.
-and returned disgusted to hide himself in Wordsworth's own epitome, "his apprehenthe retreat to which they were now ascending. sions that he had detained his auditors too
That retreat is then most tediously described long —invites them to his house-Solitary, dis.
-a smooth green valley in the heart of the inclined to comply, rallies the Wanderer, and
mountain. without trees, and with only one sornewhat playfully draws a comparison bedwelling. Just as they get sight of it from  tween his itinerant profession and that of a
the ridge above, they see a funeral train pro- knight-errant-which leads to the Wanderer
ceeding from the solitary abode, and hurry on giving an account of changes in the country,
with some apprehension for the fate of the from the.manufacturing spirit-Its favourable
amiable misanthrope-whom they find, how- effects —Thq other side of the picture," &c.
ever, in very tolerable condition at. the door &c. After these very poetical themes are
and learn that the funeral was thbaTf an aged exhausted, they all go into the house, where
pauper who had been boarded'out by the they are introduced to the Vicar's wife and
parish in that cheap farm-house, and had died daughter; and while they sit chatting in the
in consequence of long exposure to heavy rain. par]our over a family dinner, his son and one
The old chaplain, or, as Mr. Wordsworth is of his companions come in with a fine dish
pleased to call him, the Solitary, tells this of trouts piled on a blue slate; and after being
dull story at prodigious length;. and after caressed by the company, are sent to dinner
giving an inflated description of an effect of in the nursery.-This ends the eighth book.
mountain mists in the evening sun, treats his   The Ninth and last is chiefly occupied with
visitors with a rustic dinner-and they walk a mystical.discourse of the Pedlar; who mainout to the fields at the close of the second tains, that the whole universe is animated by
book.                                     an active principle. the noblest seat of which
The Third makes no progress in the excur- is in the human soul; and moreover, that the
sion. It is entirely filled with moral and re- final end of old age is to train and enable us
ligious conversation and debate, and with a "To hear the mighty stream of Tendency
more ample detail of the Solitary's past life   Uttering, for elevation of our thought,
than had been given in the sketch of his   A clear sonorous voice, inaudible
friend. The conversation is, in our judgment,   To the vast multitude whose doom it is
exceedingly dull and mystical; and the Soli-   To run the giddy round of vain delight-"
tary's confessions insufferably diffuse. Yet with other matters as luminous and emphatic.
there is occasionally very considerable force The hostess at length breaks off the harangue,
of writing and tenderness of sentiment in this by proposing that they should all make a little
part of the work.                         excursion on the lake,-and they embark acThe Fourth Book is also filled with dia- cordingly; and, after navigating for some time
logues, ethical, and theological; and, with the along its shores, and drinking tea on a little
exception of some brilliant and forcible ex- island, land at last on a remote promontory
pressions here and there, consists of an expo- from which they see the sun go down,-and
sition of truisms, more cloudy, wordy, and listen to a solemn and pious, but rather long
inconceivably prolix, than any thing we ever prayer from the Vicar. They then walk back
met with.                                 to the parsonage door, where the author and
In the beginning of the Fifth Book, they his friend propose to spend the evening;-but
leave the solitary valley, taking its pensive the Solitary prefers walking back in the mooninhabitant along with them, and stray on to shine to his own valley, after promising to
where the landscape sinks down into milder take another ramble with themfeatures, till they arrive at a church, which
stands on a moderate elevation in the centre   "If time, with free consent, be yours to give,
of a wide and fertile vale. Here they medi-         season favours."
tate for a while among the monuments, till -And here the publication somewhat abruptthe Vicar comes out and joins them;-and  ly closes.
recognising the Pedlar for an old acquaint-   Our abstract of the story has been so ex.
ance mixes graciously in the conversation, tremely concise, that it is more than usually
which proceeds in a very edifying manner till necessary for us to lay some specimens of the
the close of the book.                    work itself before our readers. Its grand
The Sixth contains a choice obituary, or staple, as we.a-malready said, consists of a
characteristic account of several of the per- kind of mystical morality: and the chief charsons who lie buried before this group of moral- acteristics of the style are, that it is prolix and
isers; -an unsuccessful lover, who had found very frequently unintelligible: and though  we
consolation in natural history —a miner, who are sensible that no great gratification is to be
worked on for twenty years, in despite of uni- expected from the exhibition of those qualiversal ridicule, and at last found the vein he ties, yet it is necessary to give our readers a
had expected-two political enemies recon- taste of them, both to justify the sentence we
oiled in old age to each other-an old female have passed, and to satisfy them that it was
miser-a seduced damsel-and two widpw- really beyond our power to present them with
ers, one who had devoted himself to the edu- any abstract or intelligible account of those
cation  of his daughters, and one who had long conversations which'we have had sc




162                                     PFOETRY.
much o-casion to notice in our brief sketch    Too, too contracted are these walls of flesh,
of its contents.  We need give ourselves no    This vital warmth too cold, these visual orbs,
trouble, however, to select passages for this   Though inconceivably endow'd, too dim
For any passion of the soul that leads
purpose. Here is the first that presents itself   To ecstasy! and, all the crooked paths
to us on opening the volume; and if our read-   Of time and change disdaining, takes its course
ers can form the slightest guess at its mean-   Alone the line of limitless desires.
ing, we must give them  credit for a sagacity   I, speaking now from such disorder free,
to which we have no pretension.                  Nor sleep, nor craving, but in settled peace,
I cannot doubt that I hey whom you deplore
"But, by the storms of circumstance unshaken,    Are glorified." —pp. 148, 149.
And subject neither to eclipse or wane,
Duty exists;-immutably survive,                If any farther specimen be wanted of the
For our support, the measures and the forms,   learned author's propensity to deal out the
Which an abstract Intelligence supplies;  [nQt: most familiar truths as the oracles of his own
Whose kingdom is, where Time and Space are inspired understanding, the following wordy
Of other converse, which mind, soul, and heart, paraphrase of the ordinary remark, that the
Do, with united urgency, require,            best consolation in distress is to be found in
What more, that may not perish T"
the exercises of piety. and the testimony of a
"'Tis, by comparison, an easy task         g
garth to despise; but to converse with Heav'n,  gooa conscience, may be found on turning the
Phis is not easy:-to relinquish all        leaf.
WVe have, or hope, of happiness and oy,-      What then remains -To seek
And stand in freedom loosen'. from this world;    Those helps, for his occasions ever near,; deem not arduous!-but must needs confess  Those helps, for his occasions ever near,
k deem no: srduous!-but mlest needs confess   Who lacks not will to use them; vows, renew'd
hat'tis a Cuing impossible to frame          On the first motion of a holy thought;
pponc equal  to the Soul's desires."  Vigils of contemplation: praise; and pray'r,
*     A Stream, which, from the fountain of the heart
This is a fair sample of that rapturous mys-   Issuing however feebly, no where flows.icism  which eludes all comprehension, and    Without access of unexpected strength.
fils thedespirin reaude  er witeheaionf gidd-.But, above all, the victory is most sure
fills the despairing reader with painful giddi-   For Him who, seeking faith by virtue, strives
ness and terror.  The following, which we    To yield entire submission to the law
meet with on the very next page, is in the    Of Conscience; Conscience reverenc'd and obey'd
same general strain:-though the first part of   As God's most intimate Presence in the soul,
it affords a good specimen of the author's   And his most perfect Image in the world."
talent for enveloping a plain and trite obser-                                       p. 151.
vation in all the mock majesty of solemn ver-   We have kept the book too long open, howbosity.  A reader of plain understanding, we ever, at one place, and shall now take a dip
suspect, could hardly recognise the familiar in it nearer the beginning. Ti-fellowing acremark, that excessive grief for our departed  count of the Pedlar's early training, and lonely
friends is not very consistent With a firm be- meditations among the mountains, is a good
lief in their immortal felicity, in the first,example of the forced and affected ecstasies
twenty lines of the following passage:-In the in which this author abounds.
succeeding lines we do not ourselves pretendNor did e fail,
to recognise any thing.                                  -"  Nor did he fail,
to recognise any thing.                          While yet a Child, with a Child's eagerness
" From this infirmity of mortal kind             Incessantly to turn his ear and eye
Sorrow proceeds, which else were not;-at least,   On all things which the moving seasons brought
If Grief be something hallow'd and ordain'd,   To feed such appetite: nor this alone
If, in proportion, it be just and meet,        Appeas'd his yearning: —in the after day
Through this,'tis able to maintain its hold,  Of Boyhood, many an hour in caves fororn,
In that excess which Conscience disapproves.   And'mid the hollow depths of naked crags,
For who could sink and settle to that point    He sate, and even in their fix'd lineaments,
Of selfishness; so senseless wl could be       Or from the pow'r of a peculiar eye,
In framing estimates of loss an'rgain,         Or by creativefeeling overborne,
As long and perseveringly to mourn             Or by predominance of thought oppress'd,
For any object of his love, remov'd            Ev'n in their fix'd and steady lineaments
From this unstable world, if he could fix      He trac'd an ebbing and a flowing mind."-p. 11.
A satisfying view upon that state              We should like extremely to know what is
Of pure, imperishable blessedness,
Which Reason promises, and Holy Writ         meant by tracing an ebbing and flowing mind
Ensures to all Believers?-Yet mistrust      in the fixed lineaments of naked crags? —but
Is of such incapacity, methinks,             this is but the beginning of the raving fit.
No natural branch; despondency far less.       In these majestic solitudes, he used also to
-And, if there be whose tender frames have read his Bible;-and we are told thatdroop'd
Ev'n to the dust; apparently, through weight    "There did he see the writing!-All things there
Of anguish unreliev'd, and lack of power       Breath'd immortality, revolving life
An agonising sorrow to transmute;              And greatness still revolving; infinite!
Infer not hence a hope from those withheld     There littleness was not; the least of things
When wanted most; a confidence impair'd        Seem'd infinite; and there his spirit shap'd
So pitiably, that, having ceas'd to see        Her prospects; nor did he believe,-he saw!
With bodily eyes, they are borne down by love    What wonder if his being thus became
Of what is lost, and perish through regret!   Sublime and comprehensive! Low desires,
Oh! no, full oft the innocent Suff'rer sees    Low thoughts had there no place; yet was his
Too clearly; feels too vividly; and longs              heart
To realize the Vision with intense             Lowly; for he wits meek in gratitude."'-pp. 14, 15.
And overconstant yearning-There-there lies
The excess, by which the balance is destroy'd.  What foWlows about nature, triangles, amrs,




WORDSWORTH'S EXCURSION.                                    461
and tne *Aws of light, is still more incompre-                           "   The tenor
hepsible.                                      Which my life holds, he readily,nay conceive
Whoe'er hath stood to watch a mountain Brook
-" Yet still uppermost               In some still passage of its course, and seen,
Nature was at his heart, as if he.felt,        Within the depths of its capacious breast,
Though yet he knew not how, a wasting pow'r    Inverted trees, and rocks, and azure sky;
In all things which from her sweet influence   And, on its glassy surface, specks of foam,
Might tend to wean him. Therefore with her hues, And conglobated bubbles undissolv'd,
Her forms, and with the spirit of her forms,   Numerous as stars; that, by their onward lapse,
He cloth'd the nakedness of austere truth.     Betray to sight the motion of the stream,
While yet he linger'd inl the rudiments        Else imperceptible; meanwhile, is heard
Of science, and among her simplest laws,       Perchance a roar or murmur; and the sound
His triangles-they were the stars of heav'n,   Though soothing, and the little floating isles
The silent stars!  Oft did he take delight     Though beautiful, are both by Nature charg'd
To measure th' altitude of some tall crag      With the same pensive office; and make known
Which is the eagle's birthplace, or some peak  Through what perplexing labyrinths, abrupt
Familiar with forgotten years, that shows      Precipitations, and untoward straits,
Inscrib'd, as with the silence of the thought,  The earth-born wanderer hath pass'd; and quickly,
Upon its bleak and visionary sides; —         That respite o'er, like traverses and toils
--— and I have heard him say         Must be again encounter'd.-Such a stream
That often, failing at this time to gain       Is Human Life."-pp. 139, 140.
The peace requir'd, he scann'd the laws of light
Amid the roar of torrents, where they send       The following, however, is a better example
From hollow clefts up to the clearer air       of the useless and most tedious minuteness
A cloud of mist, which in the sunshine frames  with which the author so frequently details
A lasting tablet-for the observer's eye        circumstances of no interest in themselves
Varying its rainbow hues. But vainly thus,
And vainly by all other means, he strove       of no importance to the story, —and possessTo mitigate the fever of his heart."-pp. 16-18.  ing no graphical merit whatsoever as pieces
of description.  On their approach to the old
The whole book, indeed, is full of such  chaplain's cottage, the author gets before his
stuff.  The following is the author's own  companion,
sublime aspiration after the delight of becoming a Motion,.r a Presence, or an Energy         -        when behold
among multitudinous streams.                 An object that entic'd my steps aside!
It was an Entry, narrow as a door;
" Oh! what a joy it were, in vig'rous health,  A passage whose brief windings open'd ott
" To have t a Body ~(this our vital Fr eaame  Into a platform; that lay, sheepfold-wise,
To have a Body (this our vital Frame                               i I
With shrinking sensibility endu'd,             Enclos'd between a single mass of rock
And all the nice regards of flesh and blood)   And one old moss-grown wall;-a cool Recess,
And lto the nice relements surrender it,       And fanciful! For, where the rock and wall.And to the elements surrender it,             Met in an angle, hung a tiny roof,
As if it were a Spirit! —.1How  divine
As if it were a Spirit!-[low divine           Met in an angle, hung a tiny roof,
The liberty, for frail, for mortal man,        Or penthouse, which most quaintly had been fram'd,
To roam at large among unpeopled glens         By thrusting two rude sticks into the wall
And mountainous retirements, only trod         And overlaying them with mountain sods!
To weather-fend a little turf-built seat
By devious footsteps; regions consecrate
To oldest time! and, reckless of the storm    Whereon a full-grown man might rest, nor dread
That keeps the raven quiet in oher nestom,     The burning sunshine, or a transient shower;
ThBe as a Presencps the or a  otion he!-or nest,  But the whole plainly wrought by Children's hands!
Among the maresence  or a lot while the Mists  Whose simple skill had thronged the grassy floor
Flying, and rainy there; andpours, cawhile the Mists  With work of frame less solid; a proud show
Flying, and rainy Vapours, call out Shapes
And Phantoms from the crags and solid earth    Of baby-houses curiously arrangd!
As fast as a Musician scatters sounds          N or wanting ornament of walks between,
t     a  Streams-  With mimic trees inserted in the turf,
sOuat of an instrument; and, while the Strems- And gardens interpos'd. Pleas'd with the sight,
(As at a first creation and in haste           I could not choose but beckon to my Guide,
To exercise their untried faculties)
Descending from the regions of the clouds,     Who, having enter'd, carelessly look'd round,
And starting from the hollows of the earth     And now woul have pass'd on; when I exclaim'd,
More multitudinous every moment —rend
More multitudinous every moment-rend' Lo! what is here?' and, stooping down, drew
Their way before them, what a joy to roam      A Book," &c.-pp 71, 72.                  [forth
An equal among mightiest Energies!             And this book, which he
And haply sometimes with articulate voice,
Amid the deaf'ning tumult, scarcely heard                           " found to be a work
By him that utters it, exclaim aloud             In the French Tongue, a Novel of Voltaire,"
Be this continu'd so from day to day,
Be this continu'd so from day to day,          leads to no incident or remark of any value
Nor let it have an end from month to month!"    leas to no  caient or remar  o any van e
pp. 164, 165.   or importance; to apologise for this long story
of its finding. Theie is no beauty, we think,
We suppose the reader is now  satisfied  it must be admitted, in these passages; and
with Mr. Wordsworth's sublimities-which  so little either tofistete t or curiosity in the
occupy rather more than half the volume:-  incidents they disclose, that we can scarcely
Of his tamer and more creeping prolixity, we  conceive that any man to whom they had achave not the heart to load him with many  tually occurred,-should take the trouble to
specimens.  The following amplification of  recount them to his wife -and children by his
the vulgar comparison of human life to a idle fireside: —but, that man or child should
stream, has the merit of adding much ob- think them worth writing down in blank verse,
scurity to wordiness; at least, we have not and printing in magnificent quarto. we should
ingenuity enough to refer the conglobated  certainly have supposed altogether impossi
bubbles and murmurs, and floating islands, ble, had it not been for the ample proofs which
tu their Vital prototypes.                     Mr. Wordsworth has afforded to the contrary




464                                     POETRY.
Sometimes their silliness is enhanced by a " One while he would speak lightly of his Babes,
paltry attempt at effect and emphasis:-as in And with a cruel tongue: at other times
the following account of that very touching  He toss'd them with a false unnat'ral joy:
and extraordinary occurrence of a lamb bleat- AndOf thes a refinnoc thent children."-thep. 31.
ing among the mountains.  The poet would
actually persuade us that he thought the At last; he steals from his cottage, and enlists
mountains themselves were bleating;-and  as a soldier; and when the benevolent Pedlar
that nothing could be so grand or impressive. comes, in his rounds, in h6pe of a cheerful
" List! ] cries the old Pedlar, suddenly break- welcome, he meets with a scene of despair.
ing off in the middle of one of his daintiest           - " Having reach'd the door
ravings-                                      I knock'd,-and, when I enter'd with the hope
Of usual greeting, Margaret look'd at me
"-.'. List!-I heard,                 A little while; then turn'd her head away
From yon huge breast of rock, a solemn bleat!    Speechless,-and sitting down upon a chair
Sent forth as if it were the Mountain's voice!  Wept bitterly! I wist not what to do,
As if the visible Mountain made the cry!     Or how to speak to her. Poor Wretch! at last
Again!' —The effect upon the soul was such   She rose from off her seat, and then,-O Sir!
As he express'd; for, from the Mountain's heart   I cannot tell how she pronounc'd my name.The solemn bleat appear'd to come! There was   With fervent love, and with a face of grief
No other-and the region all around            Unutterably helpless!"-pp. 34, 35.
Stood silent, empty of all shape of life.
-It was a Lamb-left somewhere to itself!"        Hope, however, and native cheerfulness,
p. 159.   were not yet subdued; and her spirit still bore
up against the pressure of this desertion.
What we have now quoted will give the
reader a notion of the taste and spirit in which           " Long we had not talk'd
this volume is composed: And yet, if it had  Ere we built up a pile of better thoughts,.p~~~..       And with a brighter eye she look'd around
not contained something a good deal better, As if she had been shedding tears of joy."
we do not know how we should have been
justified in troubling him with any account, We parted.-'Twas the time of early spring;
I left her busy with her garden tools;
of it.- ]ut the truth is, that Mr Wordsworth    left he busy wiher garden oo
wo~ith.~ al~hsie-ru  sest"at frgreth    And well remember, o'er that fence she look'd,
with all his MperMir-  i-S-i-S i a Ijfepeifof great- And, while I paced along the footway path,
powers; and has frequently a force in his Called out, and sent a blessing after me,
moral declamations, and a tenderness in his With tender cheerfulness; and with a voice
pathetic narratives, which neither his prolixity     seem'd the very sound of happy thoughts."
nor his affectation can altogether deprive of                                     pp. 3G, 37
their effect.  We shall venture to give some    The gradual sinking of the spirit under the
extracts from the simple tale of the Weaver's load of continued anxiety, and the destrucsolitary Cottage.  Its heroine is the deserted. tion of all the finer springs of the soul by a
wife; and its chief interest consists in the course of unvarying sadness, are very feelpicture of her despairing despondence and  ingly represented in the sequel of this simple
anxiety, after his disappearance. The Pedlar, narrative.
recurring to the well to which he had direct-                " Ijourney'd back this way
ed his companion, observes,                   Towards the wane of Summer; when the wheat
Was yellow; and the soft and bladed grass
-U" As     I stootone I espeSpringing afresh had o'er the hay-field spread
Upon the slimy foot-stone I espied            Its tender verdure. At the door arriv'd,
The useless fragment of a wooden bowl,        I found that she was absent. In the shade,
Green with the moss of years; a pensive sight  Where now we sit, I     waited her return.
That mov'd my heart!-recalling former days,    Her Cottage, then a cheerful Object, wore
When I could never pass that road but She     Its customary look,-only, I thought,
Who liv'd within these walls, at my approach,  The honeysuckle, crowding round the porch,
A Daughter's welcome gave me; and I lov'd her  Hung down in heavier tufts: and that bright weed,
As my own child! O Sir! the good die first!    The yellow stone-crop, suffer'd to take root
And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust    Along the window's edge, profusely grew,
Burn to the socket."                          Blinding the lower panes. I turn'd aside,
- " By some especial care       And stroll'd into her garden. It appear'd
Her temper had been fram'd, as if to make     To lag behind the season, and had lost
A Being-who by adding love to peace           Its pride of neatness."Might live on earth a life of happiness."     " The sun was sinking in the west; and now
pp. 27, 28.     I sate with sad impatience. From within
Her solitary Infant cried aloud;
The bliss and tranquillity of these prosper- Then, like a blast that dies away self-still'd,
ous years is well and copiously described;-   The voice was silent." —pp. 37-39.
but at last came sickness, and want of em-   The desolate woman had now an air of still
ployment; —and  the effect on the kind- and listless, though patient sorrow..
earted and industrious mechanic is strikingly
delineated.  Evermore
Her eyelids droop'd, her eyes were downward cast
-   At his door he stood,          And, when she at her table gave me food,
And whistl'd many a snatch of merry tunes     She did not look at me! Her voice was low,
That had no mirth in them! or with his knife  Her body was subdu'd. In ev'ry act
Carv'd uncouth figures on the heads of sticks-  Pertaining to her house affairs, appear'd
Then, not less idly, sought, through every nook    The careless stillness of a thinking mind
In house or garden, any casual work            Self-occupied; to which all outward things
Of use or ornament."-                         Are like an idle matter. Still she sigh'd,




wqw)WWORT'S EXCURSION.                                   465
But yet no motion of the breast was seen,       "-Wild were our walks upon those lonely Downs
No heaving of the heart.  While by the fire     Whence, unmolested Wanderers, we beheld
We sate together, sighs came on my ear,        The shining Giver of the Day diffuse
I know.not how, and hardly whence they came.   His brightness, o'er a tract of sea and land
I return'd,             Gay as our spirits, free as our desires,
And took my rounds along this road again,      As our ertoyments boundless.-From these Heights
Ere on its sunny bank the primrose flow'r      We dropp'd, at pleasure, into sylvan Combs;
Peep'd forth, to give an earnest of the Spring,  Where arbours of impenetrable shade,
I found her sad and drooping; she had learn'd  And mossy seats detain'd us, side by side,
No tidings of her Husband; if he liv'd         With hearts at ease, and knowledge in our hearts
She knew not that he lived; if he were dead'That all the grove and all the day was ours.'"
She knew not he was dead. She seem'd the same                                    pp. 118-120.
In person and appearance; but her House
Bespake a sleepy hand of negligence               There, seven years of unmolested happiness
- Her Infant Babe         were blessed with two lovely children.
Had from its Mother caught the trick of grief,
And sigh'd among its playthings!"-pp. 41-43.    And on these pillars rested, as on air,
Our solitude."
Returning seasons only deepened this gloom, Suddenly a contagious malady swept off both
and confirmed this neglect.  Her child died; the infants.
and she spent her weary days in roaming
over the country, and repeating her fond and  "Calm as a frozen Lake when ruthless Winds
vain inquiries to every passer by.               Blow fiercely, agitating earth and sky,
The Mother now remain'd."
" Meantime her House by frost, and thaw, and rain,             -" Yet, stealing slow,
Was sapp'd; and while she slept the nightly damps   Dimness o'er this clear Luminary crept
Did chill her breast; and in the stormy day     Insensibly! —The immortal and divine
Her tatter'd clothes were ruffl'd by the wind,   Yielded to mortal reflux, her pure Glory,
Ev'n at the side of her own fire. Yet still      As from the pinnacle of worldly state
She lov'd this wretched spot; and here, my Friend,   Wretched Ambition drops astounded, fell
In sickness she remain'd; and here she died!    Into a gulf obscure of silent grief,
Last Human Tenant of these ruin'd Walls."-p. 46.   And keen heart-anguish-of itself asham'd,
Yet obstinately cherishing itself:
The story of the old Chaplain, though a   And, so consum'd, She melted from my arms 
little less lowly, is of the same mournful cast,   And left me, on this earth, disconsolate."
and almost equally destitute of incidents;- pp. 125, 126.
for Mr. Wordsworth delineates only feelings-    The agony of mind into which the sur
and all his adventures are of the heart.  The vivor was thrown, is described with a power.
narrative which is given by the sufferer him- ful eloquence; as well as the doubts and disself is, in our opinion, the most spirited and  tracting fears which the sceptical speculations
nteresting part of the poem.  He begins thus, of his careless'days had raised in his spirit.
tnel addressing himself, after a long pause, There is something peculiarly grand and ter-; his ancient countryman and friend the rible to our feelings in the imagery of these
Pedlar —                                       three lines"You never saw, your eyes did never look       " By pain of heart, now check'd, and now impell'd,,
On the bright Form of Her whom once I lov'd!   The Intellectual Power, through words and things,
Her silver voice was heard upon the earth,     Went sounding on,-a dim ana pelous way
A sound unknown to you; else, honour'd Friend,
Your heart had borne a pitiable share          At last he is roused from this dejected mood,.
Of what I suffer'd, when I wept that loss!     by the glorious promises which seemed held
And suffer now, not seldom, from the thought   out to human nature by the first dawn of the
That I remember-and can weep no more!"
p. 117.  French Revolution; —and it indicates a fine.
pc o.. perception of the secret springs of character
The following account of his marriage and  and emotion, to choose a being so circumearly felicity is written with great sweetness- stanced as the most ardent votary of that fara sweetness like that of Massinger, in his softer spread enthusiasm.
and more mellifluous passages.
" Thus was I reconverted to the world!
"This fair Bride-                  Society became my glitt'ring Bride,
In the devotedness of youthful love,           And airy hopes my Children!-If busy Men
Preferring me to Parents, and the choir        In sober conclave met, to weave a web
Of gay companions, to the natal roof,          Of amity, whose living threads should stretch
And all known places and familiar sights,      Beyond the seas, and to the farthest pole,
(Resign'd with sadness gently weighing down    There did I sit, assisting. If, with noise
Her trembling expectations, but no more        And acclamation, crowds in open air
Than did to her due honour, and to me          Express'd the tumult of their minds, my voice
Yielded, that day, a confidence sublime        There mingled, heard or not. The powers of song,
In what I had to build upon)-this Bride,       I left not uninvok'd; and, in still groves,
Young, modest, meek, and beautiful, I led      Where mild Enthusiasts tun'd a pensive lay
To a low Cottage in a sunny Bay,               Of thanks and expectation, in accord
Where the salt sea innocuously breaks,         With their belief, I sang Saturnian Rule
And the sea breeze as innocently breathes,     Return'd,-a progeny of golden years
On Devon's leafy shores;-a sheltered Hold,    Permitted to descend, and bless mankind!"
In a soft clime, encouraging the soil                                           pp. 128, 129.
To a luxuriant bounty!-As our steps
Approach the embower'd Abode, our chosen Seat,   On  the disappearance of that bright visions.
See, rooted in the earth, its kindly bed,      he was inclined to take part with the despeTheunendanger'd Myrtle,deck'dwith flowers,'&c. rate party who still aimed at establishing
80




466                                      POETRY.
universal regeneration, though by more ques- Yet not in vain, it sha:l not be in vain.'  [food
tionable instruments than they had originally -Through four months' space the Infant drew its
assumed.  But the military despotism which  From the maternal breast.  Then scruples rose;
ensued soon closed the scene against all such  Thoughts, which the rich are free from, came and
ensued soon cose te scene against a su cross'd
exertions; and, disgusted  with  men  and  The sweet affection. She no more could beat
Europe, he sought for shelter in the wilds of By her offence to lay a twofold weight
America. In the calm of the voyage, Memory  On a kind parent, willing to forget
and Conscience'awoke him  to a sense of his Their slender means! So, to that parent's care
misery.                                        Trusting her child, she left their common home,
And with contented spirit undertook
-" Feebly must They have felt        A Foster-Mother's office."-pp. 291-293.
Who, in old time, attir'd with snakes and whips  Here the parents of her new. nursling soon
The vengeful.Furies. Beautiful regards
Thevengefulr Fuones.   Beauticue regards Ilod  forbade her all intercourse with her own most
Were turn'd on me-the face of her I lov'd!
The Wife and Mother, pitifully fixing          precious child;-and a sudden malady carried
Tender reproaches, insupportable!"-pp. 133, 134. it off, in this period of forcded desertion.
His disappointment, and ultimate seclusion in            -"  Once, only once,
Englaind, have been already sufficiently de- She saw it in that mortal malady:
tailed.   have been already sufficiently de- And, on the burial day, could scarcely gain
We must taissiupon our r ed.  with Permission to attend its obsequies!
We must trespass upon our readers with  She reach'd the house-last of the fun'ral train;
the fragments of yet another story. It is that And some One, as she enter'd, having chanc'd
of a simple, seduced, and deserted girl told  To urge unthinkingly their prompt departure,
with great sweetness, pathos, and indulgenceI'Nay,' said she, with commanding look, a spirit
by the Vicar of the parish, by the side of her Of anger nevr seen wait my time' and down she sate,
untimely grave.  Looking down on the turf, And by the unclos'd coffin kept her seat;
he says-                                       Weeping and looking, looking on and weeping
Upon the last sweet slumber of her Child!
"      As, on safe sunny bank, faro thender.lamb, ofUntil at length her soul was satisfied.
Lurks in safe shelter, from the winds of March   You see the Infant's Grave!-and to this Spot,
Screen'd by its Parent, so that little mound   The Mother, oft as she was sent abroad,
Lies guarded by its neighbour. The small heap   ATd whatsoe'er the errand, urg'd her steps:
Speaks for itself:;-an Infant there doth rest;  Hither she came; and here she stood, or knelt,
The sheltring Hillock is the Mother's grave!-    In the broad day-a rueful Magdalene!"-p. 294.
There, by her innocent Baby's precious grave,
Yea, doubtless, on the turf that roofs her own,    Overwhelmed with this calamity, she was at
The Mother oft was seen to stand, or kneel,    last obliged to leave her service.
In the broad day, a weeping Magdalene.
Now she is not! The swelling turf reports      "But the green stalk of Ellen's life was snapp'd,
Of the fresh show'r, but of poor Ellen's tears  And the flower droop'd; as every eye might see.'
Is silent; nor is any vestige left
Upon the pathway of her mournful tread;          "Her fond maternal Heart had built a Nest
Nor of that pace with which she once had mov'd  In blindness all too near the river's edge;'In virgin fearlessness-a step that seem'd. That Work a summer flood with hasty swell,Caught from the pressure of elastic turf       Had swept away! and now her spirit long'd
Upon the mountains wet with morning dew,       For its last flight to Heaven's security.":In the prime hour of sweetest scents and airs."  "-Meek Saint! through patience glorified on
pp. 285-287.           earth,ler virgin graces and gentleness are then  In whom, as by her lonely hearth she sate,
The ghastly face of cold decay put on.very beautifully described, and her seduction  A sun-like beauty, and apear'd divine;
and lonely anguish passed over very tenderly: So, through the cloud of death, her Spirit pass'd
Into that pure and unknown world of love,
"' Ah why,' said Ellen, sighing to herself,    Where injury cannot come:-and here is laid'Why do not words, and kiss, and solemn pledge; The mortal Body by her Infant's side i"
And nature that is kind in Woman's breast,                                    pp. 296, 297.
And reason that in Man is kind and good,
And fear of Him who is a righteous Judge,         These passages, we think, are among the
Why do not these prevail for human life,       most touching with which the volume presents
To keep two hearts together, that began        us; though there are many in a more lofty
Their spring-time with one love, and that have needssioned style   The folloing co
Of mutual pity and forgiveness, sweet
To grant, or be receiv'd' "-p. 289.           memoration of a beautiful and glorious youth,
the love and the pride of the humble valley,
"A kindlier passion open'd on her soul         is full of warmth and poetry.
When that —poor Child was born. Upon its face
She look'd as on a pure and spotless gift                      "The mountain Ash,
Of unexpected promise, where a grief           Deck'd with autumnal berries that outshine
Or dread was all that had been thought of.     Spring's richest blossoms, yields a splendid show' Till this hour,'           Amid the leafy woods; and ye have seen,
Thus in her Mother's hearing Ellen spake,      By a brook side or solitary tarn,' There was a stony region in my heart!       How she her station doth adorn,-the pool
But He at whose command the parched rock       Glows at her feet, and all the gloomy rocks
Was smitten, and pour'd forth a quenching stream, Are brighten'd round her! In his native Vale
IHath soften'd that obduracy, and made         Such and so glorious did this Youth appear;
Unlook'd-for gladness in the desert place,     A sight that kindled pleasure in all hearts,
To save the perishing; and, henceforth, I look  By his ingenuous beauty, by the gleam
Upon the light with cheerfulness, for thee     Of his fair eyes, by his capacious brow,
My Infant! and for that good Mother dear,     By all the graces with which nature's hand
Whno bore me,-and ha i pray'd for me in vain!-  Had bounteously array'd him. As old Bards




WORDSWORTH'S EXCURSION.                                     467
Tell in their idle songs of wand'ring Gods,    To Gain-the master Idol of the Realm,
Pan or Apollo, veil'd in human form;           Perpetual sacrifice."-p. 367,
Yet, like the sweet-breath'd violet of the shade,  The effects on the ordinary life of the p
Discover'd in their own despite, to sense        The effects on the ordinary life of the pool
Discover'd in their own despite, to sense
Of Mortals, (if such fables without blame      are delineated in graver colours.
May find chance-mention on this sacred ground,)                            Domestic bliss,
So, through a simple rustic garb's disguise,
In him revealed a Scholar's genius-shone!      (Or call it comfort, by a humbler name,)
And so, not wholly hidden from men's sight,    How art thou blighted for the poor Man's heart!
And so, not wholly hidden from men's sight,    Lo! in such neighbourhood, from morn to eve,
In him the spirit of a Hero walked             Lo! in such neighbourhood, from morn to eve,
The Habitations empty! or perchance
Our unpretending valley!"-pp. 342, 343.       The Mother left aloneabitations empty helping han
The Mother left alone,-no helping hand
This is lofty and  energetic;-but Mr. To rock the cradle of her peevish babe;
Wordsworth descends, we cannot think very  No daughters round her, busy at the wheel,
gracefully, when he proceeds to describe how  Or in despatch of each day's little growth
Of household occupation; no nice arts
the quoit whizzed when his arm  launched it Of needle-work; no bustle at the fire,
-and how the football mounted as high as a  Where once the dinner was prepared with pride;
lark, at the touch of his toe;-neither is it Nothing to speed the day or cheer the mind;
a suitable catastrophe, for one so nobly en- Nothing to praise, to teach, or to command!
dowed, to catch cold by standing too long in -  he Father, if perchance he still retain
the river washing sheep, and die of spasms His old employments, goes to field or wood,
No longer led or followed by his Sons;
in consequence.                                Idlers perchance they were,-but in his sight;
The general reflections on the indiscrimi- Breathing fresh air, and treading the green earth;
nating rapacity of death, though by no means Till their short holiday of childhood ceas'd,
original in themselves, and expressed with  Ne'er to return! That birth-right now is lost."
too bold a rivalry of the seven ages of Shake-                                 pp. 371, 372.
speare, have yet a character of vigour and    The dissertation is closed with an ardent
truth about them that entitles them to notice. hope, that the farther improvement and the
"This file of Infants; some that never breathed,   universal diffusion of these arts may take
And the besprinkl'd Nursling, unrequir'd       away the temptation for us to embark so
Till he begins to smile upon the breast        largely in their cultivation; and that we may
That feeds him; and the tott'ring Little-one   once more hold out inducements for the reTaken from air and sunshine, when the rose     turn of old manners and domestic charities.
Of Infancy first blooms upon his cheek;  [Youth
The thinking, thoughtless Schoolboy; the bold  " Learning, though late, that all true glory rests.
Of soul impetuous; and the bashful Maid        All praise, all safety, and all happiness,
Smitten while all the promises of life         Upon the Moral law. Egyptian Thebes;
Are op'ning round her; those of middle age,    Tyre by the margin of the sounding waves;
Cast down while confident in strength they stand,  Palmyra, central in the Desert, fell!
Like pillars fix'd more firmly, as might seem,  And the Arts died by which they had been raised.
And more secure, by very weight of all         -Call Archimedes from his buried Tomb
That, for support, rests on them; the decay'd  Upon the plain of vanish'd Syracuse,
And burthensome; and, lastly, that poor few    And feelingly the Sage shall make report
Whose light of reason is with age extinct;     How insecure, how baseless in itself,
The hopeful and the hopeless, first and last,  Is that Philosophy, whose sway is fram'd
The earliest summon'd and the longest spar'd,  For mere material instruments:-How weak
Are here deposited; with tribute paid          Those Arts, and high Inventions, if unpropp'd
Various, but unto each some tribute paid;      By Virtue."-p. 369.
As if, amid these peaceful hills and groves,     There is also a very animated exhortation
Society were touch'd with kind concern,            heer                           e     aton
And gentle "Nature griev'd that One should die!" to the more general diffusion of education
pp. 244, 245.   among the lower orders; and a glowing and
There is a lively and impressive appeal on eloquent assertion of their capacity for all vir-'
the injury done to the health, happiness, and  tues and enjoyments.
morality of the lower orders, by the unceas-                         -   Believe it not!
ing and premature labours of our crowded  The primal Duties shine aloft-like stars;
manufactories. The description of night-work- The Charities that soothe, and heal, and bless,
Are scatter'd at the feet of Man-like flow'rs.
ing is picturesque.  In lonely and romantic  The gen'rous inclination, the just rule,
regions, he says, when silence and darkness Kind wishes, and good actions, and pure thoughtsincline all to repose-                         No mystery is here; no special boon
n    l For high and not for low, for proudly grac'd,
And not for meek of heart. The smoke ascends
Prepar'd for never-resting Labour's eyes,      To heav'n as lightly from the Cottage hearth
Breaks from a many-window'd Fabric huge;       As from the haughty palace."-p. 398.
And at the appointed hour a Bell is heard-                    n
Of harsher import than the Curfew-knoll          The blessings and the necessities that now
That spake the Norman Conqueror's stern behest. render this a peculiar duty in the rulers of
A local summons to unceasing toil!             this empire, are urged in a still loftier tone.
Disogorg'd are now the Ministers of day;
And, as they issue from the illumin'd Pile,    " ook! and behold, from Calpe's sunburnt cliffs
A fresh Band meets them, at the crowded door,- To the flat margin of the Baltic sce,
And in the Courts;-and where the rumbling Long-reverenc'd Titles cast away as weeds;
That turns the multitude of dizzy wheels, [Stream, Laws overturn'd,-and Territory split;
Glares, like a troubl'd Spirit, in its bed     Like fields of ice rent by the polar wind,
Among the rocks below. Men, Maidens, Youths, And forc'd to join in less obnoxious shapes,
Mother and little Children, Boys and Girls,    Which, ere they gain consistence, by a gust
Enter, and each the wonted task resumes        Of the same breath are shatter'd and destroy'd.
Within this Temple-where is offer'd up         Meantime, the Sov'reignty of these fair Isles




~68                                    POETRY.
Remains entire and indivisible;              Deposited upon the silent shore
And, if that ignorance were remov'd, which acts   Of Memory, images and precious thoughts,
Within the compass of their sev'ral shores   That shall not die, and cannot be destroy'd."
To breed commotion and disquietude,
Each might preserve the beautiful repose     Nor is any thing more  elegant than the
Of heav' nly bodies shining in their spheres.  representation of the graceful tranquillity oc-The discipline of slavery is unknown        casionally put on by one of the author'l
Amongst us,-hence the more do we requite    favourites; who,.hough gay and airy, in
The discipline of virtue; order else         generalCannot subsist, nor confidence, nor peace."
pp. 402, 403.   " Was graceful, when it pleas'd him, smoo:h and
still
There is a good deal of fine description in As the mate Swan that floats adown the stream,
the course of this work; but we have left Or on the waters of th' unruffled lake
ourselves no room  for any specimen. The  Anchors her placid beauty. Not a leaf
following few lines, however, are a fine epit- That flutters on the bough more light than he,
ome of a lake voyage:-                       And not a flow'r that droops in the green shade
More willingly reserv'd."
--— " Right across the Lake
Our pinnace moves: then, coasting creek and bay,   Nor are there wanting morsels of a sterner
Glades we behold-and into thickets peep —    and more majestic beauty; as when, assuming
Where crouch the spotted deer; or raise our eyes, the weightier diction of Cowper, he says, in
To shaggy steeps on which the careless goat  language which the hearts of all readers of
Browsed by the side of dashing waterfalls."-p. 412. modern history must have respondedWe add, also, the following more elaborate.                -" Earth is sick,
and fantastic picture-which, however, is not And Heav'n is weary of the hollow words
without its beauty:-                         Which States and Kingdom utter when they speak
Of Truth and Justice."
"Then having reach'd a bridge, that overarch'd
The hasty rivulet where it lay becalm'd we perceive2 are not very
In a deep pool, by happy chance we saw       well chosen-but we have not leisure to imA twofold Image. On a grassy bank            trove the selection; and, such as they are,
A snow-white Ram, and in the crystal flood   they may serve to give the reader a notion of
Another and the same! Most beautiful,       the sort of merit which we meant to illustrate
On the green turf, with his imperial front   bytheir citation.  When we look back to
Shaggy and bold, and wreathed horns superb,
The breathing creature stood I as beautiful,  them, indeed, and to the other passages which
Beneath him, show'd his shadowy Counterpart.   we have now extracted, we feel half inclined
Each had his glowing mountains, each his sky,    to rescind the severe sentence which we
And each seem'd centre of his own fair world:    passed on the work at the beginfling:-But
Antipodes unconscious of each other,         when we look into the work itself, we perceive
Yet, in partition, with their several spheres,  that it cannot be rescinded. Nobody can be
Blended in perfect stillness to our sight!"-p. 407. that it cannot be rescinded.  Nobody can be
more disposed to do justice to the great powers
Besides those more extended passages of of Mr. Wordsworth than we are; and, from
interest or beauty, which we have quoted, the first time that he came before us, down
and omitted to quote, there are scattered up to the present moment, we have uniformly
and down the book, and in the midst of its testified in their favour, and assigned indeed
most repulsive portions, a very great number our high sense of their value as the chief
of single lines and images, that sparkle like ground of the bitterness with which we regems in the desert, and startle us with an in- sented their perversion.  That perversion,
tination of the great poetic powers that lie however, is now far more visible than their
buried in the rubbish that has been heaped original dignity; and "while we collect the
around them. It is difficult to pick up these, fragments, it is impossible not to mourn over
after we have once passed them by; but we the ruins from which we are condemned to
shall endeavour to light upon one or two. The pick them. If any on'e should doubt of the
beneficial effect of intervals of relaxation and existence of such a perversion, or be disposed
pastime on youthful minds, is finely expressed, to dispute about the instances we have hastily
we think, in a single linee when it is said to  brought forward we would just beg leave to
be —                                         refer him to the general plan and character of
" Like vernal ground to Sabbath sunshine left."  the poem now before us.  Why should Mr
Wordsworth have made his hero a superannuThe following image of the bursting forth ated pedlar   What but the most wretched
of a mountain-spring, seems to us also to be affectation, or provoking perversity of taste,
conceived with great elegance and beauty.   could induce any one to place his chosen ad
"And a few steps may bring us to the spot,   vocate of wisdom and virtue in so absurd and
Where haply crown'd with flow'rets and green fantastic a condition. Did Mr. Wordsworth
herbs,                               really imagine, that his favourite doctrines
The Mountain Infant to the Sun comes forth,  were likely to gain any thing in point of effect
Like human light from darkness!"
or authority by being put into the mouth of a
The ameliorating effects of song and music person accustomed to higgle about tape, or
on the minds which most delight in them, are brass sleeve-buttons. Or is it not plain that,
likewise very poetically expressed.          independent of the ridicule and disgust whih
-.".And when the stream          such a personification must excite in many of
Which overflow'd the soul was pass'd away,   his readers, its adoption exposes his work
A consciousPess remain'd that it had left,  throughout to the charge of revolting incon.




WORDSWORTH'S WHITE DOE.                             461
gruity, and utter disregard of probability or   The absurdity in this case, we think, is
nature? For, after he has thus wilfully de- palpable and glaring: but it is exactly of the
based his moral teacher by a low occupation, same nature with that which infects the whole
is there one word that he puts into his mouth, substance of the work-a puerile ambition
or one sentiment of which he makes him the of singularity engrafted on ar. unlucky prediorgan, that has the most remote reference to fection for truisms; and an affected passion
that occupation? Is there any thing in his for simplicity and humble life, most awklearned, abstract, and logical harangues, that wardly combined with a taste for mystical
savours of the calling that is ascribed to him? refinements, and all the gorgeousness of QbAre any of their materials such as a pedlar scure phraseology. His taste for simplicity
could possibly.have dealt in? Are the man- is evinced by sprinkling up and down his inners, the diction, the sentiments, in any, tie terminable declamations a few descriptions
very smallest degree, accommodated to a per- of baby-houses, and of old hats with wet
son in that condition? or are they not eminently brims; and his amiable partiality for humble
and conspicuously such as could not by possi- I life, by assuring us that a wordy rhetorician
bility belong to it  A man who went about who talks about Thebes, and allegorizes ali
selling flannel.and pocket-handkerchiefs in the heathen mythology, was once a pedlarthis lofty diction, would soon frighten away and making him break in upon his magnifiall his customers; and would infallibly pass c nt orations with two or three awkward noeither for a madman, or for some learned and tices of something that he'had seen when
affected gentleman, who, in a frolic, had taken selling winter raiment about the country-or
up a character which he was peculiarly ill of the changes in the state of society, which
qualified for supporting.               I had almost annihilated his former calling.
(Ortorbr, 1815.)
The Whlite Doe ef Rylstone; or the Fate of the Nortons: a Poem. By WILLIAi  WQRDSWORTH. 4to. pp. 162. London: 1815.
THIS, we think, has the merit of being the farther, seems capable of assuming as many
very worst poem we ever saw imprinted in a forms as the vulgar one which arises from
quarto volume; and though it was scarcely to wine; and it appears to require as delicate
be expected, we confess, that Mr. Words- a management to make a man a good poet
worth, with all his ambition, should so soon by the help of the one, as to make him a
have attained to that distinction, the wonder good companion by means of the other. In
may perhaps be diminished when we state, both cases, a little mistake as to the dose or
that it seems to us to consist of a happy union the quality of the inspiring fluid may make
of all the faults, without any of the beauties, him absolutely outrageous, or lull him over
which belong to his school of poetry. It is into the most profound stupidity, instead of
just such a work, in short,.as some wicked brightening up the hidden stores of his genius:
enemy of that school might be supposed to and truly we are concerned to say, that Mr.
have devised, on purpose to make it ridicu- Wordsworth seems hitherto to have been
lous; and when we first took it up, we could unlucky in the choice of his liquor-or of his
not help suspecting that some ill-natured bottle-holder. In some of his odes and ethic
critic had actually taken this harsh method exhortations, he was exposed to the public in
of instructing Mr. Wordsworth, by example, a state of incoherent rapture and glorious
in the nature of those errors, against which delirium, to which we think we have seen a
our precepts had been so often directed in parallel among the humbler lovers of jollity.
vain. We had not gone far, ]otwever, till we In the Lyrical Ballads, he was exhibited, on
felt intimately that nothing in the nature of a the whole, in a vein of very pretty deliration;
joke could be so insupportably dull — and but in the poem before us, he appears in a
that this must be the'work of one who earn- state of low and maudlin imbecility, which
estly believed it to be a pattern of pathetic would not have misbecome Master Silence
simplicity, and gave it out as such to the ad- himself, in thle close of a social day. Whether
miration of all intelligent readers. In this this unhappy result is to be ascribed to any
point of view, the work may be regarded as adulteration of his Castalian cups, or to the
curions at least, if not in some degree inter- unlucky choice of his company over them, we
ssting; and, at all events, it must be instruc- cannot presume to say. It may be that he
Five to be made aware of the excesses into has dashed his Hippocrene with too large an
wh:ch superior understandings may be be- infusion of lake water, or assisted its operatrayed, by long self-indulgence, and the tion too exclusively by the study of the ancient
strange extravagances into which they may historical ballads of "the north countrie."
run, when under the influence of that intoxi- That there are palpable imitations of the style
cation which is produced by unrestrained and manner of those venerable compositions
admiration of themselves. This poetical in- in the work before us, is indeed undeniable;
toxication, indeed, to pursue the figure a little b bat it unfortunately happens, that while the




470                                    POETRY.
hobbling versification, the mean diction, and   " The presence of this wand'ring Doe
flat stupidity of these models are very exactly  Fills many a damp obscure recess
copied, and even improved upon, in this imi-     With lustre of a saintly show;
tation their rude energy, manly simplicity       And, re-appearing, she no less
tation their rude energyT manly simplicity,    To the open day gives blessedness."
and occasional felicity of expression, have
totally disappeared; and, instead of them, a    The mothers point out this pretty creature
large allowance of the author's own metaphy- to their children; and tell them in sweet nur
sical sensibility, and mystical wordiness, is sery phrasesforced into an unnatural combination with the   "Now you have seen the famous Doe!
borrowed beauties which have just been men-      From Rylstone she hath found her way
tioned.'                            Over the hills this Sabbath-day;
The story of the poem, though not capable     Her work, whate'er it be, is done,
of furnishing out matter for a quarto volume     And she will depart when we are gone.
might yet have made an interesting ballad      The poet knows why she comes there, and
and, in the hands of Mr. Scott,or Lord Byron,  thinks the people may know it too: But some
would probably have supplied many images of them  think she is a new incarnation of
to be loved, and descriptions to be remem- some, of the illustrious dead that lie buried
bered. The incidents arise out of the short- around them; and one, who it seems is an
lived Catholic insurrection of the NortheOi Oxford scholar, conjectures that she may be
counties, in the reign of Elizabeth. which was the fairy who instructed  Lord Clifford in
supposed to be connected with the project of astrology! an ingenious fancy, which the
marrying the Queen of Scots to the Duke of poet thus gently reprovethNorfolk; and terminated in the ruin of the   "Ah, pensive scholar! think not so!
Earls of Northumberland and Westmoreland,        But look again at the radiant Doe!
by whom it was chiefly abetted.  Among the And then closes the Canto with this natural
victims of this rash enterprise was Richard and luminous apostrophe to his harp.
Norton of Rylstone, who comes to the array
with a splendid banner, at the head of eight   "But, harp  thy murmurs may not cease, —
tall sons, but against the will and advice of a  For   a Spirit breeze-like visitings
nrtth, who, though he refused to join the host,   Hath touch'd thee, and a Spirit's hand:
yet follows unarmed in its rear, out of anxiety  A voice is with us-a command
for the fate of his family; and, when the        To chant, in strains of heavenly glory,
father and his gallant progeny are made          A tale of tears, a mortal story!"     o
prisoners, and led to execution at York, re-   The Second Canto is more full of business;
covers the fatal banner, and is slain by a and affords us more insight into the autfor's
party of the Queen's horse near Bolton Priory, manner of conducting a story. The opening,
ip which place he had been ordered to de- however, which goes back to the bright and
Posit it by the dying voice of his father. The original conception of the harp, is not quite
Atately halls and pleasant bowers of Rylstone so intelligible as might have been desired.
are then wasted, and fall into desolation;
while the heroic daughter, and only survivor " The Harp in lowliness obey'd:
of the house, is sheltered among its faithful   And first we sang of the green-wood shade;
retainers, and wanders about for many years   And a solitary Maid!
retainers,..    Beainning, where the song must end,
in its neighbourhood, accompanied by a beau-   Wih her, and with her sylvan Friend;
tiful white doe, which had formerly been a   The friend, who stood before her sight,
pet in the family; and continues, long after   Her only unextinguish'd light,the death of this sad survivor. to  repair   Herlastcompanionin adearth
every Sunday to the churchyard of Bolton   Of love, upon a hopeless earth."
Priory, and there te-feed and wander among    This solitary maid, we are then told, had
the graves, to the wonder and delight of the wrought, at the request of her father, "an
rustic congregation that came there to wor- unblessed work"ship.                                          " A Banner-one that did fulfil
his, we think, is a pretty subject for a   Too perfectly his headstrong will:
llad; and, in the author's better day, mrght  For on this Banner had her hand
ve made a lyrical one of considerable inter-  Embroider'd (such was the command)
st. Let us see,-however, how he deals with      The Sacred Cross; and figur'd there
At, since he has' bethought him of publishing'Ihe five dear wounds our Lord did bear."
in quarto.                                     The song then proceeds to describe the
The First Canto merely contains the de- rising of Northumberland and Westmoreland,
s(ription of the Doe coming into the church- in the following lofty and spirited strains: —
yard on Sunday, and of the congregation          Two earls fast lengu'd in discontent,
Wondering at her. She is described as being      Who gave their wishes open vent;
a s white as a lily-or the moon-or a ship in     And boldly urg'd a general plea,
the sunshine; and this is the style in which     The rites of ancient piety
PMr. Wordsworth marvels and moralises about      To be by force of arms renew'd;
her through ten quarto pages.                    Glad prospect for the multitude!
And that same Banner, on whose breast
"What harmonious, pensive changes,             The blameless Lady had exprest,
Wait upon her as she ranges                  Memorials chosen to give life,
Round and through this Pile of State,        And sunshine to a dangerous strife;
Overthrown and desolate!"                   This Banner," &c.




WORDSWORTH'S WHITE DOE.                                    47
The poet, however, puts out all his strength head quarters of the insurgent Earls; and de.
in the dehortation which he makes Francis scribes the first exploits of those conscientious
Norton address to his father, when the prepa- warriors; who took possession of the Cathe.
rations are completed, and the household is dral of Durham,
ready to take the field.' "Sang Mass,-and tore the book of Prayer,-- " Francis Norton said,           And trod the Bible beneath their feet."' O Father! rise not in this frayT he hairs arise not in youthis fray         Elated by this triumph, they turn to the
The hairs are white upon your head;
Dear Father, hear me when I say           south.
It is for you too late a  day!  " To London were the Chieftains bent:
Bethink you of your own good name;          But what avails the bold intent?
A just and gracious queen have we,          A Royal army is gone forth
A pure religion, and the claim              To quell the Rising of the North;
Of peace on our humanity.                   They march with Dudley at their head,'Tis meet that I endure your scorn,-        And in seven days' space, will to York be led!I am your son, your eldest born;           And Neville was opprest with fear;
The Banner touch not, stay your hand,-       For, though he bore a valiant name,
This multitude of men disband,              His heart was of a timid frame."
And live at home in blissful ease.' "
The warlike father makes no answer to this So they agree to march back again; at which
exquisite address, but turns in silent scorn to old Norton is sorely afflicted-and Francis
the  banner,                                  takes the opportnity to renew his dehortations
-but is again repulsed with scorn, and falls
"And his wet eyes are glorified;"      back to his station in the rear.
and forthwith he marches out, at the head of    The Fourth Canto shows Emily walking by
his sons and retainers.                       the fish ponds and arbours of Rylstone, in a
Francis is very sad when thus left alone in fine moonshiny night, withher favourite white
the mansion-and still worse when he sees Doe not far off.
his sister sitting under a tree near the door.   "Yet the meek Creature was not free,
However, though  "he dannot choose  but           Erewhile, from some perplexity:
shrink and sigh," he goes up to her and says,     For thrice hath she approach'd, this day,
The thought-bewilder'd Emily."'' Gone are they,-they have their desire;             th
And I with thee one hour will stay,       However, thev are tolerably reconciled that
To give thee comfort if I may.'            evening; and by and by, just a few minutes
He paused, her silence to partake,      after nine. an old retainer of the house comes
And long it was before he spake:                      her, and is sent to follow the host
Then, all at once, his thoughts turn'd round,  and bring back tidings of their success.-The
And fervent words a passage found.' Gone are they, bravely, though misled,    worthy yeoman sets out with great alacrity
With a dear Father at their head!         but not having much hope, it would appear,
The Sons obey a natural lord;             of the cause, says to himself as he goes,
The Father had given solemn word'T'o noble Percy,-and a force             "' Grant that the moon which shines this night,
Still stronger bends him to his course.     May guide them in a prudent flight!' "-p. 75.
lThis said, our tears to-day may fall     Things however had already come to aiff
As at an innocent funeral.
In deep and-awful channel runs             worse issue-as the poet very briefly and inThis sympathy of Sire and Sons;           geniously intimates in the following fine lines:
Untried our Brothers were belov'd,
Untrid ow their faiBrothfulness iswere belprov'd  "Their flight the fair moon may not see;
And now their faithfulness is prov'd;  For, from mid-heaven, already she
For faithful we must call them, bearing       Hath witness'd their captivity!"-. 75.
That soul of conscientious daring.'"
That soul of conscientious daring."' "Hath witness'd their captivity!" —p. 75.
After a great deal more, as touching and    They had made a rash assault. it seems, on
sensible, he applies himself more directly to Barnard Castle, and had been all made prisonthe unhappy case of his hearer-whom he ers, and forwarded to York for trial.
thus judiciously comforts and flatters:          The Fifth Canto shows us Emily watching
on a commanding height for the return of her
"Hope nothing, if I thus may speak          faithful messenger; who accordingly arrives
To thee a woman, and thence weak;         forthwith and tells'as gently as could be,
Hope nothing, I repeat; for we
Are doom'd t6 perish utterly;             the unhappy catastrophe which he had come'Tis meet that thou with me divide        soon enough to witness. The only comfort he
The thought while I am by thy side.       can offer is, that Francis is still alive.
Acknowledging algrace in this,
Acknowledging adrace in this,               " To take his life they have not dar'd.
A comfort in the dark abyss:                   On him and on his high endeavour
But look not for me when I am gone,           The light of praise shall shine for ever!
And be no farther wrought upon.               Nor did he (such Heaven's will) in vain
Farewell all wishes, all debate,              His solitary course maintain
All prayers for this cause, or for that       His solitary ourse main the might 
WVeep, if that aid thee; but depend           Nor vainly s truggled in the might   5.
Upon no help of outward friend; *Of duty seeing with clear sight." —p 85.
Upon no help of outward friend;
Espouse thy doom at once, and cleave         He then tells how the father and his eight,
To fortitude without reprieve."           sons were led out to execution; and how
It is impossible, however, to go regularly on Francis, at his father's request, took their
with this goodly matter. -The Third Canto banner, and prom sed to biring it back to Bol
brings the Nortons and their banner to the ton PIiory.




472                                     POETRY.
The Sixth Canto opens with the homeward  ful doe; but so very discreetly and cautiously
pilgrimage of this unhappy youth; and there  written, that we will engage that the most.
ts something so -truly forlorn and tragical in tender-hearted reader shall peruse it without
his situation, that we  should  really have  the least risk of any excessive emotion. The,
thought it difficult to have given an account poor lady runs about indeed for some years in
of it without exciting some degree of interest a very disconsolate way, in a worsted gown
or emotion.  Mr. Wordsworth, however, re- and flannel nightcap: But at last the old white*
serves all his pathos for describing the white- doe finds her out, and takes again to following
ness of the pet doe, and disserting about her her-whereupon Mr. Wordsworth breaks out
perplexities, and her high communion, and into this fine and natural rapture.
participation of Heaven's grace — and deals
m this sort with the orphan son, turning from       " Oh, moment ever blest! 0 Pair!
Belov'd of-Heaven, Heaven's choicest care!
the bloody scaffold of all his line with their     Belov'd of Heaven, Heaven's choicest careing,This was for you a precious greeting,luckless banner in his hand.                      For both a bounteous, fruitful meeting.
Join'd are they; and the sylvan Doe
" He look'd about like one betray'd;Can she depart  can she forego
What hath he done? what promise made? can she forego
Oh weak, weakh moment! to what end-           llThe Lady, once her playful Peer?
Oh weak, weak moment! to what end
Can such a vain oblation tend,                  " That day, the first of a reunion
An'd he the Bearer?-Can he go                Which was to teem with high communion,
Carrying this instrument of woe,              That day of balmy April weather,
And find, find any where, a right             They tarried in the wood together."
To excuse him in his Country's sight?                                    pp. 117, 118.
No, will not all Men deem the change
A downward course? perverse and strange?  What follows is not quite so intelligible.
Here is it,-but how, when? must she,
The unoffending Emily                           " When Emily by morning light
Again this piteous object see?               Went forth, the Doe was there in sight.
Such conflict long did he maintain          She shrunk:-with one frail shock of pain;
Within himself, and found no rest;            Received and followed by a prayer,
Calm liberty he could not gain;               Did she behold-saw once again;
And yet the service was unblest.              Shun will she not, she feels, will bear; —
His own life into danger brought              But wheresoever she look'd round
By this sad burden-even that thought          All now was trouble-haunted ground."-p.119.
Rais'd self-suspicion, which was strong,'Swaying the brave Man to his wrong:         It certainly is not easy to guess what sould
And how, unless it were the sense         be in the mind of the author, when he penned
Of all-disposing Providence,             these four last inconceivable lines; but we
Its will intelligibly shown,              are willing to infer that the lady's loneliness
Finds he the Banner in his hand,
Without a thought to such intent?"       was cheered by this mute associate; and that
pp. 99, 100.    the doe, in return, found a certain comfort in
His death is not much less pathetic.  A  the lady's companytroop of the Queen's horse surround him, and    "Communication, like the ray
reproach him. we must confess with some           Of a new morning, to the nature
plausibility, with having kept his hands un-      And prospects of the inferior Creature!"
armed, only from  dread of death and forfeit-                                     p. 126.
ure, while he was all the while a traitor in   In due time the poor lady dies, and is
his heart.  The sage Francis answers the buried beside her mother; and the doe coninsolent troopers as follows:-                tinues to haunt the places which they had
"'I am no traitor,' Fraticis said,        frequented together, and especially to come' Though this unhappy freight I bear;     and pasture every Sunday upon the fine grass
It weakens me; my heart hath bled        in Bolton churchyard, the gate of which is
Till it is weak-but you beware,           never opened but on occasion of the weekly
Nor do a suffering Spirit wrong,          service.-In consequence of all which, we are
Whose self-reproaches are too strong "    assured by Mr. Wordsworth; that she'is ap
P 103. *   proved by Earth and Sky, in their benignity;'
This virtuous and reasonable person, how- and moreover, that the old Priory itself takes
ever, has ill luck in all his dissuasories; for her for a daughter of the Eternal Prime,one of the horsemen puts a pike into him  which we have no doubt is a very great comrnwithout more ado-and                          pliment, though we have not the good luck to'There did he lie of breath forsaken!"  understand what it means.
And after some time the neighbouring peas-   "And aye, methinks, this hoary Pile,
ants take him up, and bury him in the church-     Subdued by outrage and decay,
yard of Bolton Priory.                        looks down upon her with a smile,
yard   Seet   n    atCnocnan.                  A gracious smile, that seems to say,
The Seventh and last Canto contains the' Thou, thou art not a Child of Time
histr'y of the desolated Emily and her faith-    But Daughter of the Eternal Prime!'




HEMANS' POEMS.                                  473
(~ctober, 18         9.)
1. Records of Women: with other Poems.  By FELICIA HEMANS.  2d Edition. 12mo
pp. 323. Edinburgh: 1828.
2 The Forest Sanctuary: with other Poems.  By FELICIA HEMANS.  2d Edition, with
Additions. 12mo. pp. 325. Edinburgh: 1829.
WOMEN, we fear, cannot do every thing; While, in their perceptions of grace, proprinor even every thing they attempt. But what ety, ridicule-their power of detecting arti.
they can do, they do, for the most part, excel- fice, hypocrisy, and affectation-the force and
lently-and much more frequently with an promptitude of their sympathy, and their caabsolute and perfect success, than the aspir- pacity of noble and devoted attachment, and
ants of our rougher and more ambitious sex. of the efforts and sacrifices it may require,
They cannot, we think, represent naturally the they are, beyond all doubt, our Superiors.
fierce and sullen passions of men-nor their   Their business being, as we have said, with
coarser vices-nor even scenes of actual busi- actual or social life, and the colours it receives
ness or contention-nor the mixed motives, from the conduct and dispositions of individand strong and faulty characters, by which  uals, they unconsciously acquire, at a very
affairs of moment are usually conducted on early age, the finest perception of character
the great theatre of the world. For much and manners, and are almost as soon instinctof this they are disqualified by the delicacy ively schooled in the deep and more dangerof their training and habits, and the still more ous learning of feeling and emotion; while
disabling delicacy which pervades their con- the very minuteness with which they make
ceptions and feelings; and from much they and meditate on these interesting observaare excluded by their necessary inexperience  tions, and the finer shades and variations of
of the realities they might wish to describe-  sentiment which are thus treasured and reby their substantial and incurable ignorance corded, trains their whole faculties to a nicety
of business-of the way in which serious and precision of operation, which often disaffairs are actually managed-and the true closes itself to advantage in their application
nature of the agents and impulses that give to studies of a different character. When
movement and direction to the stronger cur- women, accordingly, have turned their minds
rents of ordinary life. Perhaps they are also -as they have done but too seldom-to the
incapable of long moral or political investiga- exposition or arrangement of any branch of
tions, where many complex and indeterminate knowledge, they have commonly exhibited,
elements are to be taken into account, and a we think, a more beautiful accuracy, and a
variety of opposite probabilities to be weighed  more uniform and complete justness of think
before coming to a conclusion. They are ing, than their less discriminating brethren.
generally too impatient to get at the ultimate There is a finish and completeness, in short,
results, to go well through with such discus- about every thing they put out of their hands,
sions; and either stop short at some imper- which indicates not only an inherent taste for
fect view of the truth, or turn aside to repose elegance and neatness, but a habit of nice
in the shade of some plausible error. This, observation, and singular exactness of judghowever, we are persuaded, arises entirely  ment.
from their being seldom set on such tedious   It has been so little the fashion, at any
tasks. Their proper and natural business is time, to encourage worhen to write for publi
the practical regulation of private life, in all cation, that it is more difficult than it should
its bearings, affections, and concerns; and the be, to prove these truths by examples. Yet
questions with which they have to deal in there are enough, within the reach of a very
that most important department, though often careless and superficial glance over the open
of the utmost difficulty and nicety, involve, field qf literature, to enable us to explain, at
for the most part, but few elements; and may least, and illustrate, if not entirely to verify,
generally be better described as delicate than our assertions. No Man, we will venture to
intricate;-requiring for their solution rather say, could have written the Letters of Madame
a quick tact and fine perception, than a pa- de Sevign6, or the Novels of Miss Austin, or
tient or laborious examination. For the same the Hymns and Early Lessons of Mrs. Barreason, they rarely succeed in long works, bauld, or the Conversations of Mrs. Marcet.
even on subjects the best suited to their ge- Those performances, too, are not only essennius; their natural training rendering them  tially and intensely feminine; but they are,
equally averse to long doubt and long labour. in our judgment, decidedly more perfect than
For all other intellectual efforts, however, any masculine productions with which they
either of the understanding or the fancy, and can be brought into comparison. They acrequiring a thorough knowledge either of complish more completely all the ends at
man's strength or his weakness. we appre- which they aim; and are worked out with a
hend them to be, in all respects, as well quali- gracefulness and felicity of execution which
ftied as their brethren of the stronger sex: excludes all idea of failure, and entirely satis.




474                                  POETRY.
ties the expectations they may have raised. that belongs to them, frown the legends of dlf.
We might easily have added to these in- ferent nations, and the most opposite states of
stances. There are many parts of Miss Edge- society; and has contrived to retain much of
worth's earlier stories, and of Miss Mitford's what is interesting and peculiar in each of them,
sketches and descriptions, and not a little of without adopting, along with it, any of the
Mrs. Opie's, that exhibit the same fine and revolting or extravagant excesses which may
penetrating spirit of observation, the same characterise the taste or mannersof the people
softness and delicacy of hand, and unerring or the age from which it has been derived.
truth of delineation, to which we have allud- She has transfused into her German or Scaned as characterising the purer specimens of dinavian legends the imaginative and daring
female art. The same distinguishing traits of tone of the originals, without the mystical
woman's spirit are visible through the grief exaggerations of the one, or the painful fierceand piety of Lady Russel, and the gaiety, the ness and coarseness of the other-she has
spite, and the venturesomeness of Lady Mary preserved the clearness and elegance of the
Wortley. We have not as yet much female French, without their coldness or affectation
poetry; but there is a truly feminine tender- -and the tenderness and simplicity of the
ness, purity, and elegance, in the Psyche of early Italians, without their diffuseness or
Mrs. Tighe, and in some of the smaller pieces langour.  Though occasionally expatiating,
of Lady Craven. On some of the works of somewhat fondly and at large, among the
Madame de Stail-her Corinne especially-  sweets of her own planting, there is, on the
there is a still deeper stamp of the genius of whole, a great condensation and brevity in
her sex. Her pictures of its boundless de- most of her pieces, and, almost without exvotedness-its depth and capacity of suffering ception, a most judicious and vigorous con-its high aspirations-its painful irritability, elusion. The great meriti however, of her
and inextinguishable thirst for emotion, are poetry, is undoubtedly in its tenderness and
powerful specimens of that morbid anatomy its beautiful imagery. The first requires no
of the heart, which no hand but that of a wo- explanation; but we must be allowed to add
man s was fine enough to have laid open, or a word as to the peculiar charm and character
skilful enough to have recommended to our of the latter.
sympathy and love. There is the same ex-   It has always been our opinion, that the
quisite and inimitable delicacy, if not the very essence ofpoetry-apart from the pathos,
same power, in many of the happier passages the wit, or the brilliant description which
of Madame de Souza and Madame Cottin-to may be embodied in it, but may exist equally
say nothing of the more lively and yet melan- in prose-consists in the fine perception and
choly records of Madame de Sta/l, during her vivid expression of that subtle and mysterious
long penance in the court of the Duchesse de Analogy which exists between the physical
Maine.                                    and the moral world-which makes outward
But we are preluding too largely; and must things and qualities the natural types and emcome at once to the point, to which the very blems of inward gifts and emotions, or leads
heading of this article has already admonish- us to ascribe life and sentiment to every thing
ed the most careless of our readers that we that interests us in the aspects of external
are tending. We think the poetry of Mrs. nature. The feeling of this analogy. obscure
Hemans a fine exemplification of Female and inexplicable as the theory of it may be, is
Poetry-and we think it has much of the per- so deep and universal in our nature, that it
fection which we have ventured to ascribe to has stamped itself on the ordinary language
the happier productions of female genius.    of men of every kindred and speech: and
It may not be the best imaginable poetry, that to such an extent, that one half of the
and may not indicate the very highest or most epithets by which we familiarly designate
commanding genius; but it embraces a great moral and physical qualities, are in reality so
deal of that which gives the very best poetry many metaphors, borrowed reciprocally, upon
its chief power of pleasing; and would strike this analogy, from those opposite forms of
us, perhaps, as more impassioned and exalt- existence. The very familiarity, however, of
ed, if it were not regulated and harmonised the expression, in these instances, takes away
by the most beautiful taste. It is singularly its poetical effect-and indeed, in substance,
sweet, elegant, and tender-touching, per- its metaphorical character. The original sense
haps, and contemplative, rather than vehe- of the word is entirely forgotten in the derivament and overpowering; and not only finished tive one to which it has succeeded; and it
throughout with an exquisite delicacy, and requires some etymological recollection to
even severity of execution, but informed with convince us that it was originally nothing else
a purity and loftiness of feeling, and a certain than a typical or analogical illustration. Thus
sober and humble tone of indulgence and we talk of a sparkling wit, and a furious blast
piety, which must satisfy all judgments, and -a weighty argument, and a gentle stream
allay the apprehensions of those who are most -without being at all aware that we are
afraid of the passionate exaggerations of poetry. speaking in the language of poetry, and transThe diction is always beautiful, harmonious, ferring qualities from one extremity of the
and free-and the themes, though of great sphere of being to another. In these cases,
variety, uniformly treated with a grace, orig- accordingly, the metaphor, by ceasing to be
inality and judgment, which mark the same felt. in reality ceases to exist, and the analogy
master hand. These themes she has occa- being no longer intimated, of course can prosionally borrowed, with the peculiar imagery duce no effect. Butwhenever it is intimated,




HEMANS'  POEMS.                                    473
it does produce an effect; and that effect we able in some little pieces, which seem at first
think is poetry.                             sight to be purely descriptive-but are soon
It has substantially two functions, and ope- found to tell upon the heart, with a deep
rates in two directions.  In the first place, moral and pathetic impression.  But it is in
when material qualities are ascribed to mind, truth nearly as conspicuous in the greater part
it strikes vividly out, and brings at once be- of her productions; where we scarcely meet
fore us, the conception of an inward feeling with any striking sentiment that is not ushered
or emotion, which it might otherwise have in by some such symphony of external nabeen difficult to convey, by the presentment ture-and scarcely a lovely picture that does
of some bodily form or quality, which is in- not serve as an appropriate foreground  to
stantly felt to be its true representative, and  some deep or lofty emotion.  We may illusenables us to fix and comprehend it with a force trate this proposition, we think, by opening
and clearness not otherwise attainable; and, either of these little volumes at random, and
in the second place, it vivifies dead and inani- taking what they first present to us.-The
mate matter with the attributes of living and following exquisite lines, for example, on a
sentient mind, and fills the whole visible Palm-tree in an English garden:
universe around us with objects of interest      It wav'd not thro' an Eastern sky,
and sympathy, by tinting them with the hues      Beside a fount of Araby;
of life, and associating them  with our own      It was not fann'd by southern breeze
passions and affections.  This magical opera-    In some green isle of Indian seas,
tion the poet too performs, for the most part,   Nor did its graceful shadow sleep
in one of two ways-either by the direct           O'er stream of Afric, lone and deep.
agency of similies and metaphors, more or   " But far the exil'd Palm-tree grew
less condensed or developed, or by the mere'Midst foliage of no kindred hue;
graceful presentment of such visible objects     Thro' the laburnum's dropping gold
on the scene of his passionate dialogues or  Rose the light shaft of orient mould,
on the scene of his passionate                   And Europe's violets, faintly sweet,
adventures, as partake of the character of       Purpled  the moss-beds at his feet.
the emotion he wishes to excite, and thus        There came an eve of festal hoursform  an appropriate accompaniment or pre-       Rich music fill'd thet garden's bowers:
paration.for its direct indulgence or display.  Lamps, that from flowering branches hung,
The former of those methods has perhaps           On sparks of dew soft colours flung,
been most frequently employed, and certainly      And bright forms glanc'd-a fairy showhas most attracted attention.  But the latter,    Under the blossoms, to and fro.
though less obtrusive, and perhaps less fre-   "But one, a lone one,'midst the throng
quently resorted to of set purpose, is, we are    Seem'd reckless all of dance or song:
inclined to think, the most natural and effica-  He was a youth of dusky mien,
cious of the two; and it is often adopted, we     Whereon the Indian sln had beenbelieve unconsciously, by poets of the highest   A stranger, like the Palm-tree, there!
order;-the predominant emotion of their
minds overflowing spontaneously on all the   "And slowly, sadly mov'd his plumes,
)bjects which present themselves to their        He passGlittering athw'd art the leafy gliveoos bys:
fancy, and calling out from them, and colour-     Nor won the chesnut flowers his eye;
ing with their own hues, those that are natu-    But, when to that sole Palm he came,
rally emblematic of its character, and in ac-    Then shot a rapture through his frame!:ordance with its general expression. It would    "To him, to him its rustling spoke!
be easy to show how habitually this is done,      The silence of his soul it broke!
by Shakespeare and Milton especially, and        It whisper'd of his own bright isle,
how much many of their finest passages are        That it the ocean with a smile
indebted both for force and richness of effect   Aye, to his ear that native tone
indebted both for force and richness of effe7     Had something of the sea-wave's moan!
to this general and diffusive harmony of the
external character of their scenes with the   " His mother's cabin home, that lay
Where feathery cocoas fring'd the bay;
passions of their living agents-this harmoni     The dashing of his brethren's oar;
ing atnl  appropriate glow  with which they      The conch-note heard along the shore;kindie  aae whole surrounding atmosphere,        All thro' his wakening bosom swept;
and bring a-l that strikes the sense into unison  He clasp'd his country's Tree-and wept!
with all that touches the heart.              1" Oh! scorn him not! —The strength, whereby
But it is more to our present purpose to       The patriot girds himself to die,
say, that we think the fair writer before us is'Th' unconquerable power, which fills
eminently a mistress of this poetical secret;     The freeman battling on his hillsand, in truth, it was solely for the purpose of   These have one fountain, deep and clear.illust ating trthis wassolely forthepurpose      The same whence gush'd that child-like tear!"
illustrating this great charm and excellence
in her imagery, that we have ventured upon    The following, which the author has named
this little dissertation.  Almost all her poems "Graves of a Household," has rather less o?
are rich with fine descriptions, and studded  external scenery, but serves, like the others,
over with images of visible beauty. But these to show how well the graphic and pathetic
are never idle ornaments: all her pomps have may be made to set off each other:
a meaning; and her flowers and her gems are       They grew in beauty, side by side,
arranged, as they are said to be among Eastern      They fill'd one home with glee,
lovers, so as to speak the language of truth      Their graves are sever'd, far and wide,
and of passion.  This is peculiarly remark-         By mount, and stream, and sea!




476                                      POETRY.
"The same fond mother bent at night          In a J.tug oagnted spirit! Manhood rears
O'er each fair sleeping brow;           A haughty brow; and Age has done with tees;
She had each folded flower in sight,-      But Youth bows down to mis'ry, in amaze
Where are those dreamers now?           At the dark cloud o'ermantling its fresh days, 
" One, midst the forests of the West,      And thus it was with her. A mournful sight
By a dark stream is laid,-                 In one so fair —for she indeed was fairThe Indian knows his place of rest,        Not with her mother's dazzling eyes of light.
Far in the cedar shade.                    Hers were more shadowy, full of thought and
pray'r;
" The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one!     And with long lashes o'er a white-rose cheek,
He lies where pearls lie deep:           Drooping in gloom, yet tender still and meek.
He was the lov'd of all, yet none
O'er his low bed may weep.                                   "One sunny morn,
"One sleeps where southern vines are drest     With alms before her castle gate she stood,
Above the noble slain:'Midst peasant-groups; when, breathless and o'er.
He wrapt his colours round his breast,             worn,
On a blood-red field of Spain.             And shrouded in long robes of widowhood,
A stranger through them broke:-The orphan maid
t" Asd oneav'er her ts e myrtle snowers  With her sweet voice, and proffer'd hand of aid,
It    s leaves, by soft Italwinds flowers,-ann'd;  Turn'd to give welcome: But a wild sad look
She faded'midst Italian flowers,-         Met hers; a gaze that all her spirit shook;
And that pale woman, suddenly subdued
" And parted thus they rest, who play'd      By some strong passion in its gushing mood,
Beneath the same green tree!            Knelt at her feet, and bath'd them with such tears
Whose voices mingled as they pray'd        As rain the hoarded agonies of years   [press'd
Around one parent knee!                  From  the heart's urn; and with her white lips
" They that with smiles lit up the hall,     The ground they trode; then, burying in her vest
And cheer'd with song the hearth,-       Her brow's deep flush, sobb'd out-' Oh! unAlas! for Love, if thou wert all,                  defil'd!
And nought beyond, oh earth!"           I am thy Mother-spurn me not, my child!'
" Isaure had pray'd for that lost mother; wept
We have taken these pieces chiefly on ac- O'er her stain'd memory, while the happy slept
count of their shortness: But it would not be  In the hush'd midnight; stood with mournfulgaze
fair to Mrs. Hemans not to present our readers Before yon picture's smile of other days,
with one longer specimen-and to give a por- Bit never breath'd in human ear the name
tion of her graceful narrative along with her Which weigh'd her being to the earth with shame.
l*ion  descriptions.  Thisstry of  What marvel if the anguish, the surprise,
athetic descriptions.   This story of "The  The dark remembrances, the alter'd guise,
ady  of the Castle," is told, we think with  Awhileo'erpower'd her?-from the weeper'stouch
great force and sweetness:-                    She shrank!-' Twas but a moment-yet too much
Tou seest er pictur'd wit  er sining air,    For that all-humbled one; its mortal stroke' T    hou  seest her pictur'd wih her shining hal r,    Came down like lightning, and her full heart broke
(Fam'd were those tresses in Proven -al song)    At once in silence. Heavily and prone
Half braided, half o'er cheek and bosom fair   She sank, while, o'er her castle's threshold-stone,
Let loose, and pouring sunny waves along     Those long fair tresses-they still brightly wore
Her gorgeous vest. A child's right hand is roving  Their early pride, though bound with pearls no'Midst the rich curls, and, oh! how meekly loving      moreIts earnest looks are lifted to the face,      Bursting their fillet, in sad beauty roll'd,
Which bends to meet its lip in laughing grace!  And swept the dust with coils of wavy gold.
Yet that bright lady's eye methinks hath less    "Her child bent o'er her-call'd her-'Twas
Of deep, and still, and pensive tenderness,            too lateThan might beseem a mother's: On her brow      Dead lay the wanderer at her own proud gate!
Something too much there sits of native scorn,   The joy of courts, the star of knight and bard,And her smile kindles with a conscious glow. [tell How didst thou fall, 0 bright-hair'd Ermengarde!"
-These may be dreams! But how shall Woman
Of woman's shame, and not with tears?-She fell!    The following sketch of "Joan of Arc in
That mother left that child!-went hurrying by    Rheims," is in a loftie and more ambitious
Its cradle-aply o ne moment o'er its rhouest a  sigh;  vein; but sustained with equal grace, and as
Haply one moment o'er its rest serene
She hung-But no! it could not thus have been,   touching in its solemn tenderness.  We can
For shie went on!-forsook her home, her hearth,  afford to extract but a part of it:All pure affection, all sweet household mirth,                    "Within, the light.
To live a gaudy and dishonour'd thing,           Through the rich gloom of pictur'd windows
Sharing in guilt the splendours of a king.             flowing,
" Her lord, in very weariness of life,       Tinged with soft awfulness a stately sight,
Girt on his sword for scenes of distant strife;  The chivalry of France, their proud heads bowing
He reck'd no more of Glory:-Grief and shame   -In martial vassalage!-while'midst the ring,
Crush'd out his fiery nature, and his name     And shadow'd by ancestral tombs, a king
Died silently. A shadow o'er his halls         Received his birthright's crown. For this, the hymn
Crept year by year; the minstrel pass'd their walls;   Swell'd out like rushing waters, and the day
The warder's horn hung mute: - Meantime the With the sweet censer's misty breath grew dim,
child,                                   As through long aisles it floated, o'er th' array
On whose first flow'ring thoughts no parent smil'd, Of arms and sweeping stoles. But who, alone
A gentle girl, and yet deep-hearted, grew      And unapproach'd, beside the altar stone,   [ing,
Into sad youth: for well, too well she knew    With the white banner, forth like sunshine stream.
Her mother's tale! Its memory made the sky    And the gold helm, through clouds of fragrance
Seem all too joyous for her shrinking eye;             gleaming,
Check'd on her lip the flow of song, which fain    Silent and radiant stood?-The helm was rais'd,
Would there have linger'd; flush'd her cheek to And the fair face reveal'd, that upward gaz'd,
If met by sudden glance; and gave a tone  [pain,   Intensely worshipping;-a still, clear face,
Of sorrow  as for something lovely gone,       Youthful but brightly solemn!-Woman's cheek
Even to the spring's glad voice. Her own was low  And brow were there, in deep devotion meek,
And plaintive!-Oh? there lie such depth of woes   Yet glorified with inspiration's trace!




HEMANS' POEMS.                                       477...... "A triumphant strain,          " There went a swift bird singing past my cell1 proud rich stream of warlike melodies,         O Love and Freedom! ye are lovely things!
Gush'd through the portals of the antique fane,   With you the peasant on the hills may dwell,
And forth she came.".....                       And by the streams; But I-the blood of kings.
" The shouts that fill'd      A proud unmingling river, through my veins
The hollow heaven tempestuously, were still'd                             its gifts are chains!
One moment; and in that brief' pause, the tone,   -Kings!-l had silent visions of dee bliss,
As of a breeze that o'er her home had blown,   Leaving their thrones far distant! and for this
Sank on the bright maid's heart!-' Joanne!' — I am cast under their triumphal car,
Who spoke 2                            An insect to be crush'd!
Like those whose childhood with hier childhood  " Thou hast forsaken me! I feel, I know 
grew                                   There would be rescue if this were not so.
Under one roof?-' Joanne!' —that murmur broke Thou'rt at the chase, thou'rt at the festive board,
With sounds of weeping forth!-She turn'd-  Thou'rt where the red wine free and high is pour'd,
she knew                               Thou'rt where the dancers meet!-a magic glass
Beside her, mark'd from all the thousands there,   Is set within my soul, and proud shapes pass,
In the calm beauty of hiL silver hair,         Flushing it o'er with pomp from bower and hall!
The stately shepherd! and the youth, whose joy   I see one shadow, stateliest there of all,From his dark eye fiash'd proudly; and the boy,   Thine!-What dost Thou amidst the bright and fair,
The youngest-born, that ever lov'd her best!  Whisp'ring light words, and mocking my despair "' Father! and ye my brothers!'-On the breast
Of that grey sire she sank-and swiftly back,     The following, though it has no very distinct
Even in an instant, to the native track  [more! object or moral breathes we think the very
Her free thoughts flow'd. —She saw the pomp no spirit of poetn                          v
The plumes, the banners!-To her cabin door,    sprit of poetry, in its bright and vague pic.
And to the Fairy's Fountain in the glade,      turings, and is well entitled to the name it
Where her young sisters by her side had play'd,   bears -! An Hour of Romance:"And to the hamlet's chapel, where it rose
Hallowing the forest into deep repose,         "There were thick leaves above me and around,
Her spirit turn'd.-The very wood-note, sung      And low sweet sighs, like those of childhood's
In early spring-time by the bird, which dwelt    Amidst their dimness, and a fitful sound   [sleep,
Where o er her father's roof the beech-leaves hung,   As of soft showers on water! Dark and deep
Was in her heart; a music heard and felt,    Lay the oak shadows o'er the turf, so still
Winning her back to nature!-She unbound       They seem'd but picttur'd glooms: a hidden rill
The helm of many battles from her head,      Made music, such as haunts us in a dream,
And, with her bright locks bow'd to sweep the Under the fern-tufts: and a tender gleam
ground,                                Of soft green light, as by the glow-worm shed,
Liftingher voice up, wept for joy, and said,-  Came pouring thro' the woven beech-boughs'Bless tne, my father, bless me! and with thee,   And steep'd the magic page wherein I read [down,
To the still cabin and the beechen-tree,         Of royal chivalry and old renowi;
Let me return!'"                               A tale of Palestine.-Meanwhile the bee
Swept past me with a tone of summrer hours,
There are several strains of a more passion-   A drowsy bugle, wafting thoughts of flowers,
ate character; especially in the two poetical Blue skies and amber sunshine: brightly free,
epistles from  Lady Arabella Stuart and Pro- On filmy wings the purple dragon-fly
Ferzia Rossi. We shall venture to give a few  Shot glancing like a fairy javelin by;
lines from  the former.  The Lady Arabella And a sweet voice of sorrow told the dell
ines from  the former.  The Lady Arabella    Where sat the lote wood-pigeon:
was of royal descent; and having excited the    WhBut ere long,
fears of our pusillanimous James by a secret All sense of these things faded, as the spell
union with the Lord Seymour, was detained  Breathing from that high gorgeous tale grew strong
in a cruel captivity, by that heartless monarch,   On my chain'd soul! —'Twas not the leaves I
till the close of her life —during which she is A Syrian wind the Lion-banner stirr'd,   [heardsupposed to have indited this letter to her Thro' its proud, floating folds!-'twas not the
Slnging in secret thro' its grassy glen;-  [brook,
lover from ]her prison house:-                   A wild shrill trumpet of the Saracen
" My friend, my friend! where art thou? Day by  Peal'd from the desert's lonely heart, and shook
day,                                   The burning air!-Like clouds when winds are
Gliding, like some dark mournful stream, away,   O'er glitt'ring sands flew steeds of Araby;  [high,
My silent youth flows from me! Spring the while, And tents rose up, and sudden lance and spear
Comes, and rains beauty on the kinduing boughs Flash'd where a fountain's diamond wave lay clear,
Round thal and hamlet: Summer, with her smile, Shadow'd by graceful palm-trees! Then the shout
Fills the green forest;-young hearts breathe Of merry England'sjoy swell'd freely out,
their vows;                            Sent thro' an Eastern heaven, whose glorious hue
Brothers, long parted, meet; fair children rise  Made shields dark mirrors to its depth of blue!
Round the glad board: Hope laughs from loving And harps were there;-I heard their sounding
eyes.                                          strings,
As the waste echo'd to the mirth of kings."Ye are from dingle and fresh glade, ye flowers!  The bright masque faded!-Unto life's worn track,
By some kind hand to cheer my dungeon sent;  What call'd me from its flood of glory back?
O'er you the oak shed down the summer showers, A voice of happy childhood!-and they pass'd,
And the lark's nest was where your bright cups Banner, and harp, and Paynim trumpet's blast
bent,                                  Yet might I scarce bewail the splendours gone,
Quivering to breeze and rain-drop, like the sheen   My heart so leap'd to that sweet laughter's tone."
Of twilight stars. On you Heaven's eye hath been,
Through the leaves pouring its dark sultry blue  There is great sweetness in the following
Into your glowing hearts; the bee to you       portion of a little poem on a   Girls School:.2
Hath murmur'd, and the rill.-My soul grows faint
With passionate yearning, as its quick dreams paint "Oh! joyous creatures! that will sink to rest,
Your haunts by dell and stream, —the green, the    Lightly, when those pure orisons are done,
free,                                    As birds with slumber's honey-dew opprest,
Plhe full of all sweet sound,-the shut from me!'Midst the dim folded leaves, at set of sun



478                                     POETRY.
Yet in those flute-like voices, mingling low,  the temptation of noting down every beautiful
Is Woman's tenderness-how soon her woe!   passage which arrests us in turning over the
"Her look is on you-silent tears to weep, [hour; leaves of the volumes before us. We ought
And patient smiles to wear, through suffring's to recollect, too that there are few to whom
And sumless riches, from affection's deep,  our pages are likely to come, who are not
To pour on broken reeds-a wasted show'r!  already familiar with their beauties; and, in.
And to make idols, thatnd to find them cpay,  fact, we have made these extracts, less with
And to bewail that worship!-therefore pray    the presumptuous belief that we are introthe.presumptuous  belief that we are introHer lot is on you! to be found untird,     ducing Mrs. Hemans for the first time to the
Watching the stars out by the bed of pain,    knowledge or admiration of our readers, than
With a pale cheek, and yet a brow inspir'd, 
And a true heart of hope, though hope be vain; from  a desire  of illustrating,  by  means of
Meekly to bear with wrong, to cheer decay,    them, that singular felicity in the choice and
And, oh! to Love through all things!-there.- employment of her imagery, of which we
fore pray!"                          have already spoken so much at large; —that
fine accord she has established between the
in thee lines a fine and stately solennity, too, world of sense and of soul-that delicate
blending of our deep inward emotions with
" Hath the night lost a gem, the regal night?  their splendid symbols and emblems without.
She wears her crown of old magnificence,    We have seen too much of the perishable
Though thou art exiled thence-          nature of modern literary fame, to venture to
No desert seems to part those urns of light,
predict to Mrs. Hemais that hers will be im-'Midst the far depths of purple gloom intense, mortal or even of very long duration.  Since
"' They rise in joy, the starry myriads, burning-  the beginning of our critical career we have
The shepherd greets them on his mountains seen a vast deal of beautiful poetry pass into
And from the silvery sea         [free;       n a vast deal of    beautiful poetry pass ito
To them the sailor's wakeful eye is turning-    oblivion, in spite of our feeble efforts to recall
Unchang'd they rise; they have not mourn'd or retain it in remembrance.  The tuneful
for thee!                             quartos of Southey are already little better
"Couldst thou be shaken from thy radiant place,  than lumber:  and the rich  melodies of
E'en as a dew-drop from the myrtle spray,    Keats and Shelley,-and the fantastical emSwept by the wind away?                phasis of Wordsworth,-and  the  plebeian
Wert thou not peopled by some glorious race?  pathos of Crabbe, are melting fast from the
And was there power to smite them with decay? field of our vision.  The novels of Scott have' Then who shall talk of thrones, of sceptres riv'n? put out his poetry. Even the splendid strains
*Bow'd be our hearts to think on what we are! of Moore are fading into distance and dimWhen from its height afar               ness, except where they have been married
A World sinks thus-and yon majestic heav'n  to immortal music; and the blazing star of
Shines not the less for that one vanish'd star!" Byron himself is receding from  its place of
The following, on "The Dying Improvisa- pride.  We need say nothing of Milman, and
tore," have a rich lyrical cadence, and glow  Croly, and Atherstone, and Hood, and a legion
if deep  feeling: —                           of others, who with no ordinary gifts of taste
and fancy, have not so properly survived their
" Never, oh!  never more,     shalldwellfame as been excluded by some hard fatality,
On thy Rome's purple heaven mine eye shall dwell, from what seemed their just inheritance. The
Or watch the bright waves melt along thy shore-   two who have the longest withstood this rapid
My Italy, farewelo!                    two w have the longest withstood this rapid
"AlasMv-thy  hills, amon,          withering of the laurel, and with the least
" Alas!-thy hila s among,               marks of decay on their branches, are Rogers
Had I but left a memory of my name,          and Campbell; neither of tem, it may be reOf love and grief one deep, true, fervent song,    Campbell; nether of them
Unto immortal fame!'     marked, voluminous writers, and both dis" But like a lute's brief tone,           tinguished rather for the fine taste and conLike a rose-odour on the breezes cast,       summate elegance of their writings, than for
Like a swift flush of dayspring, seen and gone,    that fiery passion, and disdainful vehemence,
So hath my spirit pass'd!               which seemed for a time to be so much more
"Yet, yet remember me!                    in favour with the public.
Friends! that upon its murmurs oft have hung,   If taste and elegance, however, be titles to
When from my bosom, joyously and free,       enduring fame, we might venture securely to
The fiery fountain sprung!              promise that rich boon to the author before
"Under the dark rich blue                us; who adds to those great merits a tender.
Of midnight heav'ns, and on the star-lit sea,  ness and loftiness of feeling, and an ethereal
And when woods kindle into spring's first hue,    purity of sentiment, which could only emaSweet friends! remember me!            nate from the soul of a woman.  She must
"And in the marble halls,                beware, however, of becoming too voluminWhere life's full glow the dreams of beauty wear,  ous; and must not venture again on any thing
And poet-thoughts embodied light the walls,  so long as the "Forest Sanctuary."   utif
Let me be with you there!.
nLet me be with f you, there          the next generation inherits our taste for short
" Fain would I bind, for you,            poems, we  are persuaded it will not readily
My memory with all glorious things to dwell;  allow  her to be forgotten.  For we do not
Fain bid all lovely sounds my name renew —
Sweet friends! bright land! farewell "'    hesitate to say, that she is, beyond all corn
parison, the most touching and accomplished
But we must stop here.  There would be writer of occasional verses that our literature
no end of our extracts, if we were to yield to has yet to boast of.




PHILOSOPHY OF THE MINI),
METAPHYSICS, AND JURISPRUDENCE.
1 AM aware that the title prefixed to this head or Division of the present publication, is
not likely to attract many readers; and, for this reason, I have put much less under it, than
under any of the other divisions. But, having been at one time more addicted to the studies
to which it relates than to any other-and still confessing to a certain partiality for them-I
could not think of letting this collection of old speculations go forth to the world, without some
specimen of those which once found so much favour in my eyes.
I will confess, too, that I am not unwilling to have it known that, so long ago as 1804, I
adventured to break a spear (and I trust not quite ingloriously) in these perilous lists, with two
such redoubted champions as Jeremy Bentham and Dugald Stewart, then in the maturity of
their fame; and also to assail, with equal gallantry, what appeared to me the opposite errors
of the two great Dogmatical schools of Priestley and of Reid.
I will venture also to add, Chat on looking back on what I have now reprinted of these
early lucubrations, I cannot help indulging a fond, though probably delusive expectation, that
the brief and familiar exposition I have there attempted, both of the fallacy of the Materialist
theory, and of the very moderate practical value that can be assigned to Metaphysical discussions generally, and especially of the real shallowness and utter insignificance of the
thorough-going Scepticism (even if unanswerable) to which they have been supposed no lead
may be found neither so tedious, nor so devoid of interest even to the general reader, as the
mere announcement of the subjects might lead him to apprehend.
(At p it,  18~~. )
I'raites de Legislation Civile et Pinale; precedes de Principes Geniraux de Ligislation, et d'une
Vue deun Corps complet de Droit; termines par un Essai sur l'influence des Tems et des
Lieux relativement aux Lois. Par M. JIaERSMIE BENrHAM, Jurisconsulte Anglois. Publies
en Franqois par M. DUMONT de Geneve, d'apres les Manuscrits confies par l'Auteur. 8vo.
3 tom. Paris, an X. 1802.
THE title-page of this work exhibits a curi- While the author displayed, in many places
ous instance of the division of labour; and of great originality and accuracy of thinking, and
the combinations that hold together the lite- gave proofs throughout of a very uncommon
rary commonwealth of Europe. A living degree of courage, acuteness, and impartiality,
author.consents to give his productions to the it was easy to perceive that he was encumworld in the language of a foreign editor; and bered with the magnitude of his subject, and
the speculations of an English philosopher are that his habits of discussion were but ill
published at Paris, under the direction of a adapted to render it popular with the greater
redacteur from Geneva. This arrangement is part of his readers. Though fully possessed
not the most obvious or natural in the world; of his subject, he scarcely ever appeared to
nor is it very flattering to the literature of this be properly the master of it; and seemed evicountry; but we have no doubt that it was dently to move in his- new career with great
adopted for sufficient reasons.          anxiety and great exertion. In the subordiIt is now about fifteen years since Mr. nate details of his work, he is often extremely
Bentham first announced to the world his de- ingenious, clear, and satisfactory; but in the
sign of composing a great work on the Prin- grouping and distribution of its several parts
ciples of morals and legislation. The specimen he is apparently irresolute or capricious; and
which he then gave of his plan, and of his has multiplied and distinguished them by such
abilities, was calculated, we think, to excite a profusion of divisions and subdivisions. that
considerable expectation, and considerable the understanding is nearly as. much bewil.
alarm, in the reading part of the community. dered from the excessive labour and com479




480                   METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
lexity of the arrangement. as it could have Bentham's system  depends is, that Uttaty 
been from its absolute omission. In following and utility alone, is the criterion of right and
out the discussions into which he is tempted wrong, and ought to be the sole object of the
by every incidental suggestion, he is so anxi- legislator.  This principle, he admits, has
ous to fix a precise and appropriate principle often been suggested, and is familiarly recurof judgment, that he not only loses sight of red to both in action and deliberation; but he
the general scope of his performance, but maintains that it has never been followed out
pushes his metaphysical analysis to a degree with sufficient steadiness and resolution. and
of subtlety and minuteness that must prove that the necessity of assuming it as the exclurepulsive to the greater part of his readers. In sive test of our proceedings has never been
the extent and the fineness of those specula- sufficiently understood. There are two printions, he sometimes appears to lose all recol- ciples, he alleges, that have been admitted to
lection of his subject, and often seems to have a share of that moral authority which belongs
tasked his ingenuity to weave snares for his of right to utility alone, and have exercised a
understanding.                             control over the conduct and opinions of soThe powers and the peculiarities which ciety, by which legislators have been very
were thus indicated by the preliminary trea- frequently misled. One of these he denomitise, were certainly such as to justify some nates the Ascetic principle, or that which ensolicitude as to the execution of the principal joins the mortification of the senses as a duty,
work. While it was clear that it would be and proscribes their gratification as a sin * and
well worth reading, it was doubtful if it would the other, which has had a much more extenbe very fit for being read: and while it was sive influence, he calls the principle of Symcertain that it would contain many admirable pathy or Antipathy; under which name he
remarks, and much original reasoning, there comprehends all those systems which place
was room for apprehending that the author's the basis of morality in the indications of a
love of method and metaphysics might place moral Sense, or in the maxims of a rule of
his discoveries beyond the reach of ordinary Right; or which, under any other form of exstudents, and repel the curiosity which the pression, decide upon the propriety of human
importance of the subject was so likely to ex- actions by any reference to internal feelings,
cite. Actuated probably, in part, by the con- and not solely on a consideration of their consciousness of those propensities (which nearly sequences.
disqualified him from being the editor of his   As utility is thus assumed as the test and
own speculations), and still too busily occu- standard of action and approbation, and as it
pied with the prosecution of his great work consists in procuring pleasure and avoiding
to attend to the nice finishing of its parts, Mr. pain, Mr. Bentham has thought it necessary,
Bentham, about six years ago, put into the in this place, to introduce a catalogue of all
hands of M. Dumont a large collection of the pleasures and pains of which he conceives
manuscripts, containing the greater part of man to be susceptible; since these, he alleges,
the reasonings and observations which he are the elements of that moral calculation in
proposed to embody into his projected sys- which the wisdom and the duty of legislators
tem. These materials, M. Dumont assures and individuals must ultimately be found to
us, though neither arranged nor completed, consist. The simple pleasures of which man
were rather redundant than defective in quan- is susceptible are fourteen, it seems, in numtity; and left nothing to the redacteur, but the ber; and are thus enumerated-1. pleasures
occasional labour of selection, arrangement, of sense: 2. of wealth: 3. of dexterity: 4. of
and compression. This task he has performed, good character: 5. of friendship: 6. of power:
as to a considerable part of the papers entrust- 7. of piety: 8. of benevolence: 9. of malevoed to him, in the work now before us; and lence: 10. of memory: 11. of imagination:
has certainly given a very fair specimen both  12. of hope: 13. of association: 14. of relief
of the merit of the original speculations, and from pain. The pains, our readers will be
of his own powers of expression and distribu- happy to hear, are only eleven; and are altion. There are some passages, perhaps, into most exactly the counterpart of the pleasures
which a degree of levity has been introduced that have now been enumerated. The conthat does not harmonise with the general tone struction of these catalogues, M. Dumont conof the composition; and others in which we siders as by far the greatest improvement that
miss something of that richness of illustration has yet been made in the philosophy of huand homely vigour of reasoning which de- man nature!
lighted us in Mr. Bentham's original publica-   It is chiefly by the fear of pain that men
tions; but, in point of neatness and perspicuity, are regulated in the choice of their deliberate
conciseness and precision we have no sort of actions; and Mr. Bentham  finds that pain
doubt that M. Dumont has been of the most may be attached to particular actions in four
essential service to his principal; and are in- different ways: 1. by nature: 2. by public
clined to suspect that, without this assistance, opinion: 3. by positive enactment: and 4. by
we should never have been able to give any the doctrines of religion. Our institutions will
account of his labours.*                    be perfect when all these different sanctions
The principle upon which the whole of Mr. are in harmony with each other.. A.      But the most difficult part of our author's
her considerable portion of the orilnal paper task remains. In order to make any use of
is here omitted; and those parts only retained,
which relate to the general principle and scope of those "elements of moral arithmetic." which
the system.                                 are constituted, by the lists of our pleasures




BENTHAM  ON LEGISLATION.                               481
and pains, it was evidently necessary'to as- and therefore can afford no fixed standard for
certain their relative Value, —to enable him to general approbation or enjoyment. Now we
proceed in his legislative calculations with any cannot help thinking, that this fundamentai
degree of assurance. Under this head, how- proposition is very defective, both in logical
ever, we are only told that the value of a consistency, and in substantial truth. In the
pleasure or a pain, considered in itself, de- first place, it seems very obvious' that the
pends, 1. upon its intensity, 2. upon its prox- principle of utility is liable to the very same
imity, 3. upon its duration, and 4. upon its objections, on the force of which the authority
certainty; and that, considered with a view  of moral impressions has been so positively
to its consequences, its value is further affect- denied. For how shall utility itself be recoged, 1. by its fecundity, i. e. its tendency to nised, but by a feeling exactly similar to that
produce other pleasures or pains; 2. by its which is stigmatised as capricious and unac
purity, i. e. its being unmixed with other sen- countable? How are pleasures and pains, and
sations; and, 3. by the number of persons to the degrees and relative magnitude of pleawhom it may extend. These considerations, sures and pains, to be distinguished, but by
however, the author justly admits to be still the feeling and experience of every individual 
inadequate for his purpose; for, by what And what greater certainty can there be in
mezits is the Intensity of any pain or pleasure the accuracy of such determinations, than in
to be measured, and how, without a knowledge the results of other feelings no less general
of this, are we to proportion punishments to and distinguishable? If right and wrong, in
temptations, or adjust the measures of recom- short, be not precisely the same to every in
pense or indemnification? To solve this pro- dividual, neither are pleasure and pain; and
blem, Mr. Bentham seems to have thought it if there be despotism and absurdity in impossufficient to recur to his favourite system of ing upon another, one's own impressions of
Enumeration; and to have held nothing else wisdom and propriety, it cannot be just and
necessary than to make out a fair catalogue reasonable to erect a standard of enjoyment,
of "the circumstances by which the sensi- and a consequent rule of conduct, upon the
bility is affected." These he divides into two narrow basis of our own measure of sensibility.
branches-the primary and the secondary. It is evident, therefore, that by assuming the
The first he determines to be exactly fifteen, principle of utility, we do not get rid of the
viz. temperament-health-strength-bodily  risk of variable feeling; and that we are still
imperfection - intelligence - strength of un- liable to all the uncertainty that may be proderstanding- fortitude - perseverance-dis- duced by this cause, under the influence of
positions-notions of honour - notions of reli- any other principle.
gion-sympathies-antipathies - folly or de-   The truth is, however, that this uncertainty
rangement-fortune. The secondary are only is in all cases of a very limited nature'; and
nine, viz. sex-age - rank-education -pro- that the common impressions of morality, the
fession-climate — creed — government — re- vulgar distinctions of right and wrong, virtue
ligious creed. By carefully attending to these and vice, are perfectly sufficient to direct the
twenty-four circumstances, Mr. Bentham is of conduct of the individual, and the judgment
opinion that we may be able to estimate the of the legislator, for all useful purposes, withvalue of any particular pleasure or pain to an out any reference to the nature or origin of
individual, with sufficient exactness; and to those distinctions. In many respects, indeed,
judge of the comparative magnitude of crimes, we conceive them to be much fitter for this
and of the proportionate amount of pains and purpose than Mr. Bentham's oracles of utility.
compensations.                              In the first place, it is necessary to observe,
Now the first remark that suggests itself is, that it is a very gross and unpardonable misthat if there is little that is false or pernicious take to represent the notions of right anc
in this system, there is little that is either new  wrong, which are here in question, as dependor important. That laws were made to pro- ing altogether upon the private and capricious
mote the general welfare of society, and that feelings of an individual. Certainly no map
nothing should be enacted which hais a differ- was ever so arrogant or so foolish, as to insist
ent tendency, are truths that can scarcely upon establishing his own individual persuaclaim the merit of novelty, or mark an epoch sion as an infallible test of duty and wisdom
by the date of their promulgation; and we for all the rest of the world. The moral feelhave not yet been able to discover that the ings, of which Mr. Bentham would make so
vast technical apparatus here provided by Mr. small account, are the feelings which obserBentham  can be of the smallest service in vation has taught us to impute to all men,
improving their practical application.      those in which, under every variety of cir
The basis of the whole system is the undi- cumstances, they are found pretty constantly
vided sovereignty of the principle of Utility, to agree, and as to which the uniformity of
and the necessity which there is for recurring their conclusions may be reasoned and reckstrictly to it in every question of legislation. oned upon, with almost as much security as
Moral feelings, it is admitted, will frequently in the case of their external perceptions
be found to coincide with it; but they are on The existence of such feelings, and the uni
no account to be trusted to, till this coinci- formity with which they are excited in all
dence has been verified. They are no better, men on the same occasions, ale facts, in short,
in short, than sympathies and antipathies, that admit of no dispute; and, in point of cermere private and unaccountable feelings, that tainty and precision, are exactly on a footing
may vary in the case of every individual; with those perceptions of utility that can only
81




482                   METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
be relied on after they also have been verified wards attempt, unsuccessfully, though with
by a similar process of observation. Nqw, great labour, to repeat. They may be co.tLwe are inclned to think, in opposition to Mr. pared. on this view of the matter, to thoro
Bentham, tnat a legislator will proceed more acquired perceptions of sight by which the eye
safely by following the indications of those is enabled to judge of distances; of the promoral distinctions as to which all men are cess of acquiring which we are equally unagreed, tnan by setting them altogether at conscious, and yet by which it is certain that
defiance, and attending exclusively to those we are much more safely and commodiously
perceptions of utility which, after all, he must guided, within the range of our ordinary occucollect from tile same general agreement.-    pations, than we ever could be by any formal
It is now, we believe, universally admitted, scientific calculations, founded on the faint.
that nothing can be generally the object of ness of the colouring, and the magnitude of the
moral approbation, which does not tend, upon angle of vision) compared with the average
the whole. to the good of mankind; and we tangible bulk of the kind of object in question.
are not pven disposed to dispute with Mr.   The comparative value of such good and
Bentham, that the true source of this moral evil, we have already observed, can obviously
approbation is in all cases a perception or ex- be determined by feeling alone; so that the
perience of what may be called utility in the interference of technical and elaborate reasonaction or object which excites it. The dif- ing, though it may well be supposed to disturb
ference between us, however, is considerable; those perceptions upon the accuracy of which
and it is precisely this-Mr. Bentham main- the determination must depend, cannot in any
tains, that in all cases we ought to disregard case be of the smallest assistance. Where
the presumptions arising from moral approba- the preponderance of good or evil is distinctly
tion, and by a resolute and scrupulous analy- felt by all persons to whom a certain combisis, to get at the actual, naked utility upon nation of feelings has been thus suggested
which it is founded; and then, by the appli- we have all the evidence for the reality of
cation of his new moral arithmetic, to deter- this preponderance that the nature of the
mine its quantity, its composition, and its subject will admit; and must try in vain to
value; and, according to the result of this in- traverse that judgment, by any subsequent
vestigation, to regulate our moral approbation exertion of a faculty that has no jurisdiction
for the future. We, on the other hand, are in the cause. The established rules and iminclined to hold, that those feelings, where pressions of morality, therefore, we consider
they are uniform and decided, are by far the as the grand recorded result of an infinite
surest tests of the quantity and value of the multitude of experiments upon human feeling
utility by which they are suggested; and that and fortune, under every variety of circumif we discredit their report, and attempt to as- stances; and as affording, therefore, by far
certain this value by any formal process of cal- the nearest approximation to a just standard
culation or analysis, we desert a safe and natu- of the good and the evil that human conduct
ral standard, in pursuit of one for the construc- is concerned with, which the nature of our
tion of which we neither have, nor ever can faculties will allow. In endeavouring to corhave, any rules or materials. A very few ob- rect or amend this general verdict of mankind,
servations, we trust, will set this in a clear light. in any particular instance, we not only substiThe amount, degree, or intensity of any tute our own individual feelings for that large
pleasure or pain, is ascertained by feeling; average which is implied in those moral imand not determined by reason or reflection. pressions, which are universally prevalent,
These feelings however are transitory in their but obviously run the risk of omitting or misown nature, and, when they occur separately, taking some of the most important elements
and, as it were, individually, are not easily of the calculation.  Every one at all acrecalled with such precision as to enable us, customed to reflect upon the operations of:upon recollection, to adjust their relative val- his mind, must be conscious how difficult it
ues. But when they present themselves in is to retrace exactly those trains of thought,combinations, or in rapid succession, their which pass through the understanding almost
relative magnitude or intensity is generally without giving us any intimation of their experceived by the mind without any exertion, istence, and how impossible it frequently is
and rather by a sort of immediate feeling, to repeat any process of thought, when we
than in consequence of any intentional com- purpose to make it the subject of observation.
parison: And when a particular combination The reason of this is, that our feelings are not
or succession of such feelings is repeatedly or in their natural state when we would thus
frequently suggested to the memory, the rela- make them the objects of study or analysis;
tive value of all its parts is perceived with and their force and direction are far better
great readiness and rapidity, and the general estimated, therefore, from the traces which
Iesult is fixed in the mind, without our being they leave in their spontaneous visitations,
conscious of any act of reflection.  In this than from any forced revocation of them for
way, moral maxims and impressions arise in the purpose of being measured or compared.
the mirns of all men, from an instinctive and When the object itself is inaccessible, it is
involuntary valuation of the good and the evil wisest to compute its magnitude from  its
which tney have perceived to be connected shadow; where the cause cannot be directly
with certain actions or habits; and those im- examined, its qualities are most securely in.
pressions may safely be taken for the just re- ferred from its effects.
sult of that valuation, which we may after-   One of the most obvious consequences ol




BENTHAM  ON LEGISLATION.                              483
disregarding the general impressions of mo- tions taken in the calm, by which we lnust
rality, and determining every individual ques- be guided in the darkness and the terror of
tion upon a rigorous estimate of the utility it the tempest; they are beacons and strongholds
might appear to involve, would be, to give an erected in the day of peace, round which we
additional force to the causes by which our must rally, and to which we must betake ourjudgments are most apt to be perverted. and selves, in the hour of contest and alarm.
entirely to abrogate the authority of those   For these reasons, and for others wnicn our
General rules by which alone men are com- limits will not now permit us to hint at, we
monly enabled to judge of their own conduct are of opinion, that the old established mowith any tolerable impartiality. If we were rality of mankind ought upon no account to
to dismiss altogether from our consideration give place to a bold and rigid investigation
those authoritative maxims, which have been into the utility of any particular act, or any
sanctioned by the general approbation of man- course of action that may be made the subkind, and to regulate our conduct entirely by ject of deliberation; and that the safest and
a view of the good and the evil that promises the shortest way to the good which we all
to be the consequence of every particular desire is the beaten highway of morality,
action, there is reason to fear, not only that which was formed at first by the experience
inclination might occasionally slip a false of good and of evil.
weight into the scale, but that many of the   But our objections do not apply merely to
most important consequences of our actions the foundation of Mr. Bentham's new system
might be overlooked. Those actions are bad, of morality: We think the plan and execuaccording to Mr. Bentham, that produce more tion of the superstructure itself defective in
evil than good: But actions are performed by many particulars. Even if we could be perindividuals; and all the good may be to the suaded that it would be wiser in general to
individual, and all the evil to the community. follow the dictates of utility than the impresThere are innumerable cases, in which the sions of moral duty, we should still say that
advantages to be gained by the commission the system contained in these volumes does
of a crime are incalculably greater (looking not enable us to adopt that substitute: and
only to this world) than the evils to which it that it really presents us with no means of
may expose the criminal. This holds in al- measuring or comparing utilities. After pemost every instance where unlawful passions rusing M. Dumont's eloquent observations on
may be gratified with very little risk of de- the incalculable benefits which his author's
tection. A mere calculation of utilities would discoveries were to confer on the science of
never prevent such actions; and the truth legislation, and on the genius and good fortune
undoubtedly is, that the greater part of men by which he had been enabled to reduce
are only withheld from committing them by morality to the precision of a science, by fixthose general impressions of morality, which ing a precise standard for the good and evil
it is the object of Mr. Bentham's system to of our lives, we proceeded with the perusal
supersede. Even admitting, what might well of Mr. Bentham's endless tables and divisions,
be denied, that, in all cases, the utility of the with a mixture of impatience, expectation,
individual is inseparably connected with that and disappointment. Now that we have finof society, it will not be disputed, at least, ished our task, the latter sentiment alone
that this connection is of a nature not very remains; for we perceive very clearly that
striking or obvious, and that it may frequently M. Dumont's zeal and partiality have imposed
be overlooked by an individual deliberating upon his natural sagacity, and that Mr. Benon the consequences of his projected actions. tham has just left the science of morality in
It is in aid of this oversight, of this omission, the same imperfect condition in which it was
of this partiality, that we refer to the General left by his predecessors. The whole of Mr.
rules of morality; rules, which have been Bentham's catalogues and distinctions tend
suggested by a larger observation, and a longer merely to point out the Number of the causes
experience, than any individual can dream of that produce our happiness or misery, but by
pretending to, and which have been accom- no means to ascertain their relative Magnitude
modated, by the joint action of our sympathies or force; and the only effect of their in troducwith delinquents and with sufferers, to the tion into the science of morality seems to be
actual condition of human fortitude and in- to embarrass a popular subject with a technical
firmity. If they be founded on utility, it is nomenclature, and to perplex familiar truths
on an utility that cannot always be discovered; with an unnecessary intricacy of arrangement.
and that can never be correctly estimated, in   Of the justice of this remark any one may
deliberating upon a particular measure, or satisfy himself, by turning back to the tables
with a view to a specific course of conduct: and classifications which we have exhibited
It is on an utility that does not discover itself in the former part of this analysis, and trying
till it is accumulated; and only becomes ap- if he can find there any rules for estimating
parent after a large collection of examples the comparative value of pleasures and pains,
have been embodied in proof of it. Such that are not perfectly familiar to the most unsummaries of utility, such records of uniform  instructed of the species. In the table of
observation, we conceive to be the General simple pleasures, for instance, what satisfac
rules of Morality, by which, and by which tion can it afford to find the pleasure of riches
alone, legislators or individuals can be safely set down as a distinct genus from the pleasure
directed in determining on the propriety of of power, and the pleasure of the sensesmny course of conduct. They are observa- unless some scale were annexed bY which the




484                   METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
respective value of these several pleasures are necessarily familiar to all mankind, and
might be ascertained? If a man is balancing cannot possibly be forgotten on any occasion
between the pain of privation and the pain where it is of importance to remember them
of shame, how is he relieved by merely find- If bad laws have been enacted, it certainly is
ing these arranged under separate titles? or, not from having forgotten that the good of
in either case, will it give him any informa- society is the ultimate object of all law, or
tion, to be told that the value of a pain or that it is absurd to repress one evil by the
pleasure depends upon its intensity, its dura- creation of a greater. Legislators have often
tion, or its certainty I If a legislator is desi- bewildered themselves in the choice of means;
rous to learn what degree of punishment is but they have never so grossly mistaken the
suitable to a particular offence, will he be ends of their institution, as to need to be regreatly edified to read that the same punish- minded of these obvious and elementary
ment may be more or less severe according truths.
to the temperament, the intelligence, the   If there be any part of Mr. Bentham's clasrank, or the fortune of the delinquent; and sification that might be supposed to assist us
that the circumstances that influence sensi- in appreciating the comparative value of
bility,'though commonly reckoned to be only pleasures and pains, it must certainly be his
nine, may fairly be set down at fifteen I Is enumeration of the circumstances that affect
there any thing, in short, in this whole book, the sensibility of individuals. Even if this
that realises the triumphant Introduction of table were to fulfil all that it promises, howthe editor, or that can enable us in any one ever, it would still leave the system fundainstance to decide upon the relative magnitude mentally deficient, as it does not enable us to
of an evil, otherwise than by a reference to compare the relative amount of any two pleathe common feelings of mankind? It is true, sures or pains, to individuals in the same cirwe are perfectly persuaded, that by the help cumstances.  In its particular application,
of these feelings, we can form a pretty correct however, it is truly no less defective; for
judgment in most cases that occur; but Mr. though we are told that temperament, intelliBentham is not persuaded of this; and insists gence, &c. should vary the degree of punishupon our renouncing all faith in so incorrect ment or reward, we are not told to what extent,
a standard, while he promises to furnish us or in what proportions, it should be varied by
with another that is liable to no sort of inac- these circumstances. Till this be done, howcuracy. This promise we do not think he has ever, it is evident that the elements of Mr.
in any degree fulfilled; because he has given Bentham's moral arithmetic have no determius no rule by which the intensity of any pain nate value; and that it would be perfectly
or pleasure can be determined; and furnish- impossible to work any practical problem in
ed us with no instrument by which we may legislation by the help of them. It is scarcely
take the altitude of enjoyment, or fathom the necessary to add, that even if this were acdepths of pain. It is no apology for having complished, and the cognisance of all these
made this promise, that its fulfilment was particulars distinctly enjoined by the law, the
evidently impossible.                     only effect would be, to introduce a puerile
In multiplying these distinctions and divi- and fantastic complexity into our systems of
sions which form the basis of his system, Mr. jurisprudence, and to encumber judicial proBentham appears to us to bear less resem- cedure with a multitude of frivolous or imblance to a philosopher of the present times, practicable observances. The circumstances,
than to one of the old scholastic doctors, who in consideration of which Mr. Bentham would
substituted classification for reasoning, and have the laws vary the punishment, are so
looked upon the ten categories as the most numerous and so indefinite, that it would reuseful of all human inventions. Their dis- quire a vast deal more labour to ascertain
tinctions were generally real, as well as his, their existence in any particular case, than to
and could not have been made without the establish the principal offence. The first is
misapplication of much labour and ingenuity: Temperament; and in a case of flogging, we
But it is now generally admitted that they are suppose Mr. Bentham  would remit a few
of no use whatever, either for the promotion lashes to a sanguine and irritable delinquent,
of truth, or the detection of error; and that and lay a few additional stripes on a phlegthey only serve to point out differences that matic or pituitous one. But how is the temcannot be overlooked, or need not be remem- perament to be given in evidence? or are the
bered. There are many differences and many Judges to aggravate or alleviate a punishment
points of resemblance in all actions, and in upon a mere inspection of the prisoner's comall substances. that are absolutely indifferent plexion. Another circumstance that should
in any serious reasoning that may be entered affect the pain, is the offendE r's firmness of
into with regard to them; and though much mind; and another his strength of nrde rstand.
industry and much acuteness maybe display- ing. How is a court to take cognisance of
ed m finding them out, the discovery is just these qualities? or in what degree are they to
as unprofitable to science, as the enumeration affect their proceedings? If we are to admit
of the adverbs in the creed, or the dissyllables such considerations into our law at all, they
in the decalogue, would be to theology. The ought to be carried a great deal farther than
greater number of Mr. Bentham's distinctions, Mr. Bentham has indicated; and it should be
however, are liable to objection, because they expressed in the statutes, what alleviation of
state, under an intricate and technical arrange- punishment should be awarded to a culprit
ment, those facts and circumstances only that on account of his wife's pregnancy, or the




BENTHAM  ON LEGISLATION.                               488
colour of his children's hair. We cannot help through the subsequent part of his book, Mr.
thinking that the undistinguishinggrossness of Bentham seems to forget that there is such a
our actual practice is better than such foppery. thing as common sense in the world; and to
We fix a punishment which is calculated for take it for granted, that if there be an opening
the common, average condition of those to in the letter of the law for folly, misapprehenwhom it is to be applied; and, in almost all sion, or abuse, its ministers will eagerly take
cases, we leave with the judge a discretionary advantage of it, and throw the whole frame of
power of accomlmodating it to anypeculiarities society into disorder and wretchedness. A
that may seem to require an exception. After very slight observation of the actual business
all, this is the most plausible part of Mr. Ben- of life might have taught him, that expediency
tham's arrangements.                       may, for the most part, be readily and cerIn what he has said of the false notions tainly discovered by those who are interested
which legislators have frequently followed in in finding it; and that in a certain stage of
preference to the polar light of utility, we civilisation there is generated such a quantity
think we discover'a good deal of inaccuracy, of intelligence and good sense, as to disarm
and some little want of candour. Mr. Ben- absurd institutions of their power to do mistham must certainly be conscious that no one chief, and to administer defective laws into a
ever pretended' that the mere antiquity of a system of practical equity. This indeed is
law was a sufficient reason for retaining it, in the grand corrective which remedies all the
spite of its evident inutility: But when the errors of legislators, and retrenches all that is
utility of parting with it is doubtful, its an- pernicious in prejudice. It makes us indetiquity may fairly be urged as affording a pre- pendent of technical systems, and indifferent
sumption in its favour, and as a reason for to speculative irregularities; and hewho could
being cautious at least in the removal of what increase its quantity, or confirm  its power
must be incorporated with so many other in- would do more service to mankind than all
stitutions.  We plead the antiquity of our the philosophers that ever speculated on the
Constitution as an additional reason for not means of their reformation.
yielding it up to innovators: but nobody ever   In the following chapter we meet with a
thought, we believe, of advancing this plea in perplexity which, though very ingeniously
support of the statutes agtainst Witchcraft. In produced, appears to us to be wholly gratuithe same way, we think, there is more wit tous. Mr. Bentham for a long time can see
than reason in ascribing the errors of many no distinction between Civil and Criminal
legislators to their being misled by a metaphor. jurisprudence; and insists upon it, that rights
The metaphor, we are inclined to think, has and crimes necessarily and virtually imply
generally arisen from the principle or practice each other. If I have a right to get your
to which Mr. Bentham would give effect in- horse, it is only because it would be a crime
dependent of it. The law of England respects for you to keep him from me; and if it be a
the sanctity of a free citizen's dwelling so crime for me to take your horse, it is only bemuch, as to yield it some privilege; and there- cause you have a right to keep him. This
fore an Englishman's house is called his Castle. we think is very pretty reasoning: But the
The piety or superstition of some nations has distinction between the civil and the criminal
determined that a criminal cannot be arrested law is not the less substantial and apparent.
in a place of worship. This is the whole fact- The civil law is that which directs and enthe usage is neither explained nor convicted joins-the criminal law is that which Punishes.
of absurdity, by saying that such people call This is enough for the legislator  and for those
a church the House of God. If it were the who are to obey him. It is a curious inquiry,
house of God, does Mr. Bentham  conceive no doubt, how far all rights may be considered
that it ought to be a sanctuary for criminals? as the counterpart of crimes; and whether
In what is said of the Fictions of law, there every regulation of the civil code necessarily
is much of the same misapprehension. Men implies a delict in the event of its violation.
neither are, nor ever were, misguided by On this head there is room for a good deal of
these fictions; but the fictions are merely cer- speculation; but in our opinion Mr. Bentham
tain quaint and striking methods of exp:'ssing pushes the principle much too far. There
a rule that has been adopted in an applrhen-  seems to be nothing gained, for instance,
sicin of its utility. To deter men from com- either in the way of clearness or consistency,
mitting treason, their offspring is associated  by arranging under the head of criminal lawv,
to a certain extent in their punishment. The those cases of refusal to fulfil contracts, or to
motive and object of this law is plain enough; perform obligations. for which no other punand calling the effect " Corruption of blood," ishment is or ought to be provided, but a cornwill neither aggravate nor hide its injustice. pulsory fulfilment or performance. This is
When it is said that the heir is the same per- merely following out the injunction of the
son with the deceased, it is but a pithy way civil code, and cannot, either in law or in logic,
of intimating that he is bound in all the obli- be correctly regarded as a punishment. The
gations. and entitled to all the rights of his proper practical test of a crime, is where, over
predecessor. That the King never dies. is and above the restitution of the violated right
only another phrase for expressing that the (where that is possible), the violator is suboffice is never vacant; and that he is every jected to a direct pain, in order to dteter from
where, is true, if it be lawful to say that a the repetition of such offences.
person can act by deputy. In all these ob-   In passing to the code of crimina I law, Mi.
&ervations, and in many that are scattered Bentham does not forget the necemi ty of class



486                   METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
ifying and dividing.  Delicts, according to  he is for making the delinquent pronmoulce.
him are either, 1. Private, or against one or discourse of humiliation, either standing, or on
a few individuals; 2. Reflective, or against the  his knees, before the offended party, and
delinquent himself; 3. Semipublic, or against clothed in emblematical robes, with a mask
some particular class or description of per- of a characteristic nature on his head, &t
sons; and, finally, Public, or against the whole  There possibly may be countries where sucl
community.  Private delicts, again,. relate  contrivances might answer; but with us,
either to the person, the property, the repu-  they would not only be ineffectual, but ridictation or the condition; and they are distrib-  ulous.
uted into complex and simple, principal and    In the choice of punishments, Mr. Bentham
accessory, positive and negative, &c. &c. The  wishes legislators to recollect, that punishchief evil of a crime is the alarm which it ment is itself an evil; and that it consists of
excites in the community; and the degree of  five parts; —the evil of restraint-the evil of
this alarm, Mr. Bentham assumes, depends  suffering-the evil of apprehension-the evil
upon eight circumstances, the particular situa- of groundless persecution —and the evils that
tion of the delinquent. his motives, his noto- extend to the innocent connections of the deriety, his character, the difficulties or facilities  linquent. For these reasons, he is anxious that
of the attempt, &c. But here again, we see  no punishment should be inflicted without a
no sense in the enumeration; the plain fact real cause, or without being likely to influence
being, that the alarm is increased by every  the will; or where other remedies might
thing which renders it probable that such acts have been employed; or in cases where the
may be frequently repeated. In one case, and  crime produces less evil than the punishment.
one of considerable atrocity, there is no alarm  These admonitions are all very proper, and,
at all; because the only beings who can be  we dare say, sincere; but we cannot think
affected by it, are incapable of fear or suspi- that they are in any way recommended by
cion-this is the case of infanticide: and Mr. their novelty.
Bentham ingeniously observes, that it is pro-   In the section upon the indirect means of
bably owing to this circumstance that the  preventing crimes, there is a great deal of
laws of many nations have been so extremely  genius and strong reasoning; though there
indifferent on that subject. In modern Eu- are many things set down in too rash and perrope, however, he conceives that they are  emptory a manner, and some that are supbarbarously severe. In the case of certain  ported with a degree of flippancy not very
crimes against the community, such as mis- suitable to the occasion. The five main sources
government of all kinds, the danger again is of offence he thinks are, want of occupation,
always infinitely greater than the alarm.  the angry passions, the passion of the sexes,
The remedies which law  has provided  the love of intoxication, and the love of gain.
against the mischief of crimes, Mr. Bentham  As society advances, all-these lose a good
says; are of four orders; preventive-repres-  deal of their mischievous tendency, excepting
sive-compensatory-or simply penal. Upon  the last; against which, of course, the legislathe subject of compensation or satisfaction,  ture should be more vigilant than ever. In
Mr. Bentham is most copious and most origi-  the gradual predominance of the avaricious
nal; and under the title of satisfaction in  passions over all the rest, however, Mr. Benhonour, he presents us with a very calm, tham sees many topics of consolation; and
acute, and judicious inquiry into the effects  concludes this part of his work with declarof duelling; which he represents as the only  ing, that it shpuld be the great object of the
remedy which the impolicy or impotence of  criminal law to reduce all offences to that
our legislators has left for such offences. We  species which can be completely atoned for
do not think, however, that the same good  and repaired by payment of a sum of money.
sense prevails in what he subjoins, as to the  It is a part of his system, which we have formeans that might be employed to punish in- gotten to mention, that persons so injured
sults and attacks upon the honour of individu-  should in all cases be entitled to reparation
als. According to the enormity of the offence, out of the public purse.
(3anuarp, 1808.)
Account of the Life and Wtritings of Thomas Reid, D. D. F. R. S., Edinburgh, late Professor of
Moral Philosophy in the University of Glasgow. By DUGALD STEWART, F. R. S. Edinburgh:
Read at different Meetings of the Royal Society of Edinburgh. 8vo. pp. 225. Edinburgh
and London: 1803.
ALTHOUGH it is impossible to entertain  Stewart's elucidation and defence of it. That
greater respect for any names than we do for elucidation begins, indeed, with a remark,
those that are united in the title of this work, which we are not at all disposed to controwve must be permitted to say, that there are vert; that the distinguishing feature of Dr.
many things with which we cannot agree, Reid's philosophy is the systematical steadiboth in the system of Dr. Reid, and in Mr. ness with which he has adhered to the course




STEWART'S LIFE OF REID.                            48'
of correct observation, and the admirable self- complished by the star-gazers who preceded
command by which he has confined himself him; and the law of gravitation, which he
to the clear statement of the facts he has col- afterwards applied to the planetary system,
lected: But then Mr. Stewart immediately was first calculated and ascertained by experifollows up this observation with a warm en- ments performed upon substances which were
comium on the inductive philosophy of Lord entirely at his disposal.
Bacon, and a copious and eloquent exposition   It will scarcely be denied, either, that it is
eof the vast advantage that may be expected almost exclusively to this department of pro
from applying to the science of Mind those per Experiment, that Lord Bacon has directed
sound rules of experimental philosophy that the attention of his followers.  His fundahave undoubtedly guided us to all the splen- mental maxim is, that knowledge is power;
did improvements in modern physics. From  and the great problem which he constantly
the time indeed that Mr. Hume published his aims at resolving is, in what manner the natreatise of human nature, down to the latest ture of any substance or quality may, by exspeculations of Condorcet and Mr. Stewart periment, be so detected and ascertained as
himself, we have observed this to be a favour- to enable us to manage it at our pleasure
ite topic with all metaphysical writers; and The greater part of the Novum Organum ac
that those who have differed in almost every cordingly is taken up with rules and examples
thing else, have agreed in magnifying the im- for contriving and conducting experiments;
portance of such inquiries, and in predicting and the chief advantage which he seems to
the approach of some striking improvement in have expected from the progress of those inthe manner of conducting them.           quiries, appears to be centered in the enlarge
Now, in these speculations we cannot help ment of man's dominion over the materia.
suspecting that those philosophers have been universe which he inhabits. To the mere
misled in a considerable degree by a false Observer, therefore, his laws of philosophising,
analogy; and that their zeal for the promotion except where they are prohibitory laws: have
of their favourite studies has led them to form  but little application; and to such an inquirer,
expectations somewhat sanguine and extrava- the rewards of his philosophy scarcely appear
gant, both as to their substantial utility and to have been promised. It is evident indeed
as to the possibility of their ultimate improve- that no direct utility can result from the most
ment. In reality, it does not appear to us accurate observation of occurrences which we
that any great advancement in the knowledge cannot control; and that for the uses to which,)f the operations of mind is to be expected such observations may afterwards be turned,
from any improvement in the plan of investi- we are indebted not so much to the observer,
gation; or that the condition of mankind is as to the person who discovered the applicalikely to derive any great benefit from the tion. It also appears to be pretty evident
cultivation of this interesting but abstracted that in the art of observation itself, no very
study.                                   great or fundamental improvement can be
Inductive philosophy, or that which pro- expected. Vigilance and attention are all that
ceeds upon the careful observation of facts, can ever be required in an observer; and
may be applied to two different classes of though a talent for methodical arrangement
phenomena. The first are those that can be may facilitate to others the study of the facts
made the subject of proper Experiment: that have been collected, it does not appear
where the substances are actually in our how our actual knowledge of those facts can
power, and the judgment and artifice of the be increased by any new method of describing
inquirer can be effectually employed to ar- them. Facts that we are unable to modify or
range and combine them in such a way as to direct, in short, can only be the objects of obdisclose their most hidden properties and re- servation; and observation can only inform
lations. The other class of phenomena are us that they exist, and that their succession
those that occur in substances that are placed appears to be governed by certain general
altogether beyond our reach; the order and laws.
succession of which we are generally unable   In the proper Experimental philosophy,
to control; and as to which we can do little every acquisition of knowledge is an increase
more than collect and record the laws by of power; because the knowledge is neceswhich they appear to be governed. Those sarily derived from some intentional disposisubstances are not the subject of Experiment, tion of materials which we may always combut of Observation; and the knowledge we mand in the same manner. In the philosomay obtain, by carefully watching their varia- phy of observation, it is merely a gratification
tions, is of a kind that does not directly in- of our curiosity.  By experiment, too, we
crease the power which we might otherwise generally acquire a pretty correct knowledge
have had over them. It seems evident, how- of the causes of the phenomena we produce;
3vers that it is principally in the former of as we ourselves have distributed and arranged
these departments, or the strict experimental the circumstances upon which they depend;
hilosophy, that those splendid improvements while, in matters of mere observation, the
have been made, which have erected so vast assignment of causes must always be in a
a trophy to the- prospective genius of Bacon. good degree conjectural, inasmuch as we have
The astronomy of Sir Isaac Newton is no ex- no means of separating the preceding phenoception to this general remark: All that mere mena, or deciding otherwise than by analogy,
Observation could do to determine the move- to which of them the succeeding event is te
ments of the heavenly bodies, had been ac- be attributed.




488                  METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE..Now, it appears to us to be pretty evident and accounts for his forgetfulness, by acknow
that the phenomena of the Human Mind are ledging that he had paid no attention. A
almost all of the latter description. We feel. groom, who never heard of the association of
and perceive, and. remember, without any ideas feeds the young war-horse to the sound
purpcse or contrivance of ours, and have evi- of a drum; and the unphilosophical artists
dently no power over the mechanism by which who tame elephants and train dancing dogs
those functions are performed. We may ob- proceed upon the same obvious and admitted
serve and distinguish those operations of principle. The truth is, that as we only know
mind, indeed, with more or less attention or the existence of mind by the exercise of its
exactness; but we cannot subject them to functions according to certain laws, it is imexperiment, or alter their nature by any pro- possible that any one should ever discover or
cess of investigation. We cannot decompose bring to light any functions or any laws of
our perceptions in a crucible, nor divide our which men would admit the existence, unless
sensations with a prism; nor can we, by art they were previously convinced of their operand contrivance, produce any combination of ation on themselves. A philosopher may be
thoughts or emotions, besides those with which the first to state these laws, and to describe
all men have been provided by nature, No their operation distinctly in words; but men
metaphysician expects by analysis to discover must be already familiarly acquainted with
a new power, or to excite a new sensation in them in reality. before they can assent to the
the mind, as a chemist discovers a new earth justice of his descriptions.
or a new metal; nor can he hope, by any   For these reasons. we cannot help thinking
process of synthesis, to exhibit a mental com- that the labours of the metaphysician, instead
bination different from any that nature has of being assimilated to those of the chemist
produced in the minds of other persons. The or experimental philosopher, might, with less
science of metaphysics, therefore, depends impropriety, be compared to those of the gramupon observation, and not upon experiment: marian who arranges into technical order the
And all reasonings upon mind proceed ac- words of a language which is spoken familcordingly upon a reference to that general iarly by all his readers; or of the artist who exobservation which all men are supposed to hibits to them a correct map of a district with
have made, and not to any particular experi- every part of which they were previously
ments, which are known only to the inventor. acquainted. We acquire a perfect knowledge
-The province of philosophy in this depart- of our own minds without study or exertion,
ment, therefore, is the province of observation just as we acquire a perfect knowledge of our
only; and in this department the greater part native language or our native parish; yet we
of that code of laws which Bacon has pro- cannot, without much study and reflection
vided for the regulation of experimental in- compose a grammar of the one, or a map o0
duction is plainly without authority. In meta- the other. To arrange in correct order all the
physics, certainly, knowledge is not power; particulars of our practical knowledge, and to
and instead of producing new phenomena to set down, without omission and without diselucidate the old, by well-contrived and well- tortion, every thing that we actually know
conducted experiments, the most diligent in- upon a subject, requires a power of abstracquirer can do no more than registerand arrange tion recollection, and disposition that falls to
the appearances, which he can neitheraccount the lot of but few. In the science of mind,
for nor control.                         perhaps, more of those qualities are required
But though our power can in no case be than in any other; but it is not the less true
directly increased by the most vigilant and of this, than of all the rest, that the materials
correct observation alone, our knowledge may of the description must always be derived
often be very greatly extended by it. In the from a previous acquaintance with the subscience of mind, however, we are inclined to ject-that nothing can be set down technically
suspect that this is not the case. From the that was not practically known-and that nc
very nature of the subject, it seems necessa- substantial addition is made to our knowledge
rily to follow, that all men must be practically by a scientific distribution of its particulars.
familiar with all the functions and qualities After such a systematic arrangement has been
of their minds; and with almost all the laws introduced, and a correct nomenclature ap.
by which they appear to be governed. Every plied, we may indeed conceive more clearly,
one knows exactly what it is to perceive and and will certainly describe more justly, the
to feel, to remember, imagine, and believe; nature and extent of our information; but our
and though he may not always apply the information itself is not really increased, and
words that denote these operations with per- the consciousness by which we are supplied*
feet propriety, it is not possible to suppose that with all the materials of our reflections, does
any one is ignorant of the things. Even those not become more productive, by this dispolaws of thought, or connections. of mental sition of its contributions.
operation, that are not so commonly stated in   But though we have been induced in this
words, appear to be universally known; and way to express our scepticism, both as to the
are found to regulate the practice of those probable improvement and practical utility
who never thought of enouncing them in pre- of metaphysical speculations we would by
elise or abstract propositions.  A man who no means be understood as having asserted
never heard it asserted that memory depends that these studies are absolutely without
upon attention, yet attends with uncommon interest or importance. With regard to Pereare iG any thing that he wishes to remember; ception, indeed, and some of the other primary




STEWART'S LIFE OF REID.                                   480
functions of mind, it seems now to be admit- stated the perceptible inprovement that has
ted that philosophy can be of no use to us; lately taken place in the method of considerand that the profoundest reasonings lead us ing those intellectual phenomena, he conback to the creed, and the ignorance, of the  cludes with the following judicious and elovulgar.  As to the laws of Association, how- quent observations: —
every the case is somewhat different. Ineer the case is somewhat different   I-   "The authors who form the most conspicuous
stances of the application of such laws are exceptions to this gradual progress, consist chiefly
indeed familiar to every one, and there are  of men, whose errors may be easily accounted for,
few who do not of themselves arrive at some  by the prejudices connected with their circumscribed.
imperfect conception of their general limits habits of observation and inquiry;-of Physioloand application: But that they are sooner gists, accustomed to attend to that part alone of the
learned, and may be more steadily and ex- humar frame, which the knife of the Anatomist
learned, and may be more steadily and ex can lay open; or of Chemists, who enter on the
tensively applied, when our observations are  analysis of Thought, fresh from the decompositions
assisted by the lessons of a judicious instruc- of the laboratory; carrying into the Theory of Mind
tor, seems scarcely to admit of doubt; and  itself(what Bacon expressly calls)'the smoke and
though there are no errors of opinion perhaps tarnish of the furnace.' Of the value of such purthat may not be corrected  without the help  suits, none can think more highly than myself; but
I must be allowed to observe, that the most dis.
of metaphysical principles, it cannot be dis- tintuished pre-eminence in them does not neces
puted, that an habitual acquaintance with  sarily imply a capacity of collected and abstracted
those principles leads us more directly to the  reflection; or an understanding superior to the presource of such errors, and enables us more judices of early association, and the illusions of
readily to explain and correct some of the  popular language. I will not go so far as Cicero,
most formidable aberrations of the human  when he ascribes to those who possess these adunderstanding.  After all, perhaps, the chief vantages, a more than ordinary vigour of intellect:
1understanding.  After all perhaps the chief gni est ingenii revocare mentem a sensibus, et
value of such speculations will be found to cogitationem  a consueludine abducere.'  I would
consist in the wholesome  exercise which  only claim for them, the merit of patient and cauthey afford to the faculties, and the delight tious research; and would exact from their anwhich is produced by the consciousness of tagonists the same qualifications."-pp. 110, 111.
intellectual exertion.  Upon this subject, we    The second great objection that has been
gladly borrow from Mr. Stewart the following made to the doctrines of Dr. Reid, is, that
admirable quotations:-                       they tend to damp the ardour of philosophical
" An author well qualified to judge, from his curiosity, by stating as ultimate facts many
own experience, of whatever conduces to invigo- phenomena which might be resolved into
rate or to embellish the understanding, has beauti- simpler principles; and perplex the science
fully remarked, that,'by turning the soul inward of mind with an unnecessary multitude of
on itself, its forces are concentrated, and are fitted
for stronger and bolder flights of science; and that, internal and unaccountable properties.  As
in such pursuits. whether we take, or whether we to the first of these objections, we agree enlose the game, the Chase is certainly of service,' tirely with Mr. Stewart.  It is certainly betIn this respect, the philosophy of the nind (abstract- ter to damp the ardour of philosophers, by
ing entirely from that pre-eminence which belongs exposing their errors and convincing them of
to it in consequence of its practical applications) their ignorance, than to gratify it by submay claim a distinguished rank among those pre-          thIt is one step toparatory disciplines, which another writer of equal scribing to their blunders. It is one step totalents has happily compared to' the crops which  wards a true explanation of any phenomenon,
are raised, not for the sake of the harvest, but to to expose the fallacy of an erroneons one;
be ploughed in as a dressing to the land.' "  and though the contemplation of such errors
pp. 166, 167.   may render us more diffident of our own sucIn following out his observations on the cess, it will probably teach us some lessons
scope and spirit of Dr. Reid's philosophy; Mr. that are far from diminishing our chance of
Stewart does not present his readers with any  obtaining it.  But to the charge of multiplygeneral outline or summary of the peculiar ing unnecessarily the original and instinctive
doctrines by which it is principally distin- principles of our nature, Mr. Stewart, we
guished.  This part of the book indeed ap- think, has not made by any means so satis
pears to be addressed almost exclusively to factory an answer.  The greater part of what
those who are in some degree initiated in the he says indeed upon this subject, is rather an
studies of which it treats, and consists of a apology for Dr. Reid, than a complete justifi
vindication of Dr. Reid's philosophy from the  cation of him.  In his classification of. thet
most important objections that had been made  active powers, he admits that Dr. Reid has
to it by his antagonists.  The first is proposed  multiplied, without necessity, the number of
1:r the materialist, and is directed against the our original affections; and that, in the other
gratuitous assumption of the existence of parts of his doctrine, he has manifested a
mind.  To this Mr. Stewart answers with  leaning to the same extreme.  It would have
irresistible force, that the philosophy of Dr. been better if he had rested the defence of
Reid has in reality no concern with the theo- his author upon those concessions; and upon
ries that may be formed as to the causes of the general reasoning with which they are
our mental operations. but is entirely confined very skilfully associated, to prove the supeto the investigation of those phenomena which  rior safety and prudence of a tardiness to
are known to us by internal consciousness, generalise and assimilate: For, with all our
and not by external perception.  On the deference for the talents of the author, we
theory of Materialism itself, he makes some find it impossible to agree with him in those
admirable observations: and, after having particular instances in which he has endeav.




490                   METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
oured to expose the injustice of the accusa- objection to Dr. Reid's philosophy, the alleged
tion. After all that Mr. Stewart has said, we tendency of his doctrines on the subject of
can still see no reason for admitting a prin- common sense, to sanction an appeal from the
ciple of credulity, or a principle of veracity, decisions of the learned to the voice of the
in human nature; nor can we discover any multitude. Mr. Stewart, with great candour,
sort of evidence for the existence of an in- admits that the phrase was unluckily chosen;
stinctive power of interpreting natural signs. and that it has not always been employed with
Dr. Reid's only reason for maintaining that perfect accuracy, either by Dr. Reid or his
the belief we commonly give to the testimo- followers: But he maintains, that the greater
ny of others is not derived from reasoning part of the truths which Dr. Reid has referred
and experience, is, that this credulity is more to this authority; are in reality originally and
apparent and excessive in children, than in unaccountably impressed on the human unthose whose experience and reason is mature. derstanding, and are necessarily implied in
Now, to this it seems obvious to answer, that the greater part of its operations. These, he
the experience of children, though not exten- says, m}y be better denominated, " Fundasive, is almost always entirely uniform in fa- mental laws of belief;" and he exemplifies
vour Qf the veracity of those about them. them by such propositions as the following:
There can scarcely be any temptation to utter  lI am  the same person to-day that I was
serious falsehood to an infant; and even if yesterday.-The material world has a real
that should happen, they have seldom such a existence.-The future course of nature will
degree of memory or attention as would be resemble the past."  We shall have occasion
necessary for its detection. In all cases, be- immediately to offer a few observations on
sides, it is admitted that children learn the some of those propositions.
general rule, before they begin to attend to   With these observations Mr. Stewart conthe exceptions; and it will not be denied that cludes his defence of Dr. Reid's philosophy:
the general rule is, that there is a connection but we cannot help thinking that there was
between the assertions of mankind and the room for a farther vindication, and that some
realities of which they are speaking. False- objections may be stated to the system  in
hood is like those irregularities in the con- question, as formidable as any of those which
struction of a language, which children always Mr. Stewart has endeavoured to obviate. We
overlook for the sake of the general analogy. shall allude very shortly to those that appear
The principle of veracity is in the same the most obvious and important. Dr. Reid's
situation. Men speak and assert, in order to great achievement was undoubtedly the subaccomplish some purpose: But if they did not version of the Ideal system, or the confutation
generally speak truth, their assertions would of that hypothesis which represents the imanswer no purpose at all-not even that of mediate objects of the mind in perception, as
deception. To speak falsehood, too. even if certain images or pictures of external objects
we could suppose it to be done without a conveyed by the senses to the sensorium.
motive, requires a certain exercise of imagi- This part of his task, it is now generally adnation and of the inventive faculties: which is mitted that he has performed with exemplary
not without labour: While truth is suggested diligence and complete success: But we are
spontaneously-not by the principle of veraci- by no means so entirely satisfied with the
ty, but by our consciousness and memory. uses he has attempted to make of his victory.
Even if we were not rational creatures, there- After considering the subject with some attenfore, but spoke merely as a consequence of tion, we must confess that we have not been,ur sensations, we would speak truth much able to perceive how the destruction of the
oftener than falsehood; but being rational, and Ideal theory can be held as a demonstration
addressing ourselves to other beings with a of the real existence of matter, or a confutaview of influencing their conduct or opinions, tion of the most ingenious reasonings which
it follows, as a matter of necessity, that we have brought into question the popular faith
must almost always speak truth: Even the upon this subject. The theory of images and
principle of credulity would not otherwise be pictures, in fact, was in its original state more
sufficient to render it worth while for us to closely connected with the supposition of a
speak at all.                             real material prototype, than the theory of
With regard to the principle by which we direct perception; and the sceptical doubts
are enabled to interpret the natural signs of that have since been suggested, appear to us
the passions, and of other connected events, to be by no means exclusively applicable to
we cannot help entertaining a similar scepti- the former hypothesis. He who believes that
cism. There is no evidence, we think, for the certain forms or images are actually transmttexistence of such a principle; and all the ted through the organs of sense to the mind,
phenomena may be solved with the help of must believe, at least, in the reality of the
memory and the association of ideas. The organs and the images, and probably in their
"inductive principle" is very nearly in the origin from real external existences. He who
same predicament; though the full discussion is contented with stating that he is conscious
of the argument that might be maintained of certain sensations and perceptions, by no
upon that subject would occupy more room  means assumes the independent existence ot
than we can now spare.                    matter, and gives a safer account of the pneAfter some very excellent observations on nomena than the idealist.
the nature and the functions of instinct, Mr.   Dr. Reid's sole argument for the real existStewart proceeds to consider, as the last great ence of a material world, is founded on the




STEWART'S LIFE OF REID.                                49i
irresistible belzef of it that is implied in Per- bodily organs at all."  But it is surely alto.
ception and Memory; a belief, the founda- gether as reasonable to say, that we might
tions of which, he seems to think, it would have had all those perceptions, without the
be something more than absurd to call in aid or intervention of any material existence
question. Now the reality of this general at all. Those perceptions, too, might still have
persuasion or belief, no one ever attempted to been accompanied with a belief that would
deny. The question is only about its justness not have been less universal or irresistible fol
or truth. It is conceivable, certainly, in every being utterly without a foundation in reality.
case, that our belief should be erroneous; In short, our perceptions can never afford any
and there can be nothing absurd in suggesting complete or irrefragable proof of the real ex.
reasons for doubting of its conformity with istence of external things; because it is easy
truth. The obstinacy of our belief, in this to conceive that we might have such percep
instance, and its constant recurrence, even tions without them. We do not know, there*
after all our endeavours to familiarise our- fore, with certainty, that our perceptions are
selves with the objections that have been ever produced by external objects; and in the
made to it. are not absolutely without parallel cases to which we have just alluded, we acin the history of the human faculties. All tually find perception and its concomitant be
children believe that the earth is at rest; and lief, where we do know with certainty that it
that the sun and fixed stars perform a diurnal is not produced by any external existence.
revolution round it. They also believe that   It has been said, however, that we have the
the place which they occupy on the surface same evidence for the existence of the mateis absolutely the uppermost, and that the in- rial world, as for that of our own thoughts or
habitants of the opposite surface must be conceptions — as we have no reason for be
suspended in an inverted position. Now of lieving in the latter, but that we cannot help
this universal, practical, and irresistible belief, it; which is equally true of the former. Now,
all persons of education are easily disabused this appears to us to be very inaccurately arin speculation, though it influences their ordi- gued. Whatever we doubt; and whatever we
nary language, and continues, in fact, to be prove, we must plainly begin with consciousness.
the habitual impression of their minds. In That alone is certain-all the rest is inference.
the same way, a Berkleian might admit the Does Dr. Reid mean to assert, that our perconstant recurrence of the illusions of sense, ception of external objects is not a necessary
although his speculative reason were suffi- preliminary to any proof of their reality, or
ciently convinced of their fallacy.         that our belief in their reality is not founded
The phenomena of Dreaming and of De- upon our consciousness of perceiving them? It
lirium, however, appear to afford a sort of is only our perceptions, then, and not the exexperimentum  crucis, to demonstrate that a istence of their objects, whichwe cannot help
real external existence is not necessary to believing; and it would be nearly as reasonproduce sensation and perception in the hu- able to say that we must take all our dreams
man mind. Is it utterly absurd and ridiculous for realities, because we cannot doubt that we
to maintain, that all the objects of our thoughts dream, as it is to assert that we have the same
maybe "such stuff as dreams are made of " evidence for the existence of an external
or that the uniformity of Nature gives us some world, as for the existence of the sensations
reason to presume that the perceptions of ma- by which it is suggested to our minds.
niacs and of rational men are manufactured,   We dare not now venture farther into this
like their organs, out of the same materials? subject; yet we cannot abandon it without obThere is a species of insanity known among serving, that the question is entirely a matter
medical men by the epithet?otional, in which, of philosophical and abstract speculation, and
as well as in delirium  tremens, there is fre- that by far the most reprehernsible passages
quently no general depravation of the reason- in Dr. Reid's writings, are those in which he
ing and judging faculties, but where the has represented it as otherwise. When we
disease consists entirely in the patient mis- consider, indeed, the exemplary candour, and
taking the objects of his thought or imagina- temper, and modesty, with which this exceltion for real and present existences.  The lent man has conducted the whole of his
error of his perceptions, in such cases, is only speculations, we cannot help wondering that
detected by comparing them with the per- he should ever have forgotten himself so far
ceptions of other people; and it is evident as to descend to the vulgar raillery which he
that he has just the same reason to impute has addressed, instead of argument, to the
error to them, as they can have individually abettors of the Berkleian hypothesis. The
fbr imputing it to him. The majority, indeed, old joke, of the sceptical philosophers running
necessarily carries the point, as to all practi- their noses against posts, tumbling into kencal consequences: But is there any absurdity nels, and being sent to madhouses, is repeated
in alleging that we can have no absolute or at least ten times in different parts of Dr.
infallible assurance of that as to which the Reid's publications, and really seems to have
internal conviction of an individual must be been considered-as an objection not less forcisupported, and may be overruled by the testi- ble than facetious. Yet Dr. Reid surely could
mony of his fellow-creatures?              not be ignorant that those who have questioned
Dr. Reid has himself admitted that " we the reality of a material universe, never afmight probably have been so made, as to have fected to have perceptions, ideas, and sensaall the perceptions and sensations which we tions, of a different nature from other people,
now have, without any impression on our The debate was merely about the origin of




492                   METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
these sensations; and could not possibly affect and necessity. In the former, we cannot help
the condluct or feelings of the individual. The thinking that he has dogmatised, with a de.
sceptic, therefore, who has been taught by gree of confidence which is scarcely justified
experience that certain perceptions are con- by the cogency of his arguments; and has
nected with unpleasant sensations, will avoid endeavoured to draw ridicule on the reasoning
the occasions of them as carefully as those of his antagonists, by illustrations that are utwho look upon the object of their perceptions terly inapplicable.  In the latter, also, he has
as external realities. Notions and sensations made something more than a just use of the
he cannot deny to exist; and this limited prejudices of men and the ambiguity of lanfaith will regulate his conduct exactly in the guage; and has more than once been guilty,
same manner as the more extensive creed of if we be not mistaken, of what, in a less
his antagonists. We are persuaded that Mr. respectable author, we should not have scruStewart would reject the aid of such an argu- pled to call the most palpable sophistry. We
ment for he existence of an external world.  are glad that our duty does not require us to
The length to which these observations enter into the discussion of this very perhave ex, nded, deters us from  prosecuting plexing controversy; though we may be per.
any fartlher our remarks on Dr. Reid's philoso- mitted to remark, that it is somewhat extraphy. The other points in which it appears to ordinary. to find the dependence of human
us that he has left his system vulnerable are, actions on Motives so positively denied by
his explanation of our idea of cause and effect, those very philosophers with whom  the docJnd his speculations on the question of liberty trine of Causation is of such high authority.
(Q    ctober,  1SO.)
Memoirs of Dr. Joseph Priestley, to the year 1795, written by himself: With a Continuation to
the time of his decease, by his Son Joseph Priestley; and Observations on his Writings. By
THOMAS COOPER, President Judge of the Fourth District of Pennsylvania; and the Reverend
WILLIAM CHRISTIE. 8vo. pp. 481. London: 1805.
DR. PRIESTLEY has written more, we be-   In the Second part of his book, Mr. Cooper
lieve, and on a greater variety of subjects, professes to estimate the Metaphysical writhan any other English author; and probably tings of Dr. Priestley, and delivers a long and
believed, as his friend Mr. Cooper appears to very zealous defence of the doctrines of Mado at this moment, that his several publica- terialism, and of the Necessity of human actions were destined to make an tera in the tions. A good deal of learning and a good
respective branches of speculation to which deal of talent are shown in this production:
they bore reference.  We are not exactly of But we believe that most of our readers will
that opinion: But we think Dr. Priestley a be surprised to find that Mr. Cooper conperson of no common magnitude in the his- siders both these questions as having been
tory of English literature; and have perused finally set at rest by the disquisitions of his
this miscellaneous volume with more interest learned friend!
than we have usually found in publications   "Indeed," he observes, " those questions must
of the same description. The memoirs are now be considered as settled; for those who can
written with great conciseness and simplicity, resist Collins' philosophical inquiry, the section of
and present a very singular picture of that in- Dr. Hartley on the mechanism of the mind, and
defatigable activity, that bigotted vanity, that the review of the subject taken by Dr. Priestley
precipitation, cheerfulness,                and his opponents, are not to be reasoned with.
which made up the character of this restless Interest reipubliccs ut desiique sit finis litiutn, is a
which made up the character.of this restless,maxim of technical law. It will apply equally to
philosopher. The observations annexed by the republic of' letters; and the time seems to have
Mr. Cooper are the work, we think, of a pow- arrived, when the separate existence of the human
erful, presumptuous, and most untractable Soul, the freedom of the Will, and the eternal
understanding.  They are written in a defy- duration of Future punishment, like the doctrines
ing, dogmatical, unaccommodating style: with of the Trinity! and T'ransubstantiation, may be
much force of reasoning, in many places, but regaion.rded as no longer entitled to public discusoften with great rashness and arrogance, and                         si
occasionally with a cant of philosophism, and    The advocates of Necessity, we know, have
a tang of party politics, which communicate       been pretty much of this opinion; and
an air of vulgarity to the whole work. and ir- we have no inclination to disturb them  at
resistibly excite a smile at the expense of this present with any renewal of the controversy:
magnanimous despiser of all sorts of prejudice But we really did not know that the advo.
and bigotry.*                               cates of Materialism  laid claim to the same
triumph; and certainly find some difficulty in
* I omit now a very considerable portion of this admitting that all who believe in the existence
review, containing a pretty full account of Dr. of mind are unfit to be reasoned with. To us
Priestley's life and conversation, and of his various indeed it has always appeared that it was
publications on subjects of theology, natural philosophy, and chemistry; retaining only the following much easier to prove the existence of mind,
examination of his doctrine of Materialism.  than the existence of matter; and with what.




PRIESTLEY'S MEMOIRS.                                 493
ever contempt Mr. Cooper and his friends may tain the existence of our perceptions, and to
regard us, we must be perniitted to say a word deny that of matter altogether. The other
or two in defence of the vulgar opinion.    qualities'of matter are perceived by us; but
The sum of the argument against the exist- perception cannot be perceived: And all we
ence of mind, in case any of our readers know about it is, that it is that by which we
should be ignorant of it, is shortly as follows.  perceive every thing else. It certainly does
The phenomena of thinking, or perception, sound somewhat absurd and unintelligible,
are always found connected with a certain  therefore, to say, that perception is that
mass of organised matter, and have never quality of matter by which it becomes con
been known to exist in a separate or detached  scious of its own existence, and acquainted
state. It seems natural, therefore, to consider with its other qualities: Since it is plain that
them as qualities of that substance: Nor is it this is not a quality, but a knowledge of qualiany objection to say, that the quality of think- ties; and that the percipient must necessarily
ing has no sort of resemblance or affinity to be distinct from that which is perceived. We
any of the other qualities with which we must always begin, with perception; and the
knowi matter to be endowed. This is equally followers of Berkeley will tell us, that we
true of all the primary qualities of matter, must end there also. At all events, it certainly
when compared with each other. Solidity, never entered into the head of any plain man
for instance, bears no sort of resemblance or to conceive that the faculty of perception was
affinity to extension; nor is there any other itself one of the qualities with which that
reason for our considering them as qualities faculty made him acquainted: or that it could
of the same substance, but that they are al- possibly belong to a substance, which his
ways found in conjunction-that they occupy earliest intimations and most indestructible
the same portion of space, and present them- impressions taught him  to regard as someselves together, on all occasions, to our obse;r- thing external and separate.*
vation. Now, this may be said, with equal   This, then, is the first objection to the docforce, of the quality of thinking. It is al- trine of Materialism, —that it makes the
ways found in conjunction with a certain mass faculty of perception a quality of the thing
of solid' and extended matter —it inhabits the perceived; and converts, in a way that must
same portion of space, and presents itself in- at first sight appear absurd to all mankind,
variably along with those other qualities the our knowledge of the qualities of matter into
assemblage of which makes up our idea of another quality of the same substance.  The
organised matter. Whatever substratum can truth is, however, that it is a gross and unsupport and unite the qualities of solidity and warrantable abuse of language, to call percepextension) may therefore support the quality  tion a quality at all. It is an act or an eventof thinking also; and it is eminently unphilo- a fact or a phenomenon-of which the percipisophical to suppose, that it inheres in a sepa- ent is conscious: but it cannot be intelligibly
rate substance to which we should give the conceived as a quality; and, least of all, as a
appellation of Mind. All the phenomena of quality of that substance which is known to
thought, it is said, may be resolved by the us as solid and extended. 1st, All the qualities
assistance of Dr. Hartley, into perception and of matter, it has been already stated, are perassociation.  Now, perception is evidently ceived by the senses: but the sensation itself
produced  by certain mechanical impulses cannot be so perceived; nor is it possible to call
upon the nerves, transmitted to the brain, it an object'of sense, without the grossest perand can therefore be directly proved to be version of language.  2dly, All the qualities
merely a peculiar species of motion; and as- of matter have a direct reference to Space or
sociation is something very like the vibration extension; and are conceived in some meaof musical cords in juxtaposition, and is strictly sure, as attributes or qualities of the space
within the analogy of material movement.    within which they exist. When we say that
In answering this argument, we will fairly a particular body is solid, we mean merely
confess that we have no distinct idea of Sub- that a certain portion of space is impenetrastance; and that we are perfectly aware ble: when we say that it is coloured, we
that it is impossible to combine three propositions upon the subject, without involving a   * We are not very partial to the practice ofquocontradiction. All that we know of substance, ting poetry in illustration of metaphysics; but the
are its qualities; yet qualities must belong to following lines seem to express so forcibly the unisomethisq itieg- and  of that somethibong to which versal and natural impression of mankind on this
something —and of that something to which subject, that we cannot help offering them to the
they belong, and by which they are united, consideration of the reader.
we neither know anything nor can form any  "I Am I but what I seem, mere flesh and blood?
conception. We cannot help believing that it A branching channel, and a mazy flood?
exists; but we have no distinct notion as to The purple stream, that through my vessels glideg,
the mode of its existence.                  Dull and unconscious flows like common tides.
Admitting this, therefore, in the first place, The pipes, through which the circling juices stray,
Admitting this therefore i n the first plaeAre not that thinking I, no more than they.
we may perhaps be permitted to observe, that This frame, compacted with transcendent skill,
it seems a little disorderly and unphilosophi- Of moving joints, obedient to my will,
cal, to class perception among the qualities Nurs'd from the fruitful glebe like yonder tree,
of matter, when it is obvious, that it is by Waxes and wastes: I call it MINE, not ME.
means of perception alone that we get any  New matter still the mould'ring mass sustains;
means of perception alone that we get any  The mansion chang'd, the tenant still remains,
notion of matter or its qualities; and that it And, from  the fleeting stream repair'd by food,rema
is possible, with perfect consistency, to main- Distinct, as is the swimmer from the flood."
2R




494                   METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
mean that the same portion of space appears are not qualities of mrratter (for results and
of one hue,-and so of the other qualities: qualities belong not to the same category), but
but sensation or thought is never conceived mere facts or phenomena of a totally different
so to occupy space, or to characterise it; nor description, for the production of which the
can those faculties be at all conceived as apparatus of some such organisation may, for
beirg merely definite portions of space, en- the time, be necessary.
dued with perceptible properties. In the third    But the material thing is, that it is not to
place, all the primary qualities of matter are the whole mass of our bodies, or their living
inseparable from it, and enter necessarily into organisation in general, that these phenomena
its conception and definition.  All matter are said by Dr. Priestley and his disciples to
must necessarily be conceived as extended, belong, as proper qualities. On the contrary,
solid, and figured: and also as universally they distinctly admit that they are not qualities
capable of all the secondary qualities. It is of that physical mass generally, nor even of
obvious, however, that thought or sensation those finer parts of it which constitute our
is not an inseparable attribute of matter; as organs of sense. They admit that the eye
by far the greater part of matter is entirely and the ear act the parts merely of optical or
destitute of it; and it is found in connection acoustic instruments; and are only useful in
only with those parts which we term organ- transmitting impulses (or, it may be, fine subised; and with those, only while they are stances) to the nervous part of the brain: of
in a certain state, which we call alive. If which alone, therefore, and indeed only of its
it be said, however, that thought may re- minute and invisible portions, these singular
semble those accidental qualities of matter, phenomena a;re alleged to be proper physical
such as heat or colour, which are not insepa- qualities! It is difficult, we think, to make
rable or permanent; then we reply, that the absurdity of such a doctrine more appaneither of these things can, in strictness, be rent than by this plain statement of its import
termed qualities of matter, more than thought and amount. The only ground, it must always
or sensation: They are themselves substan- be recollected, for holding that mind and all
ces, or matter possessed of inseparable and its phenomena are mere qualities of matter, is
peculiar qualities, as well as those which the broad and popular one. that we always
address themselves to the other senses. Light find them  connected with a certain visible
is a material substance, from  which the mass of organised matter, called a living body:
quality of colour is inseparable; and heat is But when it is admitted that they are not
a material substance, which has universally qualities of this mass generally, or even of
the quality of exciting the sensation  of any part of it which is visible or perceptible
warmth: and both address themselves to, by our senses, the allegation of their being
and are distinctly perceived through, our mere material qualities of a part of the brain,
senses. If thought be allowed to be a sub- must appear not merely gratuitous, but inconstance in this sense. it will remain to show  sistent and absolutely absurd.  If the eye
that it also is material; by being referable to and the ear, with their delicate structures
space, capable of subsisting in every sort of and fine sensibility, are but vehicles and apbody, of being perceived by the senses of paratus, why should the attenuated and unbeing transferred from one body to another, known  issues of the cerebral nerves be supand liable to attraction, repulsion, condensa- posed to be any thing else? or why should
tion, or reflection-like heat or light.    the re  Iting sensations, to which both are
It is to be remarked also. that wherever apparently ministrant, and no more than minany proper quality, primary or secondary, can is  nt, and which have no conceivable rebe ascribed generally to any perceptible bo   semblance or analogy to any attribute of mator mass of matter, that quality must    and  ter, but put on the list of the physical qualities
be recognised in every part of it.  the whole of the latter-which is of itself too slight and
of any such body is hard, or coloured, or subtle to enable us to say what are its comweighty, or hot, or cold, every part of it) mon physical qualities?  But we have yet
whether merely considered and examined as another consideration to suggest, before finalseparable, or actually separated and detached, ly closing this discussion.
must be hard. coloured, and weighty also:   It probably has not escaped observation,
these qualities being truly conditions, and, in that throughout the preceding argument, we
fact, the only real proofs of the material ex- have allowed the advocates for Materialism
istence of such a body, and of all the parts of to assume that what (to oblige them) we have
it. But though thought or volition may be called thought or perception generally, was
said to have their residence somewhere with- one uniform and identical thing; to which,
in a human body, they certainly are not quali- therefore, the appellation of a quality might
ties of its material mass, in this sense; or to possibly be given, without manifest and palthe effect of being sensibly present in every pable absurdity. But in reality there is nt
part or portion of it! We never, at least, ground, or even room, for claiming such an
have happened to hear it surmised that there allowance. The acts or functions which we
is thought in the elbow-joint, or volition in ascribe to mind, are at all events not one, but
the nail of the great toe: and if it be said many and diverse. Perception no doubt is
that these phenomena are results only of the one of them-but it is not identical with sen.
hving organisation as a whole, it seems to us sation j and still less with memory or imagithat this is a substantial abandonment of the nation, or volition, —or with love, anger, fear,
whole argument, and an admission that they deliberation, or hatred. Each of these3 on the




PRIESTLEY'S MEMOIRS.                               492
contrary, is a separate and distinguishable sons: For, so long as they stuck to the gene.
act, function, or phenomenon, of the existence ral assertion, that thought nlight, in some way
of which we become aware, not through per- or other, be represented as a quality of matception,. or the external senses at all, but ter, —although it was not perceived by the
through consciousness or reflection alone: and senses, and bore no analogy to any of its other
nqne of them (with the single exception, per- qualities,-and talked about the inherent cahaps, of perception) have any necessary or pacity of substance, to support all sorts of
natural reference to any external or material qualities; although their doctrine might elude
existence whatever. It is not disputed, how- our comprehension, and revolt all our habits
ever, that it is only by perception and the of thinking,-still it might be difficult to
senses, that we can gain any knowledge of demonstrate its fallacy; and a certain permatter; and, consequently, whatever we come plexing argumentation might be maintained,
to know by consciousness only, cannot pos- by a person well acquainted with the use,
sibly belong to that category, or be either ma- and abuse, of words: But when they cast
terial or external. But we are not aware that away the protection of this most convenient
any materialist has ever gone the length of obscurity, and, instead of saying that they
directly maintaining that volition for example, do not know what thought is, have the couror memory, or. anger, or fear, or any other age to refer it to the known category of Mosuch affection, were proper material qualities tion; they evidently subject their theory to the
of our bodily frames, or could be perceived test of rational examination, and furnish us
and recognised as such, by the agency of with a criterion by which its truth may be
the external senses; in the same way as the easily determined.
weight, heat, colour, or elasticity which may   We shall not be so rash as to attempt any
belong to these frames. But if they are not definition of motion; but we believe we may
each of them capable of being so perceived, take it for granted, that our readers know
as separate physical qualities, it is plain that pretty well what it is. At all events, it is not
nothing can be gained in argument, by affect- a quality of matter. It is an act, a phenomeing to disregard their palpable diversity, and non, or a fact:-but it makes no part of the
seeking to class them  all under one vague description or conception of matter; though
name, of thought or perception. Even with it can only exist with reference to that subthat advantage, we have seen that the doc- stance. Let any man ask himself, however,
trine, of perception or thought being a mere whether the motion of matter bears any sort
quality of matter, is not only untenable, but of resemblance to thought or sensation; or
truly self-contradictory and unintelligible. whether it be even conceivable that these
But when the number and diversity of the should be one and the same thing? —But,;t is
phenomena necessarily covered by that gene- said, we find sensation always produced by
ral appellation is considered, along with the motion; and as we can discover nothing else
fact that most of them have no reference to in conjunction with it, we are justified in asmatter, and do in no way imply its existence; cribing it to motion. But this, we beg leave
the absurdity of representing them  as so to say, is not the question. It is not necesmany of its distinct perceptible qualities, sary to inquire, whether motion may produce
must be too apparent, we think, to admit of sensation or not, but whether sensation be moany serious defence.                      tion, and nothing else? It seems pretty eviThe sum of the whole then is, that all the dent, to be sure, that motion can never proknowledge which we gain only by Perception duce any thing but motion or impulse; and
and the use of our external Senses, is know- that it is at least as inconceivable that it should
ledge of Matter, and its qualities and attri- ever produce sensation in matter, as that it
butes alone; and all which we gain only by should.. produce a separate substance, called
Consciousness and Reflection on our own in- mind. But this, we repeat, is not the quesward feelings, is necessarily knowledge of tion with the materialists. Their proposition
Mind, and its states, attributes, and functions. is, not that motion produces sensation-which
This in fact is the whole basis, and rationale might be as well in the mind as in the body;
of the distinction between mind and matter: but, that sensation is motion; and that all the
and, consequently, unless it can be shown phenomena of thought and perception are inthat love, anger, and sorrow) as well as memo- telligibly accounted for by saying, that they
r) and volition, are direct'objects of sense or are certain little shakings in the pulpy part of
external perception, like heat and colour, or the brain.
figure and solidity, there must be an end, we   There are certain propositions which it is
think, of all question as to their being ma- difficult to confute, only because it is imposterial qualities.                         sible to comprehend them: and this, the subBut, though the very basis and foundation stantive article in the creed of Materialism,
of the argument for Materialism  is placed really seems to be of this description. To say
upon the assumption, that thought and per- that thought is motion, is as unintelligible to
reption are qualities of our bodies, it is re- us, as to say that it is space, or time, or promarkable that Dr. Priestley, and the other portion.
champions of that doctrine, do ultimately give   There may be little shakings in the brain,
up that point altogether and maintain, that for any thing we know, and there may even
thdught is nothing else than Motion! Now, be shakings of a different kind, accompanying
this, we cannot help thinking, was very im- every act of thought or perception;-but, that
politic and injudicious in these learned per- the shakings themselves are the thought o0




496                   METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
perception, we are so far from admitting, that Berkeleians, it seems quite enough to detei
we find it absolutely impossible to compre- mine us to reject it that it confounds the act
hend what is meant by the assertion. The of perception with the qualities perceived, and
shakings are certain throbbings, vibrations, or classes among the objects of perception, tne
stirrings, in a whitish, half-fluid substance faculty by which these objects are introduced
like custard, which we might see perhaps, or to our knowledge —and which faculty must
feel, if we had eyes and fingers sufficiently be exercised, before we can attain to any consmall or fine for the office. But what should ception, either of matter or its qualities.
we see or feel. upon the supposition that we   We do not pretend to have looked~ through
could detect, by our senses, every thing that the whole controversy which Dr. Priestley7s
actually took place in the brain? We should publications on this subject appears to have
see the particles of this substance change their excited: But nothing certainly has struck us
place a little, move a little up or down, to the with more astonishment, than the zeal with
right or to the left, round about, or zig-zag, or which he maintains that this doctrine, and
in some other course or direction. This is that of Necessity, taken' together, afford the
all that we could see, if Hartley's conjecture greatest support to the cause of religion and
were proved by actual observation; because morality! We are a little puzzled, indeed, to
this is all that exists in motion, —according to discover what use, or what room, there can be
our conception of it; and all that we mean, for a God at all, upon this hypothesis of Mawhen we say that there is motion in any sub- terialism; as well as to imagine what species
stance. Is it intelligible, then, to say, that of being the God of the materialist must be.
this motion, the whole of which we see and If the mere organisation of matter produces
comprehend, is thought and feeling?-and reason, memory, imagination, and all the
that thought and feeling will exist wherever other attributes of mind, —and if these differwe can'excite a similar motion in a similar ent phenomena be the necessary result of cersubstance?-In our humble apprehension, the tain motions impressed upon matter; then
proposition is not so much false, as utterly there is no need for any other reason or enunmeaning and incomprehensible. That sen- ergy in the universe: and things may be adsation may follow motion in the brain. or may ministered very comfortably, by the intellect
even be produced by it, is conceivable at spontaneously evolved in the different combileast, and may be affirmed with perfect pre- nations of matter. But if Dr. Priestley will
cision and consistency; but that the motion is have a superfluous Deity notwithstanding, we
itself sensation, and that the proper and com- may ask what sort of a Deity he can expect?
plete definition of thought and feeling is. that He denies the existence of mind or spirit althey are certain vibrations in the brain, is a together; so that his Deity must be material;
doctrine, we think, that can only be wondered and his wisdom, power, and goodness must
at, and that must be comprehended before it be the necessary result of a certain organisabe answered.                              tion. But how can a material deity be imNo advocate for the existence of mind, ever mortal? How could he have been formed?
thought it necessary to deny that there was a Or why should there not be more,-formed
certain bodily apparatus necessary to thought by himself, or by his creator? We will not
and sensation in man —and that, on many oc- affirm that Dr. Priestley has not attempted to
casions, the sensation was preceded or intro- answer these questions; but we will take it
duced by certain impulses and corresponding upon us to say, that he cannot have answered
movements of this material machinery: —we them  in a satisfactory manner. As to his
cannot see without eyes and light, nor think paradoxical doctrines, with regard to the nawithout living bodies. All that they maintain tural mortality of man, and the incompreis, that these impulses and movements are hensible gift of immortality conferred on a
not feelings or thought, but merely the occa- material structure which visibly moulders and
sions of feeling and thoughts; and that it is is dissolved, we shall only say that it exceeds
impossible for them to confound the material in absurdity any of the dogmas of the Cathomotions which precede those sensations, with lies; and can only be exceeded by his own
the sensations themselves, which have no supposition, that our Saviour, being only a
conceivable affinity with matter.         man, and yet destined to live to the day of
The theory of Materialism, then. appears to judgment, is still alive in his original human
us to be altogether unintelligible gnd absurd; body upon earth, and is really the Wandering
and, without recurring to the reasoning of the Jew of vulgar superstition!'(Ottober, 18g5.)
Academical Questions. By the-Right Honourable WILLIAM DRUMMOND, K. C., F. R. S., F. R. S. E
Author of a Translation of Persius. Vol. I. 4to. pp. 412. Cadell and Davies. London: 1805
WE do not know very well what to say of I that it is occupied with Metaphysical specu
this very learned publication. To some read- lations. To others, it may convey a more
ers it will probably be enough to announce, Iprecise idea of its character, to be told, that




DRUMMOND'S ACADEMICAL QUESTIONS.                              497
though it gave  violent headache, in less than cipitately, that secondary qualities are unian hour, to the most intrepid logician of our versally admitted to have no existence but in
fraternity, he could not help reading on till he the mind of him who perceives them, proceeds,
came to the end of the volume.*             with an air of triumph that is at all events
Mr. Drummond begins with the doctrine premature, to demonstrate, that there is nothof Locke; and exposes, we think, very suc- ing in the case of primary qualities by which
cessfully, the futility of that celebrated au- they can be distinguished in this respect from
thor's definition of Substance, as "one knows the secondary.  The fact unquestionably is,
not what " support of such qualities as are ca- that Dr. Reid and his followers assert the posipable of producing simple ideas in us. This tive and independent existence of secordary
notion of substance he then shows to be de- as well as of primary qualities in inmatter; and
rived from the old Platonic doctrine of the that there is, upon their hypothesis, exactly the
primary matter, or v2,l to which the same same evidence for the one as for the other.
objections are applicable.                  The general problem, as to the probable existHaving thus discarded Substance in general ence of matter-unquestionably the most funfrom  the list of existences, Mr. Drummond damental and momentous in the whole science
proceeds to do as much for the particular sub- of metaphysics-may be fairly and intelligibly
stance called lMatter, and all its qualities. In stated in a very few words.
this chapter, accordingly, he avows himself   Bishop Berkeley, and after him Mr. Drumto be a determined Idealist; and it is the scope' mond, have observed, that by our senses, we
of his whole argument to prove, that what-we can have nothing but sensations; and that
call qualities in external substances, are in sensations, being affections of mind. cannot
fact nothing more than sensations in our own possibly bear any resemblance to matter. or
minds; and that what have been termed pri- any of its qualities; and hence they infer, that
mary qualities, are in this respect entirely we cannot possibly have any evidence for the
upon a footing with those which are called existence of matter; and that what we term
secondary. His reasoning upon this subject our perception of its qualities, is in fact nothcoincides very nearly with that of Bishop ing else than a sensation in our own minds.
Berkeley; of whom, indeed, he says, that if Dr. Reid, on the other hand, distinctly admit
his arguments be not really conclusive, it is ting that the primary functions of our senses
certainly to be lamented that they should have is to make us conscious of certain sensations.
been so imperfectly answered.               which can have no sort of resemblance or afTo us, we will confess, it does not seem of finity to the qualities of matter, has asserted
very great consequence to determine whether it as a fact admitting of no dispute, but recogthere be any room for a distinction between nised by every human creature, that these
the primary and secondary qualities of matter; sensations necessarily suggest to us the notion
for though we are rather inclined to hold that of certain external existences, endowed with
Dr. Reid's observations have established its particular definable qualities; and that these
possibility, we cannot help saying, that it is a perceptions, by which our sensations are aqdistinction which does not touch at all upon companied, are easily and clearly distinguishthe fundamental question, as to the evideece able from  the sensations themselves, and
which we have, by our senses, for the exist- cannot be confounded with them, without the
ence of a material world. Dr. Reid and his most wilful perversity. Perception, again. he
followers contend as strenuously for the real holds, necessarily implies the existence of the
existence of those material qualities which object perceived; and the reality of a material
produce in us the sensations of heat, or of world is thus as clearly deduced from  th6
colour, as of those which give us intimations exercise of this faculty, as the reality of our
of solidity, figure, or extension. We know a own existence can be from our consciousness,
little more, indeed, according to them, about or other sensations. It appears, therefore.
the one sort of qualities than the other; but that there are two questions to be considered
the evidence we have for their existence is in determining on the merits of this controexactly the same in both cases; nor is it more versy. First, whether there be any room for
a law of our nature, that the sensation of re- a distinction between sensation and percepsistance should suggest to us the definable tion; and, secondly, if we shall allow such a
quality of solidity in an external object, than distinction, whether perception does necesthat the sensation of heat should suggest to sarily imply the real and external existence
us, that quality in an external object, which of the objects perceived.
we cannot define otherwise than as the external   If by perception, indeed, we understand. as
cause of this sensation.                    Dr. Reid appears to have done, the immediate
Mr. Drummond, we think, has not attended and positive discovery of external existences,
sufficiently to this part of his antagonist's po- it is evident that the mere assumption of this
sition; and after assuming, somewhat too pre- faculty puts an end to the whole question;
since it necessarily takes those existences for
* For the reasons stated in the note prefixed to granted, and, upon that hypothesis, defines
his division of the book, I refrain from reprinting the faculty in question to be that by which
he greater part of this review; and give only that we discover their qualities. This, however
)art of it which is connected with the speculations it is plain, is not reasoning, but assertion; and
a the preceding articles, and bears upon the ques- it is not the mere assertion of a fact which
ion of the existence of an external world, and the i n  th e    assertion of a fact, which
xith to be given to the intimations of our senses, in these subjects is the whole perhaps of our
nd other internal convictions.            legitimate philosophy, but of something which
82




498                   METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
may or may not be inferred from the fact, ac- asmuch as there is a distinction between oni
cording to the views of the inquirer. The feelings of pain, resistance, &c., and our con
inquiry is an inquiry into the functions and ception and belief of real external existenceS:
operations of mind; and all that can possibly But they differ merely as one affection of
be stated as fact on such an occasion, must re- mind may differ from another; and it is plainly
late to the state and affections of mind only: unwarrantable to assume the real existence
But to assume the existence of a material of external objects as a part of the statement
world, in order afterwards to define one func- of a purely intellectual phenomenon. After
tion of mind to be that by which it discovers allowing the reality of this distinction. there
material qualities, is evidently blending hy- is still room  therefore for considering the
pothesis in the statement, and prejudging the second question to which we alluded in the
controversy by assumption. The fact itself, outset, viz. Whether perception does neceswe really conceive not to be liable to any kind sarily imply the existence of external obh..
of doubt or dispute; and yet the statement of jects.
it, obvious as it is, seems calculated to retrench    Upon this subject, we entertain an opinion
a good deal from each of the opposite asser- which will not give satisfaction, we are afraid,
tions. The fact, if we be not greatly mis- to either of the contending parties. We think
taken; is confessedly as follows.           that the existence of external objects is not
We have occasionally certain sensations necessarily implied in the phenomena of perwhich we call heat, pain, resistance, &c. ception; but we think that there is no comThese feelings, of course, belong only to the plete proof of their nonexistence; and that
mind, of which they are peculiar affections; philosophy, instead of being benefited, would
and both parties are agreed in asserting, that be subjected to needless embarrassments, by
they have no resemblance, or necessary refer- the absolute assumption of the ideal theory.
ence; to any thing external.  Dr. Reid has   The reality of external existences is not
made this indeed the very ground-work of his necessarily implied in the phenomena of perreasonings on the subject of perception; and ception: because we can easily imagine that
it will not probably be called in question by our impressions and conceptions might have
his antagonists, who go the length of inferring been exactly as they are, although matter had
from it, that nothing but mind can be con- never been created.  Belief, we familiarly
ceived to have an existence in nature. This, know, to be no infallible criterion of actual
then, is one fact which we may safely assume existence; and it is impossible to doubt, that
as quite certain and indisputable, viz. that we might have been so framed as to receive
our sensations are affections of the mind, and all the impressions which we now ascribe to
have no necessary reference to any other ex- the agency of external objects, from the meistence. But there is another fact at least as chanism of our own minds, or the particular
obvious and indisputable which the one party volition of the Deity. The phenomena of
seems disposed to overlook, and the other to dreaming, and of some species of madness,
invest with undue authority, in the discussion. seem to form experimental proofs of the posThis second fact is, that some of the sensations sibility we have now stated; and demonstrate,
in question are uniformly and irresistibly ac- in our apprehension, that perception, as we
companied by the apprehension and belief of have defined it, (i. e. an apprehension and becertain external existences, distinguished by lief of external existences,) does not necessapeculiar qualities. The fact certainly admits rily imply the independent reality of its obof no dispute; and, accordingly, the philoso- jects. Nor is it less absurd to say that we
phers who first. attempted to prove that this have the same evidence for the existence of
belief was without foundation, have uniformly external objects that we have for the existclaimed the merit of disabusing mankind of a ence of our own sensations: For it is quite
natural anid universal illusion. Now this ap- plain, that our belief in the former is founded
prehension and belief of external existences, altogether on our consciousness of the latter;
is in itself as much an affection of mind, as and that the evidence of this belief is consethe sensations by which it is accompanied: quently of a secondary nature. We cannot
and those who deny the distinction between doubt of the existence of our sensations,
perception and sensation, might be justified without being guilty of the grossest contraperhaps in asserting, that it is only a sensa- diction; but we may doubt of the existence
tion of another kind: at the same time, as the of the material world, without any contradicessence of it consists in the apprehension of tion at all. If we annihilate our sensation;s
an independent existence, there can be no we annihilate ourselves; and, of course, leave
harm in distinguishing it, by a separate appel- no being to doubt or to reason. If we annilation, from those sensations which centre in hilate the external world, we still leave entire
the sentient being, and suggest to him no idea all those sensations and perceptions which a
of any other existence. It is in this sense different hypothesis would refer to its myste
alone, it appears to us, that perception can be rious agency on ouir minds.
understood in strict philosophical language.   On the other hand, it is certainly going tot
It means no more than that affection of the far to assert, that the nonexistence of matte
mind which consists in an apprehension and is proved by such evidence as necessarily t,
belief in the existence of external objects.    command our assent: Since it evidently im
Now in this sense of the word, there can plies no contradiction to suppose, that such
be no doubt that there is a real distinction thing as matter may exist, and that an omnir
between mere sensation and perception; in- otent being might make us capable of die




DRUMMOND'S ACADEMICAL QUESTIONS.                             g99
covering its qualities.  The instinctive and   This is the legitimate and inevitable ter
insurmountable belief that we have of its mination of that determined scepticism which
existence, certainly is not to be surrendered, refuses to believe any thing without the highmerely because it is possible to suppose it est of all evidence, and chooses to conclude
erroneous; or difficult to comprehend how a positively that every thing is not, which may
material and immaterial substance can act possibly be conceived not to be. The process
upon each other. The evidence of this uni- of reasoning which it implies, is neither long
versal and irresistible belief, in short, is not nor intricate; and its conclusion would be
to be altogether disregarded; and, unless it undeniably just, if every thing was necessarily
can be shown that it leads to actual contra- true which could be asserted without a condictions and absurdities the utmost length tradiction. It is perfectly true, that we are
that philosophy can warrantably go, is to con- absolutely sure of nothing but what we feel at
clude that it may be delusive; but that it the present moment; and that it is possible
may also be true.                         to distinguish between the evidence we have
The rigorous maxim, of giving no faith to for the existence of the present impression,
any thing short of direct and immediate con- and the evidence of any other existence. The
sciousness, seems more calculated, we think, first alone is complete and unquestionable;
to perplex than to simplify our philosophy, we may hesitate about all the rest without
and will run us up, in two vast strides, to the any absolute contradiction. But the distincvery brink of absolute annihilation. We deny tion, we apprehend, is in itself of as little use
the existence of the material world, because in philosophy, as in ordinary life; and the abwe have not for it the primary evidence of solute and positive denial of all existence,
consciousness; and because the clear concep- except that of our immediate sensation, altotion and indestructible belief we have of it, gether rash and unwarranted. The objects
may be fallacious, for any thing we can prove of our perception and of our recollection, certo the contrary. This conclusion annihilates tainly may exist, although we cannot demon
at once all external objects; and, among strate that they must; and when in spite of
them, our own bodies, and the bodies atdl all our abstractions, we find that we must
minds of all other men; for it is quite evidcent come back, and not only reason with our felthat we can have no evidence of the exist- low creatures as separate existences, but enence of other minds, except through the me- gage daily in speculations about the qualities
diation of the matter they are supposed to and properties of matter, it must appear, at
animate; and if matter be nothing more than least, an unprofitable refinement which would
an affection of our own minds. there is an end lead us to dwell much on the possibility of
to the existence of every other. This first step, their nonexistence. There is no sceptic, protherefore, reduces the whole universe to the bably, who would be bold enough to maintain,
mind of the individual reasoner; and( leaves that this single doctrine of the nonexistence
no existence in nature, but one mind, with'its of any thing but our present impressions
compliment of sensations and ideas. The would constitute a just or useful system of
secoiid step goes still farther; and no one can logic and moral philosophy; and if, after
hesitate to take it, who has ventured d(eliber- flourishing with it as an unfruitful paradox in
ately on the first. If our senses may deceive the outset, we are obliged to recur to the orus, so may our memoryy;-if we will not be- dinary course of observation and conjecture
lieve in the existence of matter, because it is as to the nature of our faculties, it may be
not vouched by internal consciousness, and doubted whether any real benefit has been
because it is conceivable that it should not derived from its promulgation, or whether the
exist, we cannot consistently believe in the hypothesis can be received into any sober
reality of any past impression: for which, in system of philosophy. To deny the existence
like manner, we cannot have the direct evi- of matter and of mind, indeed, is not to phidence of consciousness, and of which our losophise, but to destroy the materials of phipresent recollection may possibly be. falla- losophy.  It requires no extraordinary incious. Even upon the vulgar hypothesis, we genuity or power of reasoning to perceive the
know that memory is much pore deceitful grounds upon which their existence may be
than perception; and there is still greater doubted; but we acknowledge that we cannot
hazard in assuming the reality of any past see how it can be said to have been disproved;
existence from our present recollection of it, and think we perceive very clearly, that phithan in relying on the reality of a present losophy will neither be simplified nor abridged
existence from our immediate perception. If by refusing to take it for granted.
we discredit our memory, however, and deny   Upon the whole, then, we are inclined to
all existence of which we hav6 not a present think, that the conception and belief which
consciousness or sensation, it is evident that we have of material objects (which is what
we must annihilate our own personal identity, we mean by the perception of them) does not
and refuse to believe that we had thought or amount to a complete proof of their existence,
sensation at any previous moment.  There but renders it sufficiently probable: that the
can be no reasoning, therefore, nor know- superior and complete assurance we have of,edge. nor opinion; and we mustend by vir- the existence of our present sensations, does
tually annihilating ourselves, and denying by no means entitle us positively to deny the
that any thing whatsoever exists in nature, reality of every other existence; and that as
but the present solitary and momentary im- this speculative scepticism neither renders as
pression.                                 independent of the ordinary modes of investi



500                   METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
gation, nor assists us materially in the use of Now, nothing, we conceive, is more obviou&
them, it is inexpedient to dwell long upon it than the fallacy of this reasoning. The ht.
in the course of our philosophical inquiries. king, or disliking, of men to a particular object,
and much more advisable to proceed upon has nothing to do with the perception of its
the supposition that the real condition of things external qualities; and they may differ enis conformable to our. natural apprehensions.  tirely as to their opinion of its agreeableness,
The little sketch we have now ventured to though they concur perfectly as to the deoffer of the abstract, or thorough-going phi- scription of all its properties. One man may
losophy of scepticism, will render it unneces- admire a tall woman, and another a short one;
sary for us to follow our author minutely but it would be rather rash to infer, that they
through the different branches of this inquiry. did not agree in recognising a difference in
Overlooking, or at least undervaluing the in- stature, or that they had no uniform ideas of
disputable fact, that our sensations are uni- magnitude in general. In the same way, one
formlyaccompanied with a distinct apprehen- person may have an antipathy to salt, and
sion, and firm belief in the existence of real another a liking for it; but they both perceive
external objects, he endeavours to prove, that it to be salt, and both agree in describing it
the qualities which we ascribe to them are in by that appellation. To give any degree of
reality'nothing more than names for our pecu- plausibility to Mr. Drummond's inferences, it
liar sensations; and maintains accordingly, would be necessary for him to show that some
that because men differ in their opinions of men thought brandy and Cayenne pepper in
the same object, it is impossible to suppose sipid and tasteless, and objected at the sama
that they actually perceive any real object at time to milk and spring water as excessively
all; as a real existence must always appear acrid and pungent.
the same to those who actually perceive it.    In the concluding part of his book, Mr.
His illustrations are of this nature. Water, Drummond undertakes nothing less than a
which feels tepid to a Laplander, would appear defence of the theory of Ideas, against the
cold to a native of Sumatra: But the same arguments of Dr. Reid.  This is a bold atwater cannot be both hot and cold: therefore tempt; but, we are inclined to think, not a
it is to be inferred that neither of them  is successful one. Mr. Drummond begins with
affected by any real quality in the external the old axiom, that nothing can act but where
body, but that each describes merely his it is; and infers, that as real material objects
own sensations. Now, the conclusion here is cannot penetrate to the seat of the soul, that
plainly altogether unwarranted by the fact; sentient principle can only perceive certain
since it is quite certain that both the persons images or ideas of them; against the assumpin question perceive the same quality in the tion of which he conceives there can be no
water, though they are affected by it in a dif- considerable obstacle. Now, it is needless,
ferent manner. The solution of the whole we think, to investigate the legitimacy of' this
puzzle is, that heat and cold are not different reasoning very narrowly, because the foundaqualities; but different degrees of'the same tion, we are persuaded, is unsound. The
quality, and probably exist only relatively to axiom, we believe, is now admitted to be
each other. If the water is of a higher tem- fallacious (in the sense at least here assigned
perature than the air, or the body of the to it) by all who have recently paid any attenperson who touches it, he will call it warm; tion to the subject. But what does Mr. Drumif of a lower temperature, he will call it cold. mond understand exactly by ideas? Does he
But this does not prove by any means, that mean certain films, shadlows or simulacra,
the difference between two distinct tempera- proceeding from real external existences, and
tures is ideal, or that it is not always perceived passing through real external organs to the
by all individuals in the very same way. If local habitation of the soul?  If he means
Mr. Drummond could find out a person who this, then he admits the existence of a manot only thought the water cold which other terial world, as clearly as Dr. Reid does;
people called warm, but also thought that and subjects himself to all the ridicule which
warm which they perceived to be cold, he he has' himself so justly bestowed upon the
might have some foundation for his inference; hypothesis of animal spirits, or any other
but while all mankind agree that ice is cold, supposition? which explains the intercourse
and steam hot, and concur indeed most exactly between mind and matter, by imagining some
in their judgments of the comparative heat of matter, of so fine a nature as almost to graall external bodies, it is plainly a mere quib- duate into mind! If, on the other hand, by
ble on the convertible nature of these quali- ideas, Mr. Drummond really means nothing
ties, to call in question the identity of their but sensations and perceptions (as we have
perceptions, because they make the variable already explained that word), it is quite obstandard of their own temperature the rule vious that Dr. Reid has never called their
for denominating other bodies hot or cold.  existence in question; and the whole debate
In the same way, Mr. Drummond goes on comes back to the presumptions for the existto say, one man calls the flavour of assafcetida ence of an external world; or the reasonablenauseous, and another thinks it agreeable;-  ness of trusting to that indestructible belief
one nation delights in a species of food which which certainly accompanies those sensations,
to its neighbours appears disgusting. How, as evidence of their having certain external
then, can we suppose that they perceive the causes. We cannot help doubting, whether
same real qualities, when their judgments in Mr. Drummond has clearly stated to himself,
regard to them are so diametrically opposite 1 in which of these two senses he proposes to




FORBES' LIFE OF DR. BEATTIE.                             50,
defend the doctrine of ideas. The doctrine guished by its colour, fiom the other portions
of IMAGES proceeding from  actual external that were perceived at the same time. I'
existences, is the only one in behalf of which seems equally impossible to dispute, however,
he can claim the support of the ancient phi- that we should receive from this impression
losophers; and it is to it he seems to allude, the belief and conception of an external exin several of the remarks which he makes on istence, and that we should have the very
the illusions of sight. On the other supposi- same evidence for its reality, as for that of the
tion, however, he has no occasion to dispute objects of our other senses. But if the exterwith Dr. Reid about the existence of ideas; for nal existence of light be admitted, a very
the Doctor assuredly did not deny that we slight attention to its laws and properties, will
had sensations and perceptions, notionls, re- show its appearances must vary, according taD
collections, and all the other affections of our distance from the solid objects which emit
mind to which the word idea may be applied, it. We perceive the form of bodies by sight,
in that other sense of it. There can be no in short, very nearly as a blind man perceives
question upon that supposition, but about the them, by tracing their extremities with his
origin of these ideas - which  belongs to stick: It is only the light in one case. and the
another chapter,                           stick in the other, that is properly felt or perMr. Drummond seems to lay the whole ceived; but the real form of the object is
stress of his argument upon a position of indicated, in both cases, by the state and disHume's, which he applies himself to vindicate position of the medium which connects it with
from the objections which Dr. Reid has urged our sensations. It is by intimations formerly
against it.  "The table which I see," says received from the sense of Touch. no doubt
Dr. Hume, "diminishes as I remove from it; that we ultimately discover that the rays oi
but the real table suffers no alteratton:-it light which strike our eyes with the imprescould be nothing but its image, therefore. sions of form and colour, proceed from distant
which was present to my mind."  Now this objects, which are solid and extended in three
statement, we think, admits pretty explicitly, dimensions; and it is only by recollecting
that there is a real table, the image of which what we have learned from this sense, that
is presented to the mind: but, at all events, we are enabled to conceive them as endued
we conceive that the phenomenon may be with these qualities. By the eye itself we
easily reconciled with the supposition of its do not perceive these qualities: nor. in strictreal existence. Dr. Reid's error, if there be ness of speech, do we perceive, by this sense,
one, seems to consist in his having asserted any qualities whatever of the reflecting obpositively, and without any qualification, that ject; we perceive merely the light which it
It is the real table which we perceive, when reflects; distinguished by its colour from the
our eyes are turned towards it. When the other light that falls on the eye along with it,
matter however is considered very strictly, it and assuming a new form and extension, acwill be found that by the sense of seeing we cording as the distance or position of the body
can perceive nothing but light, variously ar- is varied in regard to us. These variations
ranged and diversified; and that, when we are clearly explained by the known properties
look towards a table, we do not actually see of light, as ascertained by experiment; and
the table itself, but only the rays of light evidently afford no ground for supposing any
which are reflected from it to the eye. Inde- alteration in the object which emits it, or for
pendently (if the co-operation of our other throwing any doubts upon the real existence
senses, it seems generally to be admitted, that of such an object. Because the divergence
we should perceive nothing by seeing but an of the rays of light varies with the distance
assemblage of colours, divided by different between their origin and the eye, is there the
lines; and our only visual notion of the table slightest reason for pretending, that the mag(however real it might be) would, therefore, nitude of the object from which they proceed
be that of a definite portion of light, distin- must be held to have varied also.
(5trril, 1,   1 7.).4n account of the Life and Writings of James Beattie, LL. D. late Professor of Moral Phile'sophy and Logic in the Marischal College and University of Aberdeen: including many of his
original Letters. By Sir W. FORBES of Pitsligo, Baronet, one of the Executors of Dr.
Beattie. 2 vols. 4to. pp. 840. Edinburgh and London: 1806.
DR. BEATTIE'S great work, and that which measured praises are bestowed, both by his
was undoubtedly the first foundation of his ce- present biographer, and by all the author's
lebrity, is the "Essay on the Nature and male and female correspondents, that it is
Immutability of Truth;" on which such un- with difficulty we can believe that they ale
* The greater part of this article also is withheld speaking of the performance which we have
from the present reprint, for the reasons formerly just been wearying ourselves with looking
stated; and only those parts given which bear upon over. That the author's intentions were good,
points of metaphysics.                     and his convictions sincere, we entertain not




502                  METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
the least doubt; but that the merits of his   This is the whole dispute; and a pretty
book have been prodigiously overrated, we correct summary of the argument upon both
think, is equally undeniable. It contains ab- sides of the question. But is there any thing
solutely nothing, in the nature of argument, here that could justify the calling of r ames,
that had not been previously stated by Dr. or the violation of decorum among the disReid in his " Inquiry into the Human Mind;" putants? The question is, of all other quesand, in our opinion, in a much clearer and tions that can be suggested, the most purely
more unexceptionable form. As to the merits and entirely speculative, and obviously disof that philosophy, we have already taken connected from any practical or moral conoccasion, in more places than one, to submit sequences. After what Berkeley has written
our opinion to the judgment of our readers; on the subject, it must be a gross and wilful
and, after having settled our accounts with fallacy to pretend that the conduct of men can
Mr. Stewart and Dr. Reid, we really do not be in the smallest degree affeted by the
think it worth while to enter the lists again opinions they entertain about the existence
with Dr. Beattie. Whatever may be the ex- or nonexistence of matter.  The system
cellence of the common-sense school of phi- which maintains the latter leaves all our senlosophy, he certainly has no claim to the sations and perceptions unimpaired and en.
honours of a founder. He invented none of tire; and as it is by these, and by these only,
it; and it is very doubtful with us, whether that our conduct can ever be guided, it is
he ever rightly understood the principles upon evident that it can never be altered by the
which it depends. It is unquestionable, at adoption of that system. The whole dispute
least, that he has, exposed it to considerable is about the cause or origin of our perceptions;
disadvantage, and embarrassed its more en- which the one party ascribes to the action of
lightened supporters, by the misplaced con- external bodies, and the other to the inward
fidence with which he has urged some development of some mental energy. It is a
propositions, and the fallacious and fantastic question of pure curiosity; it never can be
illustrations by which he has aimed at recorn- decided; and as its decision is perfectly inmending many others.                     different and immaterial to any practical purHis confidence and his inaccuracy, however. pose, so, it might have been expected that
might have been easily forgiven. Every one the discussion should be conducted without
has not the capacity of writing philosophically: virulence or abuse.
But every one may at least be temperate and   The next grand dispute is about the evicandid; and Dr. Beattie's book is still more dence of Memory. The sceptics will have
remarkable forbeingabusive and acrimonious, it, that we are sure of nothing but our present
than for its defects in argument or originality. sensations; and that, though these are someThere are no subjects, however, in the wide times characterised by an impression and
field of human speculation, upon which such belief that other sensations did formerly exist,
vehemence appears more groundless and un- we can have no evidence of the justice of this
accountable, than the greater part of those belief, nor any certainty that this illusive conwhich have served Dr. Beattie for topics of ception of former sensation, which we call
declamation or invective.                memory, may not be an original affection of
His first great battle is about the real exist- our minds.  The orthodox philosophers, on
ence of external objects. The sceptics say, the other hand, maintain, that the instinctive
that perception is merely an act or affection reliance we have on memory is complete and
of the mind, and consequently might exist satisfactory proof of its accuracy; that it is
without any external cause. It is a sensation absurd to ask for the grounds of this belief;
or affection of the mind, to be sure, which and that we cannot call it in question without
consists in the apprehension and belief of such manifest inconsistency. The same observaexternal existences: But being in itself a phe- tions which were made on the argument for
nomenon purely mental, it is a mere supposition the existence of matter, apply also to this con.
or conjecture to hold that there are any such troversy. It is purely speculative, and withexistences, by whose operation it is produced. out application to any practical conclusion.
It is impossible, therefore, to bring any evi- The sceptics do not deny that they remember
dence for the existence of material objects; like other people, and, consequently, that they
and the belief which is admitted to be in- have an indestructible belief in past events or
separable from  the act of perception, can existences. All the question is about the origin,
never be received as such evidence. The or the justice of thisbelief;-whether it arise
whole question is about the grounds of this from such events having actually happened
belief, and not about its existence; and the before, or from some original affection of the
phenomena of dreaming and madness prove mind, which is attended with that impression.
experimentally, that perception, as character-   The argument. as commonly stated by the
ised by belief, may exist where there is no sceptics, leads only to a negative or sceptical
external object. Dr. Beattie answers. after conclusion. It amounts only to this, that the
Dr. Reid, that the mere existence of this in- present sensation, which we call memory,
stinctive and indestructible belief in the re- affords no conclusive evidence of past existence
ality of external objects, is a complete and and that for any thing that can be proved to
sufficient proof of their reality; that nature the contrary, nothing of what we remember
meant us to be satisfied with it; and that we may have existed. We think this undeniably
cannot call it in question, without running into true; and so we believe did Dr. Beattie. He
the greatest absurdity.                  thought it also very useless; and there, too,




FORBES'  LIFE OF DR. BEATTIE.                          503
we agree with him: But he thought it very consequences are perfectly harmless. Their
wicked and very despicably silly; and there reasonings are about as ingenious and as innowe cannot agree with him at all. It is a very cent as some of those which have been empretty and ingenious puzzle,-affords a very ployed to establish certain strange paradoxes
useful mortification to human reason,-and as to the nature of motion, or the infinite divisleads us to that state of philosophical wonder ibility of matter. The argument is perfectly
and perplexity in which we feel our own logical and unanswerable; and yet no man in
helplessness, and in which we ought to feel his senses can practically admit the concluthe impropriety of all dogmatism or arrogance sion. Thus, it may be strictly demonstrated,
in reasoning upon such subjects. This is the that the swiftest moving body can never overonly use and the only meaning of such scep- take the slowest which is before it at the comtical speculations.  It is altogether unfair, mencement of the motion; or, in the words
and indeed absurd, to suppose that their of the original problem, that the swift-footed
authors could ever mean positively to main- Achilles could never overtake a snail that had
tain that we should try to get the better of a few yards the start of him. The reasoning
any reliance on our memories, or that they upon which this valuable proposition is foundthemselves really doubted more than other ed, does not admit, we believe, of any direct
people as to the past reality of the things confutation; and yet there are few, we supthey remembered. The very arguments they pose, who, upon the faith of it, would take abet
use, indeed, to show that the evidence of as to the result of such arace. The sceptical
memory may be fallacious, prove, completely, reasonings as to the mind lead to no other
that. inpoint of fact, they relied as implicitly practical conclusion; and may be answered
as their antagonists on the accuracy of that or acquiesced in with the same good nature.
faculty. If they were not sure that they re-   Such, however, are the chief topics which
collected the premises of their own reason- Dr. Beattie has discussed in this Essay, with
ings, it is evidently impossible that they a vehemence of temper, and an impotence
should ever have come to any conclusion. of reasoning, equally surprising and humiliaIf they did not believe that they had seen the ting to the cause of philosophy. The subjects
books they answered, it is impossible they we have mentioned occupy the greater part
should have set about answering them.     of the work, and are indeed almost the only
The truth is, however, that all men have a ones to which its title at all applies. Yet we
practical and irresistible belief both in the think it must be already apparent, that there
existence of matter, and in the accuracy of is nothing whatever in the doctrines he opmemory; and that no sceptical writer ever poses, to call down his indignation, or to jusmeant or expected to destroy this practical tify his abuse. That there are other doctrines
belief in other persons. All that they aimed in some of the books which he has aimed at
at was to show their own ingenuity, and the confuting, which would justify the most zealnarrow limits of the human understanding;- ous opposition of every friend to religion, we
to point out a curious distinction between the readily admit; but these have no necessary
evidence of immediate consciousness, and dependence on the general speculative secepthat of perception of memory,-and to show  ticism to which we have now been alluding,
tihat there was a kind of logical or argumen- and will be best refuted by those who lay all
tative possibility, that the objects of the latter that general reasoning entirely out of confaculties might have no existence.  There sideration. Mr. Hume's theory of morals,
l:ever was any danger of their persuading which, when rightly understood, we conceive
men to distrust their senses or their memory; to be both salutary and true, certainly has no
aor can they be rationally suspected of such connection with his doctrine of ideas and iman intention. On the contrary, they neces- pressions; and the great question of liberty
sarily took for granted the instinctive and in- and necessity, which Dr. Beattie has settled,
destructible belief for which they found it so by mistaking, throughout, the power of doing
difficult to account. Their whole reasonings what we will, for the power of willing withconsist of an attempt to explain that admitted out motives, evidently depends upon considerfact, and to ascertain the grounds upon which ations altogether apart from the nature and
that belief depends. In the end, they agree immutability of truth. It has always appeared
with their adversaries that those grounds can- to us, indeed, that too much importance has
not be ascertained: and the only difference been attached to Theories of morals, and to
between them  is. that the adversary main- speculations on the sources of approbation.
tains that they need no explanation; while the Our feelings of approbation and disapprobasceptic insists that the want of it still leaves tion, and the moral distinctions which are
a possibility that the belief may be fallacious; raised upon them, are Facts which no theory
and at any rate establishes a distinction, in can alter, although it may fail to explain.
degree, between the primary evidence of con- While these facts remain, they must regulate
sciousness, which it is impossible to distrust the conduct, and affect the happiness of manwithout a contradiction, and the secondary evi- kind, whether they are well or ill accounted
dence of perception and memory, which may for by the theories of philosophers. It is the
be clearly conceived to be erroneous.     same nearly with regard to the controversy
To this extent, we are clearly of opinion about cause and effect. It does not appeal to
that the sceptics are right; and though the us, however, that Mr. Hume ever meant to
value of the discovery certainly is as small as deny the existence of such a relation, or ~f
possible, we are just as well satisfied that its the rela'ive idea of power. He has merely




504                   METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
given a new theory as to its genealogy or scholars of the south, who knew little of meta
descellt; and detected some very gross inac- physics themselves, to get a Scotch professor
curacies in the opinions and reasonings which of philosophy to take up the gauntlet in then
were formerly prevalent on the subject.   behalf. The contempt with which he chose
If Dr. Beattie had been able to refute these to speak of his antagonists was the very tone
doctrines, we cannot help thinking that he which they wished to be adopted; and, some
would have done it with more temper and of them, imposed on by the confidence of his
moderation; and disdained to court popularity  manner, and some resolved to give it all
by so much fulsome cant about common sense, chances of imposing on others, they joined in
virtue, and religion, and his contempt and  one clamour of approbation, and proclaimed a
abhorrence for infidels, sophists, and meta- triumph for a mere rash skirmisher, while the
physicians; by such babyish interjections, as leader of the battle was still doubtful of the
"fy on it! fy on it!"-such triumphant ex- victory. The book, thus dandled into popuclamations, as, "say, ye candid and intelli- ]larity by bishops and good ladies, contained
gent!"V-or such terrific addresses, as, "ye many pieces of nursery eloquence, and much
traitors to human kind! ye murderers of the innocent pleasantry: it was not fatiguing to
human soul!-" vain hypocrites! perfidious the understanding; and read less heavily, on
profligates!" and a variety of other embellish- the whole, than most of the Sunday library.
ments, as dignified as original in a philosophi- In consequence of all these recommendations,
cal and argumentative treatise. The truth is, it ran through various editions, and found its
that the Essay acquired its popularity, partly way into most well-regulated families; and,
from the indifference and dislike which has though made up of such stuff, as we really
long prevailed in'England, as to the meta- believe no grown man who had ever thought
physical inquiries which were there made the of the subject could possibly go through withsubject of abuse; partly from the perpetual out nausea and compassion, still retains its
appeal which it affects to make from philoso- place among the meritorious performances,
phical subtlety to common sense; and partly by which youthful minds are to be purified
from the accidental circumstances of the au- and invigorated. We shall hear no more of it,
thor. It was a great matter for the orthodox however, among those who have left college.
(X overnber, 1 S1O.)
Philosophical Essays. By DUGALD STEWART, Esq., F. R. S. Edinburgh, Emeritus Professor of
Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, &c. &c. 4to. pp. 590. Edinburgh: 1810
THE studies to which Mr. Stewart has de- Iand to constitute, in this way, a signal ex.
voted himself, have lately fallen out of favour ample of that compensation, by which the good
with the English public; and the nation which and evil in our lot is constantly equalised, or
once placed the name of Locke immediately reduced at least to no very variable standard.
under those of Shakespeare and of Newton    The progress of knowledge has given birth,
and has since repaid the metaphysical labours of late years, to so many arts and sciences, that
of Berkeley and of Hume with such just ce- a man of liberal curiosity finds both sufficient
lebrity, seems now to be almost without zeal occupation for his time, and sufficient exercise
or curiosity as to the progress of the Philoso- to his understanding, in acquiring a superficial
phy of Mind.                              knowledge of such as are most inviting and
The causes of this distaste it would be cu- most popular; and, consequently, has much
rious, and probably not uninstructive, to inves- less leisure, and less inducement than formerly,
tigate: but the inquiry would be laborious, to dedicate himself to those abstract studies
and perhaps not very satisfactory. It is easy, which call for more patient and persevering
indeed, to say, that the age has become fri- attention. In older times, a man had nothing
volous and impatient of labour; and has aban- for it, but either to be absolutely ignorant and
cdoned this, along with all other good learning, idle, or to take seriously to theology and the
and every pursuit that requires concentration school logic. When things grew a little betof thought, and does not lead to immediate ter, the classics and mathematics filled up the
distinction. This is- satire, and not reason- measure of general education and private
ing; and, were it even a fair statement of the study; and, in the most splendid periods of
fact, such a revolution in the intellectual English philosophy, had received little adhabits and character of a nation, is itself a dition, but from these investigations into our
phenomenon to be accounted for, -and not to intellectual and moral nature. Some few inbe accounted for upon light or shallow con- dividuals might attend to other things; but a
siderations. To us, the phenomenon, in so knowledge of these was all that was rcejuired
far as we are inclined to admit its existence, of men of good education; and was held ace
has always appeared to arise from the great complishment enough to entitle them to the
multiplication of the branches of liberal study, rank of scholars and philosophers. Now-aand from  the more extensive diffusion of days, however, the necessary qualification is
knowledge among the body of the people,-  prodigiously raised,-at least in denomina,.




STEWART'S PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS.                             50o
tton; and a man can scarcely pass current in elements of mathematical learning, and were
the informed circles of society, without know- even suspected of having fallen into several
ing something of political economy, chemistry, heresies in metaphysics, merely from want
mineralogy, geology, and etymology,-having of time to get regularly at the truth!
a small notion of painting, sculpture, and ar-   If the philosophy of mind has really suffered
chitecture, with some sort of taste for the more, from this universal hurry, than all her
picturesque,-and a smattering of German sister sciences of the same serious complexand Spanish literature, and even some idea ion, we should be inclined to ascribe this misof Indian, Sanscrit, and Chinese learning and fortune, partiy to the very excellence of what
history,-over and above some little know- has been already achieved by her votaries,
ledge of trade and agriculture; with a reason- and partly to the very severe treatment which
able acquaintance with what is called the phi- their predecessors have received at their hands.
losophy ofpolitics, and a far more extensive Almost all the great practical maxims of this
knowledge of existing parties, factions, and mistress of human life, such as the use of the
eminent individuals, both literary and politi- principle of Association in education, and the
cal, at home and abroad, than ever were re- generation and consequences of Habits in all
quired in any earlier period of society. The periods of life, have been lately illustrated ill
dissipation of time and of attention occasion- the most popular and satisfactory manner;
ed by these multifarious occupations, is, of and rendered so clear and familiar, as rules
course, very unfavourable to the pursuit of of practical utility, that few persons think it
any abstract or continued study; and even if necessary to examine into the details of that
a man could, for himself, be content to remain fine philosophy by which they may have been
ignorant of many things, in order to obtain a first suggested, or brought into notice. There
profound knowledge of a few, it would be is nothing that strikes one as very important
difficult for him, in the present state of the to be known upon these subjects, which may
world, to resist the impulse and the seduc- not now be established in a more vulgar and
tions that assail him from without. Various empirical manner, —or which requires, in
and superficial knowledge is now not only so order to be understood, that the whole procommon, thfat the want of it is felt as a dis- cess of a scientific investigation should be
grace; but the facilities of acquiring it are so gone over. By most persons, therefore, the
great, that it is scarcely possible to defend labour of such an investigation will be deourselves against its intrusion. So many easy cined; and the practical benefits appliedand pleasant elementary books,-such tempt- with ungrateful indifference to the sources
ing summaries, abstracts, and tables,-such from  which they were derived. Of those,
beautiful engravings, and ingenious charts, again, whom  curiosity might still tempt to
and coups-d'xcil of information,-so many mu- look a little closer upon this great field of
seums, exhibitions, and collections, meet us at wonders, no small part are dismayed at the
every corner,-and so much amusing and pro- scene of ruin which it exhibits. The destruc*voking talk in every party, that a taste for tion of ancient errors, has hitherto constituted
miscellaneous and imperfect information is so very large a part of the task of modern
formed, almost before we are aware; and our philosophers, that they may be said to have
time and curiosity irrevocably devoted to a been employed rather in throwing down, than
sort of Encyclopedical trifling.           in bAilding up, and have as yet established
In the mean time, the misfortune is, that very little but the fallacy of all former phithere is no popular nor royal road to the pro- losophy. Now, they who had been accus.
founder and more abstract truths of philoso- tomed to admire that ancient philosophy, can
phy; and that these are apt, accordingly, to not be supposed to be much delighted with
fall into discredit or neglect, at a period when its demolition; and, at all events, are natuit is labour enough for most men to keep them- rally discouraged from again attaching themselves up to the level of that great tide of selves to a system, which they may soon have
popular information, which has been rising, the mortification of seeing subverted in its
with such unexampled rapidity, for the last turn. In their minds, therefore, the opening
forty years.                                of such a course of study is apt only to breed
Such, we think, are the most general and a general distrust of philosophy, and to rivet
uncontrollable causes which have recently a conviction of its extreme and irremediable
depressed all the sciences requiring deep uncertainty: while those who had previously
thought and solitary application, far below the been indifferent to the systems of error, are
level of their actual importance; and pro- displeased with the labour of a needless refduced the singular appearance of a partial utation; and disappointed to find, that, after
falling off in intellectual enterprise and vigour, a loug course of inquiry, they are brought
in an age distinguished, perhaps, above all back to that very state of ignorance from
others, for the rapid development of the hu- which they had expected it would relieve
man faculties.  The efect we had formerly them.
occasion to observe, when treating of the sin-   If anything could counteract the effect of
gular decay of Mathematical science in Eng- these and some other causes, and revive in
land; and so powerful and extensive is the England that taste for abstract speculation for
operation of the cause, that, even in the intel- which it was once so distinguished, we should
lectual city which we inhabit, we have known have expected this to be accomplished by the
instances of persons of good capacity  who publications of the author before us. —The
had never found leisure to go beyond the first great celebrity of his name, and the uniform




506                   METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
clearness, simplic ty, and good sense of his ple. while it was admitted that the case was
statements, might indeed have failed to attract somewhat different, it was observed, that al
those whom similar merits could no longer men were in reality aware of its existence,
tempt to look into the pages of Locke or of and acted upon it on all important occasions,
Berkeley. But the singular eloquence with though they might never have made its laws
which Mr.Stewart has contrived to adorn the a subject of reflection, nor ever stated its
most unpromising parts of his subject, —the general phenomena in the form of an abstract
rich lights which his imagination has every proposition.
where thrown in, with such inimitable judg-   To all this Mr. Stewart proceeds to answer,
ment and effects —the warm glow of moral by observing, that the distinction between exenthusiasm which he has spread over the periment and observation is really of no imwhole of his composition,-and the tone of portance whatever, in reference to this argumildness, dignity, and animation which he ment; because the facts disclosed by experihas uniformly sustained, in controver'sy, as ment are merely phenomena that are observed,
well as in instruction; are merits which we and the inferences and generalisations that
do not remember to have seen united in any are deduced from the observation of sponother philosophical writer; and which might taneous phenomena, are just of the same sort
have recommended to general notice, topics with those that are inferred from experiment,
far less engaging than those on which they and afford equally certain grounds. of concluwere employed. His former work, oil the sion, provided they be sufficiently numerous
Philosophy of the Human Mind, has accord- and consistent. The justice of the last proingly been more read than any other modern position, we do not mean to dispute; and
book on such subjects; and the volume be- assuredly, if any thing inconsistent with it is
fore us, we think, is calculated to- be still more to be found in our former speculations, it must
popular.*                                  have arisen from that haste and inadvertence
But it is in the second part of the Prelimi- which. we make no doubt, have often betraynary Dissertation that we take the chief in- ed us into still greater errors. But it is very
terest-as Mr. Stewart has there taken occa- far from following from this, that there is not
sion to make a formal reply to some of our a material difference between experiment and
hasty speculations, and has done us the honour observation; or that the philosophy of mind
of embodying several of our transitory pages in not necessarily restrained within very narin this enduring volume. If we were at row limits, in consequence of that distinction.
liberty to yield to the common weaknesses Substances which are in our power, are the
of authors, we should probably be tempted to objects of experiment; those which are not
defend ourselves in a long dissertation; but in our power, of observation only. With re.
we know too well what is due to our readers gard to the former, it is obvious, that, by well.
and to the public, to think of engaging any contrived experiments. we may discover many
considerable share of their attention with a things that could never be disclosed by any
controversy which may be considered in some length of observation. With regard to the
measure as personal to ourselves; and there- latter, an attentive observer may, indeed, see
fore, however honourable we think it, to be more in them than strikes the eye of a carethus singled out for equal combat by such an less spectator: But he call see nothing that
antagonist, we shall put what we have tLsay  may not be seen by every body; and, in cases
within the shortest possible compass.      where the appearances are very few, or very
The observations to which Mr. Stewart has interesting, the chance is, that he does see
here condescended to reply,. occur in an early nothing more-and that all that is left to phinumber of our publication, and were intended losophy is, to distinguish them into classes.
to show, that as mind was not the proper sub- and to fit them with appropriate appellations.
ject of Experiment, but of Observation, so, Now, Mind, we humbly conceive, considered
there could be no very close analogy between as a subject of investigation, is the subject of
the rules of metaphysical investigation, and observation only; and is known nearly as well
the most approved methods of inquiry as to by all men, as by those who have most dili.
those physical substances which are subject gently studied its phenomena. "We cannot
to our disposal and control; — that as all the decompose our sensations," we formerly obfacts with regard to mind must be derived served, "in a crucible, nor divide our percepfrom previous and universal Consciousness, it tions with a prism.11 The metaphor was somewas difficut to see how any arrangement of thing violent; but, the meaning obviously
them could add to our substantial knowledge; was, that we cannot subject those faculties
and that there was, therefore, no reason either to any analogous processes; nor discover more
to expect Discoveries in this branch of science, of their nature than consciousness has taught
or to look to it for any real augmentation of all the beings who possess them.  Is it a
our Power.                                 satisfactory answer, then, for Mr. Stewart. to
With regard to Perception and the other say, that we may analyse them by reflection
primary functions of mind, it was observed, and attention, and other instruments better
that this doctrine seemed to hold without any suited than prisms or crucibles to the intellimitation; and as to the Associating princi- lectual laboratory which furnishes their maA  portionoftheo al article, containing a terials? Our reply is, that we cannot analyse
* A portion of the original article, containing a them at all and can never knov more of them
general view of the subject of these Essays, is here them at all; and can never know more of them
omitted, for the reasons stated at the head of this than has always been known to all to whom
division.                                 they had been imparted; and that, for this




STEWART'S PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS.                                 so'
plain reason, that the truth of every thing that when he removes those outer integuments,
is said with regard to the mind, can be deter- and reveals the wonders of the inward organi.
mined by an appeal to consciousness alone, sation of our frame.  His statements do not
and would not be even intelligible, if it in- receive their proof from the previous, though
formed men of any thing that they did not perhaps undigested knowledge of his hearers,
previously feel to be true.                    but from the actual revelation which he makes
With regard to the' actual experiments to to their senses; and his services would eviwhich Mr. Stewart alludes, as having helped  dently be more akin to those of the metaphyto explain the means by which the eye judges sician, if, instead of actually disclosing what
of distances and magnitudes; these, we must was not previously khown, or suspected to
observe, are,'according to our conception, very  exist, he had only drawn the attention of an
clearly experiments, not upon mind, but upon  incurious generation to the fact that they had
matter; and are only entitled to that name at each ten fingers and ten toes, or that most of
all, in so far as they are carried on by means them  had thirty-two teeth, distinguishable
of the power we possess of disposing certain  into masticators and incisors.
pieces of matter in certain masses and inter-   When, from these, and some other considvals.  Strictly considered, they are optical erations, we had ventured to infer, that the
expeiiments on the effects produced by dis- knowledge derived from  mere observation
tance on the  light reflected from  known  could scarcely make any addition to  our
bodies; and are nearly akin to experiments power, Mr. Stewart refers triumphantly to the
on the effects produced on such reflected rays instance of astronomy; and, taking it almost.
by the interposition of media of different re- for granted, that all the discoveries in that
fracting powers, whether in the shape of science have been made by observation alone,
prisms, or in any other shape.  At all events, directs the attention of his readers to the inthey certainly are not investigations carried  numerable applications which may be made
on solely by attending to the subjects of our of it, to purposes of unquestioned utility.
Consciousness; which is Mr. Stewart's own    "In compensation," he observes, "for the in.
definition of the business of the philosophy  ability of' the astronomer to control those moveof mind.                                      nments of which he studies the laws, he may boast.,
In answer to our remark, that "no meta- as I already hinted, of the immense accession of a
physician expects, by analysis, to discover a more useful power which his discoveries have added
new  power, or to excite a new sensation in  to the human race, on the surface of their own
the mind, as the chemist discovers a new earth  planet. It would he endless toare su bseratvient 
or a new metal," Mr. Stewart is pleased to  It is sufficient for me to repeat an old, but very
observe-                                       striking reflection, that the only accurate knowledge
which Man yet possesses of the surface of the earth,
of  the mind, than  t   o the anatomy oas been derived from the previous knowledge he
of the mind, than to the anatomy of the body.  ad acquired of the phenomena of the stars. Is it
After all the researches of physiologists on this last possible t e a more apposite, or a more unsubject, both in the way of observation and of ex- possible to produce a more apposite, or a   more un.
periment, no discovery has yet been made of a new  deniable proof of the universality of Bacon's maxim,
organ, either of power or of pleasure, or even of that'knowledge s power,' than a fact which de
orgthe means f addn a cubit to the huan stature  monstrates the essential aid which man has derived,
the means of adding a cubit to the human stature; in asserting his dominion over this lower world,
in asserting his dominion over this lower world,
but it does not there fore follow that these researches from a branch of science which seems, at first view,
from a branch of science which seems, at first view,
are useless. By enlarging hey is knowledge of his fitted only to gratify a speculative curiosity; and
maown intr  nal structur, thy incraslone the poer of which, in its infancy, served to amuse the leisure
man, in that way in which alone they profess to of the Chaldean shepherd?"-Prelim. Diss. pp.
increase it. They furnish him with resources for of     ix.
remedying many of the accidents to which his
health and his life are liable; for recovering, in some    To this we have to answer, in the first place
cases, those active powers which disease has de- that astronomical science has not been perstroyed or impaired; and, in others, by giving sight fected by observation alone; but that all the
to the blind, and hearing to the deaf, for awakening  elements which have imparted to it the cerpowers of perception which were dormant before.
Nor must we overlook what they have contributed, tainty, the simplicity, and the sublimity which
in conjunction with the arts of the optician and of it actually possesses, have been derived from
the mechanist, to extend the sphere of those senses, experiments made upon  substances in the
and to prolong their duration."-Prelim. Diss. pp. power of their contrivers;-from experiments
wi,  intii..                            performed with small pieces of matter, on
Now, ingenious and elegant as this parallel the laws of projectile motion-the velocities
must be admitted to be, we cannot help re- of falling bodies —and on centrifugal and cengarding it as utterly fallacious-for this sim- tripetal forces. The knowledge of those laws,
pie reason —that the business of anatomy is like all other valuable knowledge, was obto lay open, with the knife, the secrets of that tained by experiment only; and their appliinternal structure, which could never other- cation to the movements of the heavenly
wise be apparent to the keenest eye; while bodies was one of those splendid generalisathe metaphysical inquire, can disclosenothing  tions, which derive their chief merit from
of which all his pupils are not previously  those inherent imperfections of observation by
aware.  There is no opaque skin, in short, on which they were rendered necessary.
the mind, to conceal its interior mechanism;   But, in the second place, we must observe.
nor does the metaphysician, when he appeals that even holding astronomy to be a science
to the consciousness of all thinking beings of mere observation, the power which Mr.
for the truth of his classifications, perform  Stewart says we have obtained by means of
any thing at all analogous to the dissector, it, is confessedly a power, not over the sub.




608                    METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
stances with which that science is conversant; have been but a remote and casual auxiliar)
but over other substances which stand in some  Lo him  whose genius afterwards found the
relation to them; and to which, accordingly, means of employing those phenomena to
that science is capable of being applied.  It guide him  through the trackless waters of
is over the earth and the ocean that we have the ocean.-Epxeriment. therefore, necessari.
extended our dominion by means of our know- ly implies power; and, by suggesting analo.
ledge of the stars.  Now, applying this case gous experiments, leads naturally to the into that of the philosophy of Mind, and as- terminable expansion of inquiry and of know.
suming, as we seem here entitled to assume, ledge: —but observation, for the most part,
that it has invested us with no new power centres in itself and tends rather to gratify
over mind itself,-what, we would ask, are and allay our curiosity, than to rouse or inthe other objects over which our power is in- flame it.
creased by means of our knowledge of mind?   After having thus attemped to prove that
Is there any other substance to which that experiment has no prerogative above mere obknowledge can possibly be applied? Is there servation, Mr. Stewart thinks it worth while
any thing else that we either know better, or to recur again to the assertion. that the phi.
can dispose of more effectually in consequence losophv of mind does admit of experiments;
of our observations on our own intellectual and, after remarking,. rather rashly, that
constitution?  It is evident, we humbly con- "the whole of a philosopher's life, if' he
ceive, that these questions must be answered  spends it to any purpose, is one continued sein the negative. The most precise knowledge ries of experiments on his own faculties and
which the metaphysician can acquire by re- powers,7  he goes on to state, that
fleeting on the subjects of his consciousness.        hardly any experiment can be imagined,
can give him no new power over the mind in which has not already been tried by the hand of
which he discovers those subjects; and it is Nature; displaying, in the infinite varieties of hualmost a self-evident proposition, that the man genius and pursuits, the astonishingly diversimost accurate knowledge of the subjects of fled effects, resulting from the possible combinaconsciousness can give him  no poswer over tions, of those elementary faculties and principles,
coany thing but mind.    him no power over of which every man is conscious in himselfl Savage
a ~ny thing but mind,.~ ~society, and all the different modes oft civilization;
There is one other little point connected -the different callings and professions of individuwith this argument, which we wish to settle als, whether liberal or mechanical; the prejudiced
with Mr. Stewart.  In speaking of the useful clown;-the factitious man of fashion;-the varyapplications that may be ultimately made of ing phases of character from infancy to old age;the knowledge derived from  observation, we the prodigies effected by human art in all the
objects around us; — laws,- government,- comhad said, that for the power or the benefit so merce,-religion:-but above all, the records of
obtained, mankind were indebted-not to the  thought, preserved in those volumes which fill our
observer, but to him who suggested the ap- libraries; wvhat are they but experiments, by which
plication.  Mr. Stewart admits the truth of Nature illustrates, for our instruction, on her own
this-but adds, that the case is exactly the grand scale, the varied range of man's intellectual
same with the knowledge derived from ex- faculsies, and the omnipotence of education in
fashioning  his mind? " —Prel. Diss. pp. xlv, xlvi.
periment;-and that the mere empiric is on a
footing with the mere observer. Now, we do    If experiment be rightly defined the intennot think the cases exactly the same;-and  tional arrangement of substances in our power,
it is in their difference that we conceive the for the purpose of observing the result, then
great disadvantage of observation to consist. these are not experiments; and neither imWhoever makes an experiment, must have ply, nor tend to bestow, that power which
the power at least to repeat that experiment enters into the conception of all experiment.
-and, in almost every case, to repeat it with But the argument. in our apprehension, is
some variation of circumstances. Here, there- chargeable with a still more radical fallacy.
fore, is one power necessarily ascertained and  The philosophy of mind is distinctly defined,
established, and an invitation held out to in- by Mr. Stewart himself, to be that which is
crease that power, by tracing it through all employedc "on phenomena of which we are
the stages and degrees of its existence: while conscious;" its peculiar object and aim  is
he who merely observes a phenomenon over stated to be, "to ascertain the laws of our
which he has no control, neither exercises any  constitution, in so far as they can be ascerpower, nor holds out the prospect of acquir- tained. by attention to the subjects of our
ing any power, either over the subject of his consciousness;" and, in a great variety of pas.
observation, or over any other substance. He sages, it is explained. that the powers by
who first ascertained, by experiment, the ex- which all this is to be effected, are. reflection
pansive force of steam, and its destruction by upon our mental operations, and the faculty
cold-or the identity of lightning and elec- of calm and patient attention to the sensations
tricity, and the consequent use of the con- of which we are conscious.  But, if this be
ducting rod, plainly bestowed, in that instant, the proper province and object of the philoso.
a great power upon mankind, of which it was phy of mind, what benefit is the student to
next to impossible that some important appli- receive from observing the various effects of
cation should not be speedily made.  But he manners and situation, in imparting a pecu.
who first observed the periodical immersions liar colour or bias to the character of the savy
and einersions of the satellites of Jupiter, cer- age and the citizen. " the prejudiced clown,
tainly neither acquired  nor bestowed any and factitious man of fashion?"  The obser..power in the first instance; and seems to vation of such varieties is, no doubt, a very




STEWART'S PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS.
curious and a very interesting occupation; —  sation, in respect both to the certainty ald the
but we humbly conceive it to form no part, or, extent of its application; at the same time
at least; a very small aaid inconsiderable part, that we felt ourselves collstrained to a(ltl, that,
of the occupation of a student of philosophy. even as to this habit of the mind, Philosophy
It is an occupation which can only be effec- could lay no claim  to the honllours of a distually pursued, in the world. by travelling, and  covcry; since the prinlciple was uldoubtedly
intercourse with society; and, at all events,  familiar to the feelings of all men, and was
by vigilant observation of what is shown to acted upon. with unvary-llng sagacity, ill almost
us, by our senses, of the proceedings of our every case where it could be employed with
fellow-men.  The philosophy of mindl how- advantage; though by persons who had never
ever, is to be cultivated in solitude and silence thought of embodyilng it in a maxim, or at.
-by calmrn reflection on our owno metital ex- tending to it as a law of general application.
periences, and patient attention to the sub- The whole scheme of education, it was objects of our own consciousness.  But can we served(, has beeni founded on this principle,
ever be conscious of those v'arieties of temper in every age of the world.  n"The groom,    it
and character that distinguish the lifferent was addedi.   who never heard of idleas or asconditions of human life?-or, even inldepend- sociations, feeds the young wvar-horse to the
ent of Mr. Stewart's definitioi —is it reconila- sound of the trumpet; and the unphilosophible to common usage or general understand- cal artists who tame elephants, or train dan.
ing, to call our attenltion to such particulars cing dogs, proceed on the same obvious and
the study of the philosophy of mind?'-Is it familiar principle."
not, on the contrary, universally understood    As this part of our speculations has into be the peculiar and limited province of curred more of Mr. Stewart's disapprobation
that philosophy, to explain the nature and  than any thing which we have hitherto atdistinctions of those p)rimary functions of the tempted to defend, w  e think ourselves called
mind, which are possessed in common by  upon to state the substance of his objections,
men of all vocations and all conditions? —to  in his own eloquent and impressive words.
treat, in short, of perception, and attention, After quoting the sentence we have already
and memory, and irhagination, and volition, transcribed, he proceeds: —
and judgment, and all the other powers or   " This argument, I suspect, leads a little too far
faculties into which our intellectual nature  for the purpose of its author; inasmuch as it conmay be distinguished?-Is it not with these  eludes still more forcibly (in consequence of the
that Hobbes, and Locke, and Berkeley, atid great familiarity of the subject) against Physics,
Reidl, antd all the other philosophers wNaho have strictly so called, than against the Science of Mind.
reasoned alor p       philosophrised  about min) have The savage, who never heard of t'ie accelerating
reasoned or philosophised about mind, have force of gravity, yet knows how to add to the mobeen occupied?-or, what share of Mr. Stew- mentum of' his missile weapons, by gaining an emiart's own invaluable publications is devoted  nence; though a stranger to Newton's third law of
to those slighter shades of individual charac- motion, he applies it to its practical use, when he
ter, to which alone his supposed experiments sets his canoe afloat, by pushing with a pole against
have any reference'    The philosophy of the the shore: in the use of his sling, he illustrates,
huave mand wefonceive. T po s oy ofwith equal success, the doctrine of centrifugal
human mind, we conceive, is conversant only forces, as he exemplifies (without any knowledge
with what is common to all human beings-  of the experiments of Robins) the principle of the
and with those faculties of which every indi- rifle-barrel, in feathering his arrow.  The same
vi(l-ual of the species is equally conscious: groom who, "in feeding his young war-horse to
and though it may occasionally borrow illus- the sound of the drum," has nothing to learn from
Locke or from Hume concerning the laws of assotrations, or even derive some reflected light ciation, might boast, with fhr greater reason, that,
from the contemplation of those slighter va- without having looked into Borelli, he can train that
rieties that distinguish one individual from  animal to his various paces; and that, when he
another, this evidently forms no part of the exercises him with the longe, he exhibits an exstudly of the subjects of our consciousness, perimental illustration of the centrifugal force, and
and can never be permitted to rank as a le- of the centre of gravity, which was known in the
gitimate part of that philosophy,            riding-school long before their theories were ungitimate part of that philosophy.        folded in the Principia of Newton. Even the opeThis exhausts almost all that we have to rations of the animal which is the subject of his
say in defence of our supposed heresies as to discipline, seem to involve an acquaintance with the
the importance and practical value of the same physical laws, when we attend to the mathephilosophy of mind, considered with refer- matical accuracy with which he adapts theobliquity
ence to the primary and more ele~mentary  of his body to the rate of his circular speed. In
ence to the primary and more    elementar y both cases (in that of the man as well as of the
faculties of man. With regard to the Asso- brute) this practical knowledge is obtruded on the
ciating principle, we have still a word or two organs of external sense by the hand of Nature
to add.  In our original observations we ad- herself: But it is not on that account the less useful
mitted, that this principle seemed to stand in to evolve the general theorems which are thus ema situation somewhat different from the sim- bodied with their particular applications; and to
pler phenomena of the mind-and that the combine them in a systematical and scientific form,
pler phenomena of the mind —and that thefor our own instruction and that of others. Does
elucidations which Philosophy had furnished  it detract from the value of the theory of pneuma
with regard to its operations, were not so ties to remark, that the same effects of a vacuum,
easily recognised as previously impressed on and of the elasticity and pressure of the air, which
our consciousness, as most of her revelations. afford an explanation of its most curious phenoWe allowed, therefore, that some utility might mena, are recognized in an instinctive process
cogval with the first breath which we draw; and
be derived from  the clear exposition of this exemplified in the mouth of every babe and suckmore complicated part of our mental organi- ling?"-Prel. Diss. p, Ix. lx.




510                  METAPHYSICS AND JURISPRUDENCE.
Now, without recurring to what we have is it to be believed, that there can be many
already said as to the total absence of power occasions for its employment in the govern.
in all cases of mere observation, we shall ment of the human mind, of wh:ch men
merely request our readers to consider, what have never yet had the sense to bethink
is the circumstance that bestows a value, an themselves? Or, can it Se seriously mainimportance, or an utility, upon the discovery tained, that it is capable of applications as
and statement of those general laws, which much more extensive and important than
are admitted, in the passage now quoted, to those which have been vulgarly made in past
have been previously exemplified in practice. ages, as are the uses of Newton's third law
Is it any thing else, than their capacity of a of motion, compared with the operation of
more extensive application?-the possibility the savage in pushing his canoe from  the
or facility of employing them to accomplish shore t If Mr. Stewart really entertained any
many things to which they had not been pre- such opinion as this, it was incumbent upon
viously thought applicable? If Newton's third him to have indicated. in a general way, the
law of motion could never have been em- departments in wlichhe conceived that these
ployed for. any other purpose than to set afloat great discoveries were to be made; and to
the canoe of the savage-or if the discovery have pointed out some, at least, of the new
of thepressure of the atmosphere had led to applications, on the assumption of which
nothing more than an explanation of the alone he could justify so ambitious a paraloperation of sucking-would there have been lel.*  Instead of this, however, we do not
any thing gained by stating that law, or that find that he has contemplated any other
discovery, in general and abstract terms? spheres for the application of this principle,
Would there have been any utility, any dignity than those which have been so long conceded
or real advancement of knowledge, in the mere to it-the formation of taste, and the conduct
technical arrangement of these limited and fa- of education: and, with regard to the last and
miliar phenomena under a new classification? most important of these he has himself reThe:re can be but one answer to these in- corded an admission, which to us, we will
terrogitories. But we humbly conceive, that confess, appears a full justification of all that
all the laws of mental operation which phi- we have now been advancing, and a suffilosophy may collect and digest, are exactly cient answer to the positions we have been
in this last predicament. They have no ap- endeavouring to combat. " In so far," Mr.
plication to any other phenomena than the Stewart observes, "as education is effectual
particular ones by which they are suggested —  and salutary, it is founded on those princiand which they were familiarly employed to ples of our nature which have forced themproduce. They are not capable of being ex- selves upon general observation, in consetended to any other cases; and all that is quence of the experience of ages."  That
gained by their digestion into a system, is a the principle of association is to be reckoned
more precise and methodical enumeration of in the number of these, Mr. Stewart certainly
truths that were always notorious.        will not deny; and our proposition is, that all
From the experience and consciousness of the principles of our nature which are caall men, in all ages, we learn that, when two pable of any useful application, have thus
or more objects are frequently presented to- "forced themselves on general observation "
gether, the mind passes spontaneously from  many centuries ago, and can now receive
one to the other, and invests both with some- little more than a technical nomenclature and
thing of the colouring which belongs to the description from the best efforts of philosophy.
most important. This is the law of associa-   The sentiments to which we have ventured
tion; which is known to every savage, and to give expression in these and our former
to every clown, in a thousand familiar in- hasty observations, were suggested to us, we
stances: and, with regard to its capacity of will confess, in a great degree, by the striking
useful application, it seems to be admitted, contrast between the wonders which have
that it has been known and acted upon by been wrought by the cultivation of modern
parents, pedagogues, priests, and legislators, in Physics, and the absolute nothingness of the
all ages of the world; and has even been em- effects that have hitherto been produced by
ployed, as an obvious and easy instrument, by the labours of the philosophers of mind. We
such humble judges of intellectual resources, have only to mention the names of Astronoas common horse-jockies and bear-dancers.   my, Chemistry, Mechanics, Optics, and NaviIf this principle, then. was always known, gation;-nay, we have only to look around us,
and regularly employed wherever any advan- in public or in private, —to cast a glance on
tage could be expected from its employment, the machines and manufactures, the ships,
what reason have we to imagine, that any observatories, steam engines, and elaboratoe
substantial benefit is to be derived from its ries, by which we are perpetually surrounded,
scientific investigation, or any important uses -or to turn our eyes on the most common
hereafter discovered for it, in consequence
merely of investing it with a precise name,   * Upwards of thirty years have now elapsed
and stating, under one general theorem, the since this was written; during which a taste for
common law of its operation? If such per- metaphysical inquiry has revived in France, and
sons as grooms and masters of menageries been greatly encouraged in Germany. Yet I am
have been guided, by their low intellects and not aware to what useful applications of the science
have been guided, by their low intellects and its votaries can yet point; or what practical improvesordid motives, to its skilful application as a ment or inres  of human yet   power they can trace t
means of directing even the lower animals, its cultivation.




STEWART'S PHILOSOPHICAL ESSAYS.                         511
articles of our dress and furniture,-on the accomplished, by an instrument which has
mirrors, engravings, books. fire-arms, watches, hitherto effected so little? It is in vain for
barometers, thunder-rods and opera-glasses,  Ir. Stewart to say, that the science is yet but
that present themselves in our ordinary dwell- in its infancy, and that it will bear its fruit in
ings, to feel how vast a progress has been due season. The truth is, that it has, of nemade in exploring and subduing the physical cessity, been more constantly and diligently
elements of nature, and how stupendous an cultivated than any other. It has always
increase the power of man has received, by been the first object with men of talent and
the experimental investigation of her laws. good affections, to influence and to form the
Now is any thing in this astonishing survey minds of others, and to train their own to the
more remarkable, than the feeling with which highest pitch of vigour and perfection: and
it is always accompanied, that what we have accordingly, it is admitted by Mr. Stewart,
hitherto done in any of these departments is that the most important principles of this phibut a small part of what we are yet destined losophy have been long ago " forced upon
to accomplish; and that the inquiries which general observation" by the feelings and exhave led us so far, will infallibly carry us still perience of past ages. Independently, howfarther. When we ask, however, for the tro- ever, of this, the years that have passed since
phies of the philosophy of mind, or inquire for Hobbes, and Locke, and Malebranche, and
the vestiges of her progress in the more plastic Leibnitz drew the attention of Europe to this
and susceptible elements of human genius study, and the very extraordinary genius and
and character, we are answered only by in- talents of those who have since addicted themgenuous silence, or vague anticipations-and selves to it, are far more than enough to have
find nothing but a blank in the record of her brought it, if not to perfection, at least to such
actual achievements. The knowledge and a degree of excellence, as no longer to leave
the power of man over inanimate nature has it a matter of dispute, whether it was really
been increased tenfold in the course of the destined to add to our knowledge and our
last two centuries. The knowledge and the power, or to produce any sensible effects upon
power of man over the mind of man remains the happiness and condition of mankind.
almost exactly where it was at the first de- That society has made great advances in comvelopment of his faculties. The natural phi- fort and intelligence, during that period, is
losophy of antiquity is mere childishness and indisputable; but we do not find that Mr.
dotage, and their physical inquirers are mere Stewart himself imputes any great part of this
pigmies and drivellers, compared with their improvement to our increased knowledge of
successors in the present age; but their logi- our mental constitution; and indeed it is quite
cians, and metaphysicians, and moralists, and, obvious, that it is an effect resulting from the
what is of infinitely more consequence, the increase of political freedom-the influences
practical maxims and the actual effects result- of reformed Christianity — the invention of
ing from their philosophy of mind, are very printing-and that improvement and multiplinearly on a level with the philosophy of the cation of the mechanical arts, that have renpresent day. The end and aim of all that dered the body of the people far more busy,
philosophy is to make education rational and wealthy, inventive and independent, than they
effective, and to train men to such sagacity ever were in any former period of society.
and force of judgment, as to induce them to   To us, therefore, it certainly does appear,
cast off the bondage of prejudices, and to fol- that the lofty estimate which Mr. Stewart has
low happiness and virtue with assured and again made of the practical importance of his
steady steps. We do not know, however, favourite studies, is one of those splendid viwhat modern work contains juster, or more sions by which men of genius have been so
profound views on the subject of education, often misled, in the enthusiastic pursuit of
than may be collected from the writings of science and of virtue. That these studies are
Xenophon and Quintilian, Polybius, Plutarch, of a very dignified and interesting nature, we
and Cicero: and, as to that sagacity and just- admit most cheerfully — that they exercise
ness of thinking, which, after all, is the fruit and delight the understanding, by reasonings
by which this tree of knowledge must be ulti- and inquiries, at once subtle, cautious, and
mately known, we are not aware of many profound, and either gratify or exalt a keen
modern performances that exemplify it in a and aspiring curiosity, must be acknowledged
stronger degree, than many parts of the his- by all who have been initiated into their eletories of Tacitus and Thucvdides, or the Satires ments. Those who have had the good fortune
and Epistles of Horace. In the conduct of to be so initiated by the writings of Mr. Stewbusiness and affairs, we shall find Pericles, art, will be delighted to add, that they are
and Cesar, and Cicero, but little inferior to the blended with so many lessons of gentle and of
philosophical politicians of the present day; ennobling virtue-so many striking precepts
and, for lofty and solid principles of practi- and bright examples of liberality, high-mindedcal ethics, we might safely match Epictetus ness, and pure taste-as to be calculated, in an
and Antoninus (without mentioning Aristotle, eminent degree, to make men love goodness
Plato, Plutarch, Xenophon, or Polybius,) with and aspire to elegance, and to improve at once
most of our modern speculators.          the understanding, the imagination, and the
Where, then, it may be asked, are the per- heart. But this must be the limit of our praise.
formances of this philosophy, which makes
suchlarge promises  or, what are the grounds   The sequel of this article is not now re,
upon which we should expect to see so much printed, for the reasons already stated.




NOVELS, TALES,
AND
PROSE WORKS OF FICTION,
As I perceive I have, in some of the following papers; made a sort of apology for week
Ing to direct the attention of my readers to things so insignificant as Novels, it may be worth
while to inform the present generation that, in my youth, writings of this sort were rated
very low with us-scarcely allowed indeed to pass as part of a nation's permanent literature
-and generally deemed altogether unworthy of any grave critical notice.  Nor, in truth-.
in spite of Cervantes and Le Sage-and Marivaux, Rousseau, and Voltaire abroad-and even
our own Richardson and Fielding at home-would it have been easy to controvert that opinion, in our England, at the time: For certainly a greater mass of trash and rubbish never
disgraced the press of any country, than the ordinary Novels that filled and supported our
circulating libraries, down nearly to the time of Miss Edgeworth's first appearance. There
had been, the Vicar of Wakefield, to be sure, before; and Miss Burney's Evelina and Cecilia
-and Mackenzie's Man of Feeling, and some bolder and more varied fictions of the Misses
Lee. But the staple of our Novel market was, beyond imagination, despicable: and had
consequently sunk and degraded the whole department of literature, of which it had usurped
the name.
All this, however, has since been signally, and happily, changed; and that rabble rout
of abominations driven from our confines for ever. The Novels of Sir Walter Scott are, beyond
all question, the most remarkable productions of the present age; and have made a sensa.
tion, and produced an effect; all over Europe, to which nothing parallel can be mentioned
since the dlays of Rousseau and Voltaire; while, in our own country, they have attained a
place, inferior only to that which must be filled for ever by the unapproachable glory of
Shakespeare. With the help, no doubt, of their political revolutions, they have produced,
in France, Victor Hugo, Balsac, Paul de Cocq, &c., the promessi sposi in Italy-and Cooper,
at least, in America.-In England, also, they have had imitators enough; in the persons of
Mr. James, Mr. Lover, and others. But the works most akin to them in excellence have
rather, I think, been related as collaterals than as descendants. Miss Edgeworth, indeed,
stands more in the line of their ancestry; and I take Miss Austen and Sir E. L. Bulwver to
be as intrinsically original; —as well as the great German writers; Goethe; Tiek, Jean Paul,
Richter, &c. Among them, however, the honour of this branch of literature'has at any rate
been splendidly redeemed — and now bids fair to maintain its place, at the head of all that
is graceful and instructive in the productions of'modern genius.
(38u9,  1809.)
Tales of Fashionable Life. By Miss ErGEwORTH, Author of "Practical Education "
"Belinda', "Castle Rackrent" &c. 12mo. 3 vols. London: 1809.
IF it were possible for reviewers to Envy any other writer, male or female, of her gene.
the authors who are brought before them for ration. Other arts and sciences have their
judgment, we rather think we should be use, no doubt; and, Heaven knows, they have
tempted to envy Miss Edgeworth; — not, their reward and their fame. But the great
however, so much for her matchless powers art is the art of living; and the chief science
of probable invention-her never-failing good the science of being happy. Where there is
sense and cheerfulness-nor her fine discrimi- an absolute deficiency of good sense, these
nation of characters-as for the delightful cannot indeed be taught; and, with an extraronscicusness of halting done more good than ordinary share of it, they may be acquired
512




MISS EDGEWORTH'S TALES OF FASHIONABLE LIFE.                          S;3
without an instructor: but the most common    There are two great sources of unhappiness
case is, to be capable of learning; and yet to to those whom fortune and nature seem to
require teaching; and a far greater part of have placed above the reach of ordinary
the misery which exists in society arises from  miseries. The one is cmnti —that stagllation]'
ignorance, than either from vice or from inca- of life and feeling which results from the ab.
pacit..                                  sence of all motives to exertion; and by
Miss Edgeworth is the great modern mis- which the justice of providence has so fully
tress in this school of true philosophy; and compensated the partiality of fortune, that it
has eclipsed, we think, the fame of all her may be fairly doubted whether, upon the
predecessors.  By her many exclent tracts whole, the race of beggars is not happier
on education, she has, conferred a benefit on than the race of lords; and whether those
the whole mass of the population; and dis- vulgar wants that are sometimes so importuctarged, with exemplary patience as well as nate, are not, iil this world, the chief ministers
extraordinary judgment, a task which super- of enjoyment. This is a plague that infects
fidial spirits may perhap.mistake for an hum- all indolent persons who can live on in the
ble and easy one. By her Popular Tales, she rank in which they were born, without the
has rendered an invaluable service to the necessity of working: but, in a free country,
middling and lower orders of the people; and it rarely occurs in any great degree of viruby her Novels, and by the volumes before us, lence, except among those who are already
has made a great and meritorious effort to at the summit of human felicity. Below this,
promote the happiness and respectability of there is room  for ambition, anti envy, and
the higher classes. On a former occasion we emulation, and all the feverish movements r"
believe we hinted to her, that these would aspiring vanity and  unresting  selfishness,'
probably be the least successful of all her which act as prophylactics against this more
labours; and that it -,as doubtful whether dark and deatly distemper. It is the canker
she could be justified for bestowilg so much which corrodes the full-blown flower of hut,
of her time on the case of a few persons, who man felicity-the pestilence which smites at
scarcely deserved to be cured, and Dwere the bright hour of noon.
scarcely capable of being corrected.  The    The other curse of the happy, has a range
foolish and unhappy part of the fashionable more wile and indiscriminate. It) too, torworld, for "he most part, "is not fit to bear tures only the comparatively rich and foritself convinced.:' It is too vain, too busy, tunate; but is most active among the least
and too dissipated to listen to, or remember (listinguiished;  and abates in malignity as we
any thing that is said to it. Every thing seri- ascend to the lofty regions of pure ennui.
ous it repels, by "its dear wit and -ay rheto- This is the desire of being fashionable;-the
ric;" and against every thing poignant, it restless and insatiable passion to pass'for
seeks shelter in the impenetrable armour of creatures a little more distinguished than we
its conjunct audacity.                      really are-with the mortification of frequent
failure and the humiliating consciousness of
" Laugh'd at, it laughs again;-and, stricken hard,  ai re, a   e    ti  cons        o
Turns to the stroke its adamantine scales,    being perpetually exposed to it. Among those
That fear no discipline of human hands."  who are secure of " meat, clothes, and fire,
and are thus above the chief physical evils
A book, on the other hand, and especially a of existence, we do believe that this is a more
witty and popular book, is still a thing of con- prolific source of unhappiness, than guilt, dissequence, to such of the middling classes of  ease, or wounded affection; and that more:ociety as are in the habit of reading.  They positive misery is created, and more true endispute about it, and think of it; and as they  joyment excluded, by the eternal fretting
occasionally make themselves ridiculous by and straining of this pitiftl ambition, than by
copying the manners it displays, so they are all the ravages of passion, the desolations of
apt to be impressed with the great lessons it war, or the accidents of mortality. This may
may be calculated to teach; and, on the whole, appear a strong statement; but we make it
receive it into considerable authority among deliberately, and are deeply convinced of its
the regulators of their lives and opinions.-  truth. The wretchedness which it produces
But a fashionable person has scarcely any may not be so intense; but it is of much
leisuretto read; and none to think of what he longer duration, and spreads over a far wider,
has been reading.(It would be a derogation circle. It is quite dreadful, indeed, to think
from his dignity-o speak of a book in' any what a sweep this pest has taken among tho
terms but those of frivolous derision  and a comforts of our prosperous population. To
strange desertion of his own superidrity, to be thought fashionable-that is, to be though
allow himself to receive, from its perusal, any more opulent and tasteful, and on a footing
impressions which could at all affect his con- of intimacy with a greater number of distin
duct or opinions.,                  guished persons than' they really are, is the
But though, for these reasons, we         great and laborious pursuit of four families,
to think that Miss Edgeworth's fas          ut of five, the members of which are ex
3atients will do less credit to her presc  empted from the necessity oi daily industry
ihan the more numerous classes to          In this pursuit, their time, spirits, and talents
hey might have been directed. we admit are wasted; their tempers, soured; their affeehat her plan of treatment is in the highest tions palsied; and their natural manners and
legree judicious, and her conception of the dispositions altogether sophisticated and lost..
Lisorder most luminous and precise.          These are the giant curses of fashionable
33




514                             WORKS OF FICTION.
life, and Miss Edgeworth has accordingly  which life can be made tolerable to those whft
dedicated her two best tales to the delinea- have nothing to wish for. Born on the very
tion of their symptoms. The history of " Lord pinnacle of human fortune, " he had nothing
Glenthorn" is a fine picture of ennui-that of to do but to sit still and enjoy the barrenness
" Almeria" an instructive representation of of the prospect." He tries travelling, gaming
the miseries of aspirations after fashion. We gluttony, hunting, pugilism, and coach-drivdo not know whether it was a part of the fair ing; but is so pressed down with the load of
writer's design to represent these maladies as life, as to be repeatedly on the eve of suicide.
absolutely incurabie, without a change of He passes over to Ireland, where he receives
condition; but the fact is, that in spite of the a temporal relief, from  the rebellion-and
best dispositions and capacities, and the most from falling in love with a lady of high charpowerful inducements to action, the hero of acter and accomplishments; but the effect of
ennui makes no advances towards amend- these stimulants is speedily expended, and
ment, till he is'deprived of his title and estate! he is in danger of falling into a confirmed
and the victim of fashion is left, at the end of lethargy, when it is fortunately discovered
the tale, pursuing her weary career, with fa- that he has been changed at nurse! and that,
ding hopes and wasted spirits, but with in- instead of being a peer of boundless fortune,
creased anxiety and perseverance. The moral he is the son of a cottager who lives on potause of these narratives, therefore, must consist toes. With great magnanimity, he instantly
in warning us against the first approaches of gives up the fortune to the rightful owner,
evils which can never afterwards be resisted. who has been bred a blacksmith, and takes
These are the great twin scourges of the to the study of the law. At the commenceProsperous: But there are other maladies, of ment of this arduous career, he fortunately
no slight malignity, to which they are pecu- falls in love, for the second time, with the
liarly liable. One of these, arising mainly lady entitled, after the death of the blackfrom want of more worthy occupation, is that smith, to succeed to his former estate. Poverxperpetual use of stratagem and contrivance — ty and love now supply him with irresistible
that little, artful diplomacy of private life, by motives for exertion. He rises in his profeswvhich the simplest and most natural transac- sion; marries the lady of his heart; and in
tions are rendered complicated and difficult, due time returns, an altered man, to the posand the common business of existence made session of his former affluence.
to depend on the success of plots and counter-   Such is the naked outline of a story, more
plots. By the incessant practice of this petty rich in character, incident, and reflection, than
policy, a habit of duplicity and anxiety is in- any English narrative which we can now call
^fallibly generated, wbich is equally fatal to to remembrance:-as rapid and various as
integrity and enjoyment. We gradually come the best tales of Voltaire, and as full of practo look on others with the distrust which we tical good sense and moral pathetic as any of
are conscious of deserving; and are insensibly the other tales of Miss Edgeworth. The Irish
formed to sentiments of the most unamiable characters are inimitable;-not the coarse caselfishness and suspicion. It is needless to ricatures of modern playwrights-but drawn
say, that all these elaborate artifices are worse with a spirit, a delicacy, and a precision, to
than useless to the person who employs them;,which we do not know if there be any paraland that the ingenious plotter is almost always'lel among national delineations. A.s these are
baffled and exposed by the downright honesty tales of fashionable life, we shall present our
of some undesigning competitor. Miss Edge- readers, in the first place, with some traits of
worth, in her tale of " Manceuvring," has given an Irish lady of rank. Lady Geraldine-the
a very complete and most entertaining repre- enchantress whose powerful magic almost
sentation of "- the by-paths and indirect crook'd raised the hero of ennui from his leaden slum.
ways,7 by which these artful and inefficient bers is represented with such exquisite livelipeople generally make their way to disap- ness and completeness of effect, that the
pointment. In the tale, entitled "Madame de reader can scarcely help imagining that he
Fleury," she has given some useful examples has formerly been acquainted with the origiof the ways in which the rich may most ef- nal. Every one, at least we conceive, must
fectually do good to the poor-an operation have known somebody, the recollection of
which, we really believe, fails more frequently whom must convince him that the following
from want of skill than of inclination: And, in description is as true nature as it is creditable'i The Dun, she has drawn a touching and to art:most impressive picture of the wretchedness   "As Lady Geraldine entered, I gave one involunwhich the poor so frequently suffer, from the tary glance of curiosity. I saw a tall, finely-shaped.
unfeeling thoughtlessness which withholds woman,.with the commanding air of a person of
1from them the scanty earnings of their labour. rank: she moved well; not with feminine timidity
Of these tales, " Ennui " is the best and the  ih ease promptitude and decision. She ad
most entertaining-though the leading char-          and a fine complexion, yet no regularity
acerssmewatcariatueThe only thing that struck me as really;acter is somewhat caricatured, and the d-e-         ary, was her indifference when I was in.
nouement is brought about by a discovery           to her. Every body had seemed extremely
which shocks by its needless improbability.        that I should see her ladyship, and that
Lord Glenthorn is bred up, by a false and in- her ladyship should see me; and I was rather surdulgent guardian, as the heir to an immense prised by her unconcerned air. This piqued me,
and fixed my attention. She turned from me, and
English and Irish estate; and, long before he an to c oni th others. Her voice was
of age exhausts almot all the resources by abegan to converse wth others. Her voice was
s of age, exhausts almost all the resources by agreeable, though rather loud: she did not 3peak




MISS EDGEWORTHiS TALES OF FASHIONABLE LIFE.                                515
witn the Irishl accent; but, when I listened ma- Geraldine exclaimed,'That cousin Craiglethorpc
h!ciously, I detected certain Hibernian inflexions-  of mine is scarcely an agreeable man: The awknothing'of the vulgar Irish idiom, but something  wardness of mauvaise-hont might be pitied and parthat was more interrogative, more exclamatory, and doned, even in a nobleman,' continued her ladyship,
perhaps more rhetorical, than the common language'if it really proceeded from humility; but here,
of English ladies, accompanied with infinitely more when I know it is connected with secret and inordianimation of countenance and demonstrative ges- nate arrogance,'tis past all endurance.  As the
ture. This appeared to me peculiar and unusual, but Frenchman said of the Englishman, for whom even
not affected. She was uncommonly eloquent; and his politeness could not find another compliment,
yet, without action, her words were not sufficiently  " II faut avouer que ce Monsieur a un grand talent
rapid to express her ideas. Her manner appeared pour le silence;"'-he holds his tongue till people
foreign, yet it was not quite French. If I had actually believe that he has somothing to say-a
been obliged to decide, I should, however, have mistake they could never fall into if he would but
pronounced it rather more French than English. speak.-It is not timidity; it is all pride. I would
To determine which it was, or whether I had ever pardon his dulness, and even his ignorance; for one,
seen any thing similar, I stood considering her lady- as you say, might be the fault of his nature, and the
ship with more attention than I had ever bestowed  other of his education: but his self-sufficiency is his
on any other woman. The words striking-fasci. own fault; and that I will not, and cannot pardon.
nating-bewitching, occurred to me as I looked at Somebody says, that nature may make a fool, but
her and heard her speak. I resolved to turn my a coxcomb is always of his own making. Now,
eyes away, and shut my ears; for I was positively  my cousin-(as he is my cousin, I may say what I
determined not to like her; I dreaded so much the please of him,)-my cousin Craiglethorpe is a
idea of a second Hymen. I retreated to the farthest solemn coxcomb, who thinks, because his vanity is
window, and looked out very soberly upon a dirty  not talkative and sociable, that it's not vanity.
fish-pond.                                      What a mistake!' "-i. 146-148.
" If she had treated me with tolerable civility at   These other traits of her character are gien,
first, I never should have thought about her. High-    These other traits of her character are given,
born and high-bred, she seenled to consider more on different occasions, by Lord Glenthorn:what she should think of others, than what others
thought of her. Frank, candid, and affable, oet   "At first I had thought her merely superficial,
and intent solely upon her own amusement; but I
opinionated, insolent, and an egotist: her candour  nd intent solely upon h er own  amusement; but I
and affability appeared the effect of a naturally good
temper; her insolence and egotism only that of' a what could have been expected in one who lived so
spoiled child. She seemed to talk of herself purely dissipated a life; a depth of reflection that seemed
to oblige others, as the most interesting possible inconsistent with  the rapidity with which  she
topic of conversation; for such it had always been  thought; and, above all, a degree of generous into her fond mother, who idolized her ladyship as an  ignmpatibleon against meanness and vice, which seemed
only daughter, and the representative of an ancient   compatible with the selfish character of a fine
house. Confident of her talents, conscious of her lady; and which appeared quite incomprehensible to
charms, and secure of her station. Lady Geraldine  the imitating tribe of her fashionable companions."
gave free scope to her high spirits, her fancy, and                                    i. 174.
her turn for ridicule. She looked, spoke, and acted,   "Lady  Geraldine was superior to manceuvning
like a person privileged to think, say, and do, what little arts, and petty stratagems, to attract attention.
she pleased. Her raillery, like the raillery of princes, She would not stoop, even to conquer.  From genwas without fear of retort. She was not ill-natured, temen she seemed to expect attenton as her rght,
yet careless to whom she gave offence, provided as the right of her sex; not to beg, or accept of it
e produced amusement and in this she gav c seldom  as a favour: if it were not paid, she deemed the genshe produced amusement; and in this she seldom
failed; for, in her conversation, there was much of tleman  degraded,  not  herself.  Far from  being
the raciness of Irish wit, and the oddity of Irish mortified by any preference shown to other ladies,
the raciness of Irish wit, and the oddity ofIrish-her countenance betrayed  only a sarcastic sort of
humour. The singularity that struck me most her countenance betrayed only a sarcastic sort of
She certainly preferred frolic. Meiss Bland was her difference and look of haughty absence. I saw that
humble companion; Miss Tracey her butt.  It was
humble companion; Miss Tracey her butt. It was she beheld with disdain the paltry competitions of
one of Lady Geraldine's delights, to humour Miss the young ladies her companions: as her companTracey's rage for imitating the fashions of fine ions, indeed, she hardly seemed to consider them;
people.' Now you shall see SMiss Tracey appear she tolerated their foibles, forgave their envy, and
at the ball to-morrow, in every thing that I have never exerted any superiority, except to show her
sworn to her is fashionable. Nor have I cheated  contempt of vice and meanness."-i. 198, 199.
her in a single article: but the tout ensemble I leave    This may suffice as a specimen of the high
to her better judgment; and you shall see her, I life of the piece; which is more originaland
trust, a perfect monster, formedof every creature's characteristic than that of Belinda-and altobest: Lady Kilrush's feathers, Mrs. Moore's wig,
Mrs. O'Connor's gown, Mrs. Leighton's sleeves, gether as lively and natural. Forthe low life,
and all the necklaces of all the Miss Ormsbys. we do not know if we could extract a more
She has no taste, no judgment; none at all, poor felicitous specimen than  the following dething; but she can imitate as well as those Chinese  scription of the equipage in which Lord Glenpainters, who, in their drawings, give you the flower thorns English and Frenchservant wer comof one plant stuck on the stalk of another, and gar- pelled to follow their master in Ireland.
nished with the leaves of a third.' "'-i. 130-139. pelled to follow their master in Ireland.
This favourite character is afterwards ex-    "From  the inn yard came a hackney chaise, in'hibited in a great variety of dramatic contrasts. a most deplorably crazy state; the body mounted
For example:-                                   up to a prodigious height, on unbending springs,
nodding forwards, one door swinging open, three
"Lord Craiglethorpe was, as Miss Tracey had  blinds up, because they could not be let down,
described him, very stiff, cold, and high. His man- the perch tied in two places, the iron of the wheels
ners were in the extreme of English reserve; and  half off, half loose, wooden pegs for linch-pins, and
his ill-bred show of contempt for the Irish was suf- ropes for harness. The horses were worthy of the
ficient provocation and justification of Lady Geral- harness; wretched little dog-tired creatures, that
dine's ridicule. He was much in awe of his fair looked as if they had been driven to the last gasp,
and witty cousin: and she could easily put him out and as if they had never been rubbed down in their
of countenance, for he was, in his way, extremely  lives; their bones starting through their skin; one
bashful. Once, when he was out of the room, Lady  lame, the other blind; one with a raw back. the




5t16                               WORKS OF FICTION.
3other with a galled breast; one with his neck poking    "'Ah! didn't I compass him cleverly then? Oh
down over his collar, and the other with his head the villain, to be browbating me! I'm too cute for
dragged forward by a bit of a broken bridle, held at him yet. See, there, now, he's come too;'and I'll
arms' length by a man dressed like a mad beggar, be his bail he'll go asy enough wid me. Ogh! he
in half a hat, and half a wig, both awry in opposite has a fine spirit of his own; but it's I that can
directions; a long tattered coat, tied round his waist match him.'Twould be a poor case if a man like
by a hay-rope; the Jagged rents in the skirts of this me couldn't match a horse any way, let alone a
coat showing his bare legs, marbled of many co- mare, which this is, or it never would be so vilours; while something like stockings hung loose cious.' "-i. 68, 69.
about his ankles. The noises he made, by way of
threatening or encouraging his steeds, I pretend    The most delectable personage, however,
not to describe. In an indignant voice I called to in the whole tale, is the ancient Irish nurse
the landlord-' I hope these are not the horses-I Ellinor. The devoted affection, infantine simhope this is not the chaise, intended for my ser- plicity, and strange pathetic eloquence of this
vants.' The innkeeper, and the pauper who was half-savage kind-hearted creature afford Miss
preparing to officiate as postilion, both in the samee, kind-hearted creature, afford Miss
instant exclaimed-' Sorrow better chaise in the Edgeworth occasion for many most original
county!'' Sorrow!' said I-what do you mean and characteristic representations.  We shall
by sorrow?'' That there's no better, plase your scarcely prepossess our English readers in
honour, can be seen. We have two more to be her favour, by giving the description of her
sure —but one has no top, and the other no bottom.
Any way, there's no better can be seen than this cottage.
same.'' And these horses!' cried I-' why this   " It was a wretched looking, low, mud-walled
horse is so lame he can hardly stand.'' Oh, plase cabin. At one end it swas propped by a buttress of
your honour, tho' he can't stand, he'll go fast loose stones, upon which stood a goat reared on his
enough. He has a great deal of the rogue in him, hind legs, to browse on the grass that grew on the
plase your honour. He's always that way at first housetop. A dunghill was before the only window,
setting out.'' And that wretched animal with the at the other end of the house, and close to the door
galled breast!''He's all the better for it, when  was a puddle of the dirtiest of dirty water, in which
once he warms; it's he that will go with the speed ducks were dabbling. At my approach, there came
of light, plase your honour. Sure, is not he Knocke- out of the cabin a pig, a calf, a lamb, a kid, and two
croghery? and didn't I give fifteen guineas for him, geese, all with their legs tied; followed by cocks,
barring the luckpenny, at the fair of Knockecrog- hens, chickens, a dog, a cat, a kitten, a beggarhery, and he rising four year old at the same time?' man, a beggar-woman, with a pipe in her mouth;
"Then seizing his whip and reins in one hand, children innumerable, and a stout girl, with a pitchhe clawed up his stockings with the other: so with  fork in her hand; altogether more than I, looking
one easy step he got into his place, and seated him- down upon the roof as I sat on horseback, and
self, coachman-like, upon a well-worn bar of wood, measuring the superficies with my eye, could have
that served as a coach-box.' Throw me the loan possibly supposed the mansion capable of containing.
of a trusty, Bartly, for a cushion,' said he. A  I asked if Ellinor O'Donoghoe was at home; but
frieze coat was thrown up over the horse's heads. the dog barked, the geese cackled, the turkeys
Paddy caught it.' Where are you, Hosey!' cried  gobbled, and the beggars begged with one accard,
he to a lad in charge of the leaders.' Sure I'm  so loudly, that there was no chance of my being
only rowling a wisp of straw on my leg,' replied  heard. When the girl had at last succeeded in ap.
Hosey.' Throw me up,' added this paragon of peasing them all with her pitchfork, she answered,
postilions, turning to one of the crowd of idle by- that Ellinor O'Donoghoe was at home, but that she
standers.'Arrah, push me up, can't ye' —A  was out with the potatoes; and she ran to fetch her,
man took hold of his knee, and threw him upon the  after calling to the boys, who was within in the room
horse. He was in his seat in a trice. Then cling- smokilg, to come out to his honour. As soon as
ing by the mane of his horse, he scrambled for the they had crouched under the door, and were able
bridle which was under the other horse's feet, to stand upright, they welcomed me with a very
reached it, and, well satisfied with himself, looked good grace, and were proud to see me in the kinground at Paddy, who looked back to the chaise- dom. I asked if they were all Ellinor's sons.' All
door at my angry servants,' secure in the last event entirely,' was the first answer.' Not one but one,'
of things.' In vain the Englishman, in monotonous was the second answer. The third made the other
anger, and the Frenchman in every note of the two intelligible.' Plase your Honour, we are all
gamut, abused Paddy. Necessity and wit were on her sons-in-law, except myself, who am her lawful
Paddy's side. He parried all that was said against son.'' Then you are my foster brother?'' No,
his chaise, his horses, himself, and his country, plase your Honour, it's not me, but my brother,
with invincible comic dexterity; till at last, both  and he's not in it.'' Not in it?'' No, plase your
his adversaries, dumb-founded, clambered into the Honour; becaase he's in the forge up above. Sure
vehicle, where they were instantly shut up in straw  he's the blacksmith, my lard.' And what are you?'
and darkness. Paddy, in a triumphant tone, called' I'm Ody, plase your honour;' the short for Owen,"
to my postilions, bidding them'get on, and not be &c.-i. 94-96.
stopping the way any longer.' " —i. 64, 65.
a  It is impossible, however, for us to select
and began the wheel hors e stopped shortly      any thing that could give our readers even a
and began to kick furiously.              vague idea of the interest, both serious and
"' Never fear,' reiterated Paddy.' I'll engage comic, that is produced by this original char,
I'll be up wid him. Now for it, Knockecroghery! acter, without quoting more of the story than
Oh the rogue, he thinks he has me at a nonplush; we can now  make room  for.  We cannot
but I'll show him the differ.'
"After this brag of war, Paddy whipped, Knock- leave dit  however, without making our acecroghery kicked, and Paddy, seemingly uncon- knowledgments to Miss Edgeworth for the
scious of danger, sat within reach of the kicking handsome way in which she has treated our
horse, twitching up first one of his legs, then the country, and for the judgment as well as
other, and shifting as the animal aimed his hoofs, liberality she has shown in the character of
escaping every time as it were by miracle. With a Mr. Macleod, the proud, sagacious, friendly,
mixture of temerity and presence of mind, which andreserved agentofherhero.  Thereisin.
made us alternately look upon him as a madman
and a hero, he gloried in the danger, secure of suc- finite merit and powers of observation even in
aes, and of the sympathy of the spectators.     her short sketch of his exterior.




MISS EDGEWORTH'S TALES OF FASHIONABLE LIFE.                           517
" He was a hard-featured, strong built, perpen. culcate.'To some readers they may seem to
dicular man, with a remarkable quietness of deport- want the fairy colouring of high fancy and ro.
ment: he spoke with deliberate distinctness, in an mantic tenderness; and it is very true that
accent slightly Scotch; and, in speaking, he made
use of no gesticulation, but held himself surprisingl  they are not poetical ove tales any more than
still. No part of him but his eyes, moved; and they are anecdotes of scandal.  We have
they had an expression of slow, but determined great respect for the admirers of Rousseau and
good sense. He was sparing oflhis words; but the Petrarca; and we have no doubt that Miss
few that he used said much, and went directly to Edgeworth has great respect for them; —but
the  world, both high and low, which she is
But we must now take an abrupt and reluct- labourliltg to men(l, have no sympathy with
ant leave of Miss Ed.geworth.  Thitlking as this respect. They laugh at these things, and
we do, that her writings are, beyotnd all corn- (do not unrIderstatd them; and therefore, the
parison, the most useful of any that have come solid sense which she presses perhaps rather
before us since the commenlcement of our too closely upon them, though it admits of recritical career, it would be a poitt ofconlscience  lief from wit and direct pathos, really could
with us to give them all the notoriety that they not be combirned with the more luxuriant orcan derive from our recommelldatiol, eveni if lnametits of all ardent aind tender imagination.
their execution were in some measure liable lWe say this merely to obviate the oily object
to objection.  In our opinioti, however, they tioin which we think call be made to the exeare as entertaining as they are inlstructive; cutioIt of these stories; and to justify our
and the genius, andt wit, anid imrnrialation they  decided opinionl that they are actually as
display. are at least as remarkable as the just- pcifect as it was possible to make them witk
uess of the sentiments tley so powerfully in- saflety to the great object of the author.
(3'l ~, i   8t.)
Tales of Fashionable Life.   By Miss EGFD:KWORTH, Author of " Practical Education,"
t"Belinda": "Castle RIackrentt, &c. 3 vols.  12mo. pp. 1450. Johnson. London: 1812.
THE writings of Miss Edlgeworth exhibit so and away from real gratification, as powerfully
singular ait untioIt of sober sense aid( iniex- as mere igitoratice or passion. It is to the
haustible invention-so mitlute a ktowledge  correction of those erroneous theories that
of all that distinguishes manttlers. or toucels Miss Edgeworth has applied herself in that
on happiless in every cotllitiotl of hunman for- series of moral fictions, the lIst portion of
tune-and so just all estimate both of the real which has recently come to our hands; and
sources of enjoyment, andl of the illusiolts by  in which, we think, she' has combined more
which they are obstructed, that it callllot be  solid intstruction with more universal enterthought wonderful that we shouldl separate  taitlmelt, all(l given more practical lessons of
her from the ordinary maltufacturers of iovels. Nwisdom, with less tediousness and less preand speak of her Tales as works of more se- tension, than ally other writer with whom we
rious importance than much of the true history  are acquaintetl.
and solemn philosophy that come daily un'dler   When we reviewed the first part of these
our inspection.  The great business of lift  Tales which are devoted to the delineation
and the object of all arts alnd acquisitions, is of fashionable life, we ventured  o express a
undoubtedly to be happy;  and( though our doubt, whether the author was justifiable for
success in this grand endeavour dlepends, in  expendling so large a quantity of her moral
some degree, upon external circumstances, medicines on so small a body of patientsover which we have no control, and still more and upon patients too whom  she had every
on temper and dispositions, which can only be  reason to fear would turn out incurable. Upcontrolled by gradual and systematic exerLion, on reflection, however,'we are now inclined
a very great deal depends also upon creeds to recall this sentiment. The vices and illuanrid opinions, which may be effectually and  sions of fashionable life are, for the most part,
even suddenly rectified, by a few hints from  merely the vices and illusions of human nature
authority that cannot be questioned, or a few  -presented sometimes in'their most conilllatrations so fair and striking, as neither to  spicuous, and almost always in only their
be misapplied nor neglected. We are all, no  most seductive form;-and even where they
doubt, formed, in a great degree, by the cir- are not merely fostered and embellished. but
cumstances in which we are placed, and the  actually generated only in that exalted region,
beings by whom we are surrounded  but still it is very well knowvn that they " drop upon
we have all theories of happiness-notions of the place beneath," and are speedily propaambition, and opinions as to the summum bo- gated and diffused into the world below. To
num of our own-more or lesg developed, and  expose them9 therefore, in this their original
more or less original, according to our situa- and proudest sphere, is not only to purify the
tion and character-but influencing our con- stream at its source, but to counteract their
duct and feelings at every moment of our pernicious influence precisely where it is
lives. and leading us on to disappointment, most formidable and extensive. To point out




518                            WORKS OF FICTION.
the miseries of those infinite and' laborious Edgeworth, however, we think, is not in any
pursuits in which persons who pretend to very imminent danger of being disabled by
be fasionable consume their days, would be this ingenious imputation; since, if we were
but an unprofitable task; while nobody could to select any one of the traits that are mndi.
be found who would admit that they belong- cated by her writings as peculiarly charac.
ed to the class of pretenders; and all that teristic, and peculiarly entitled to praise, we
remained therefore was to show, that the should specify the singular force of judgment
pursuits themselves were preposterous; and and self-denial,.which has enabled her to reinflicted the same miseries upon the unques- sist the temptation of being the most brilliant
tioned leaders of fashion, as upon the hum- and fashionable writer of her day, in order to
blest of their followers. For this task, too, be the most useful and instructive.
Miss Edgeworth possessed certain advantages   The writer who conceived the characters,
of which it would have been equally unnatu- and reported the conversations of Lady Delaral and unfortunate for her readers, if she had cour —Lady Geraldine-and Lady Dashfort
not sought to avail herself.              (to take but these three out of her copious
We have said, that the hints by which we dramatis personce), certainly need not be afraid
may be enabled to correct those errors of of being excelled by any of her contemporaopinion which so frequently derange the whole ries, in that faithful but flattering representascheme of life, must be given by one whose tion of the spoken language of persons of wit
authority is not liable to dispute. Persons of and politeness of the present day-in that
fashion, therefore, and pretenders to fashion, light and graceful tone of raillery and arguwill never derive any considerable benefit ment-and in that gift of sportive but cutting
from all the edifying essays and apologues midisance, which is sure of success in those
that superannuated governesses and precep- circles, where success is supposed to be most
tors may indite for their reformation; —nor difficult, and most desirable. With the ccnfrom the volumes of sermons which learned sciousness of such rare qualifications, we do
divines may put forth for the amendment of think it required no ordinary degree of fortithe age;-nor the ingenious discourses which tude to withstand the temptation of being the
philosophers may publish, from the love of flattering delineator of fashionable manners,
fame, money, or mankind. Their feeling as instead of their enlightened corrector; and to
to all such monitors is, that they know nothing prefer the chance of amending the age in
at all about the matter, and have nothing to which she lived, to the certainty of enjoying
do with personages so much above them;-  its applauses. Miss Edgeworth, however, is
and so they laugh at their prosing and pre- entitled to the praise of this magnanimity:
sumption-and throw them aside, with a min- For not only has she abstained from dressing
gled sense of contempt and indignation. Now, any of her favourites in this glittering draper.y,
Miss Edgeworth happens fortunately to be but she has uniformly exhibited it in such a
born in the condition of a lady-familiar from  way as to mark its subordination to the natural
early life with the polite world, and liable to graces it is sometimes allowed to eclipse) and
no suspicion of having become an author from  to point out the defects it still more frequently
any other motives than those she has been conceals. It is a very rare talent, certainly
pleased to assign.                        to be able to delineate both solid virtues and
But it is by no means enough that we should captivating accomplishments with the same
be on a footing, in point of rank, with those force and fidelity;-but it is a still rarer exto whom we are moved to address our instruc- ercise of that talent, to render the former both
tions. It is necessary that we should also more amiable and more attractive than the lathave some relish for the pleasures we accuse ter-and, without depriving wit and vivacity
them of overrating, and some pretensions to of any of their advantages, to win not only
the glory we ask them to despise. If a man, our affections, but our admiration away from
without stomach or palate, takes it into his them, to the less dazzling qualities of the heart
head to lecture against the pleasures of the and the understanding. By what resources
table-or an old maid against flirtation —or a Miss Edgeworth is enabled to perform this
miser against extravagance, they may say as feat, we leave our readers to discover, from
many wise and just things as they please- the perusal of her writings;-of which it is
but they may be sure that they will either be our present business to present them with a
laughed at, or not listened to; and that all slender account, and a scanty sample.
their dissuasives will be set down to the score   These three new volumes contain but three
of mere ignorance or envy. In the same way, stories; —the first filling exactly a volume, the
a man or woman who is obviously without second half a volume, and the last no less
talents to shine or please in fashionable life, than a volume and a half. The first, which
may utter any quantity of striking truths as is entitled "Vivian," is intended to show not
to its folly or unsatisfactoriness, without ever only into what absurdities, but into what guilt
commanding the attention of one of its vota- and wretchedness, a person, otherways estiries. The inference is so ready, and so con- mable, may be brought by that " infirmity of
solatory-that all those wise reflections are purpose" which renders him  incapable of
the fruit of disappointment and mortification resisting the solicitations of others,-of saying
-that they want to reduce all the world to No, in short, on proper occasions. The moral,
their own dull level-and to deprive others perhaps, is brought a little too constantly forof gratifications which they are themselves ward; and a little more exaggeration is ad.
incapable of tasting. The judgment of Miss mitted into the construction of the story, than




MISS EDGEWORTH'S;  AtLES OF FASHIONABLE LIFE.                       a1l
Miss Edgeworth generally employs; —but it wit, and kind-heartedness of the lower Irish;
is full of characters and incidents and good and makes an acquaintance at the latter with
sense, like all her other productions.*    one group of Catholic cottagers, more interBut we pass at once to the last, the longest, esting, and more beautifully painted, in the
and by far the most interesting of these tales. simple colouring of nature, than all the ArcaIt is entitled, "The Absentee " and is in- diansof pastoral or romance. After detecting
tended to expose the folly and misery of re- the frauds and villany of the tyrannical agent,
nouncing the respectable character of country he hurries back to London. to tell his story to
ladies and gentlemen, to push, through in- his father; and arrives just in time to hinder
tolerable expense, and more intolerable scorn, him from being irretrievably entangled in his
into the outer circles of fashion in London. snares. He and Miss Nugent now make joint
That the case may be sufficiently striking, suit to Lady Clonbrony to retire for a while
Miss Edgeworth has taken her example in an to Ireland, —an application in which they are
Irish family, of large fortune, and consider- powerfully seconded by the terrors of an exeable rank in the peerage; and has enriched cution in the house; and at last enabled to
her main story with a greater variety of col- succeed, by a solemn promise that the yel4ow
lateral incidents and characters, than in any damask furniture of the great drawing-room
of her other productions.                  shall be burnt on the very day of their arrival.
Lord and Lady Clonbrony are the absentees; In the mean time, Lord Colambre, whose
-and they are so, because Lady Clonbrony wider survey of the female world had finally
is smitten with the ambition of making a determined him to seek happiness with Grace
figure in the fashionable circles of London;-  Nugent, even with an humble fortune, suffers
where her very eagerness obstructs her suc- great agony, from  a discovery maliciously
cess; and her inward shame, and affected made by Lady Dashfort, of a stain on her
contempt for her native country, only make mother's reputation; which he is enabled at
her national accent, and all her other nation- length to remove, and at the same time to realities more remarkable. She has a niece, cover a splendid inheritance, which had been
however, a Miss Grace Nugent, who is full long withheld by its prevalence. from the wo.
of gentleness, and talent, and love for Ireland man of his choice. This last event, of course,
-and a son, Lord Colambre, who, though reconciles all parties to the match; and they
educated in England, has very much of his all set out, in bliss and harmony, to the paracousin's propensities. The first part of the dise regained, of Clonbrony;-their arrival
story represents the various mortifications and and reception at which is inimitably described
repulses which Lady Clonbrony encounters; in a letter from one of their postilions, with
in her grand attempt to be very fashionable which the tale is concluded.
in London-the embarrassments, and gradual   In this very brief abstract, we have left out
declension into low company, of Lord Clon- an infinite multitude of the characters and
brony-their plots to marry Lord Colambre to occurrences, from the variety and profusion
an heiress-and the growth of his attachment of which the story derives its principal attrac
to Miss Nugent, who cordially shares both in tion; and have only attempted indeed to give
his regret for the ridicule which his mother is such a general notice of the relations and
at so much expense to excite, and his wish to proceedings of the chief agents, as to render
snatch her from a career at once so inglorious the few extracts we propose to make intelliand so full of peril. Partly to avoid his moth- gible. The contrivance of the story indeed is
er's importunities about the heiress, and partly so good, and the different parts of it so conto escape from the fascinations of Miss Nugent, cisely represented, that we could not give an
whose want of fortune and high sense of duty adequate epitome of it in much less compass
seem to forbid all hopes of their union, he sets than the original. We can venture on nothing,
out on a visit to Ireland; where the chief in- therefore, but a few  detached -specimens:
terest of the story begins. There are here And we take the first from a class of society,
many admirable delineations of Irish charac- which we should scarcely have thought charter, in both extremes of life; and a very natu- acteristic of the country in question: we mean
ral development of all its most remarkable the Fine ladies of the Plebeian order, who
features. At first, his Lordship is very nearly dash more extravagantly, it seems, in Dublin,
entangled in the spells of Lady Dashfort and than any other place in this free and comher daughter; and is led by their arts to form  mercial empire.  Lord Colambre had the
rather an unfavourable opinion of his country- good fortune to form an acquaintance with
men. An accidental circumstance, however, one of these, the spouse of a rich grocer,
disclosing the artful and unprincipled charac- who invited him to dine with her at her villa,
ter of these fair ladies, he breaks from his on his way back from the county of Wickbondage, and travels incog. to his father's two low. The description, though of a different
estates of Colambre and Clonbrony;- the character from  most of Miss Edgeworth's
one flourishing under the management of a delineations, is so picturesque and lively, that,
conscientious and active agent; the other we cannot help thinking it must have beer,
going to ruin under the dominion of an un- taken from the life. We are tempted, therta
principled oppressor. In both places, he sees fore, to give it at full length.
a great deal of the. native politeness, native
"After a charming tour in the county of Wick
* I now omit the original account of the two first low, where the beauty of the natural scenery, and
tales; and give only what relates to the last,-and the taste with which those natural beauties have
most interesting, and characteristic.      been cultivated, far surpassed the sanguine expect.




520                                WORKS OF FICTION.
ations Lord Colamb-e had formed, his Lordship a stick. But where will I get your honour's hand 1
and his companions arrived at Tusculum; where fobr it's coming on so dark, I can't see rightly.he found Mrs. Raffarty, and Miss Juliana O'Leary, There! you're up now safe. Yonder candle's the
-very elegant-with a large party of the ladies and  house.'' Well, go and ask whether they can give
gentlemen of Bray assembled illn a drawing-room, us a night's lodging.'' Is it ask? When I see the
fine with bad pictures and gaudy gilding; the win- light!-Sure they'd be proud to give the traveller
dows were all shut, and the company were playing all the beds in the house, let alone one. Take care
cards, with all their might. This was the fashion  of the potatoe furrows, that's all, and follow me
of the neighbourhood. In compliment to Lord  straight. I'll go on to meet the dog, who knows
Colambre and the officers, the ladies left the card- me, and might be strange to your honour.'
tables; and Mrs. Raffarty, observing that his Lord-   "'Kindly welcome!' were the first words Lord
ship seemed partial to walking, took him out, as Colambre heard when he approached the cottage;
she said,'to do the honours of nature and art.'    and' kindly welcome' was in the sound of the
"'The dinner had two great faults-profusion and voice, and in the countenance of the old woman,
pretension. There was, in fact ten times more on who came out shading her rush candle from the
the table than was necessary; and the entertain- wind, and holding it so as td light the path. When
ment was fai above the circumstances of the person  he entered the cottage, he saw a cheerful fire. and a
by whom it was given: for instance, the dish of neat pretty young woman making it blaze: she
fish at the head of the table had been brought across curtsied, put her spinning wheel out of the way,
the island from  Sligo, and had cost five guineas; set a stool by the fire for the stranger; and repeatas the lady of the house failed not to make known. ing in a very low tone of voice,' Kindly welcome,
But, after all, things were not of a piece: there sir,' retired.' Put down some eggs, dear, there's
was a disparity between the entertainment and the plenty in the bowl,' said the old woman, calling to
attendants; there was no proportion or fitness of her;' I'll do the bacon. Was not we lucky to be
things.  A painful endeavour at what could not be up?-The boy's gone to bed, but waken him,' said
attained, and a toiling in vain to conceal and repair she, turning to the postilion;'and he will help you
deficiencies and blunders. Had the mistress of the with the chay, and put your horses in the bier for
house been quiet; had she, as Mrs. Broadhurst the night.'"
would say, but let things alone, let things take their   " No: Larry chose to go on to Clonbrony with
course; all would have passed off with well-bred  the horses, that he might get the chaise mended
people: but she was incessantly apologising, and betimes for his honour. The table was set; clean
fussing and fretting inwardly and outwardly, and  trenchers, hot potatoes, milk, eggs, bacon, and
directing and calling to her servants-striving to'kindly welcome to all.'' Set the salt, dear; and
make a butler who was deaf, and a boy who was the butter, love; where's your head, Grace, dear?'
hair-brained, do the business of five accomplished'Grace!' repeated Lord Colambre, looking up;
footmen of parts andfigure. Mrs. Raffarty called  and to apologise for his involuntary exclamation he'Larry! Larry! My Lord's plate there!-James! added,'Is Grace a common name in Ireland?'' I
bread, to Captain BIowles!-James! port wine, to can't say, plase your honour, but it was give her by
the Major.-James! James Kenny! James!' And  Lady Clonbrony, from a niece of her own that was
panting James toiled after her in vain. At length  her foster-sister, God bless her; and a very kind
one course was fairly got through; and after a tor- lady she was to us and to all when she was living in
turing half hour, the second course appeared, and it; but those times are gone past,' said the old
James Kenny was intent upon one thing, and Lar- woman, with a sigh. The young woman sighed
ry upon another, so that the wine sauce for the hare too; and sitting down by the fire, began to count
was spilt by their collision; but what was worse, the notches in a little bit of stick, which she held in
there seemed little chance that the whole of this her hand; and after she had counted them, sighed
second course should ever be placed altogether again.' But don't be sighing, Grace, now,' said
rightly upon the table. Mrs. Raffarty cleared her the old woman;'sighs is bad sauce for the travelthroat and nodded, and pointed, and sighed, and  ler's supper; and we won't be troubling him with
set Larry after Kenny, and Kenny after Larry; for more,' added she, turning to Lord Colambre, with
what one did, the other undid'; but at last, the a smile-' Is your egg done to your liking?''Perlady's anger kindled, and she spoke!-' Kenny! fectly, thank you.''Then I wish it was a chicken
James Kenny, set the sea-cale at this corner, and  for your sake, which it should have been, and roast
put down the grass, cross-corners; and match your too, had we time. I wish I could see you eat anmaccaroni yonder with them puddens, set-Ogh! other egg.'  No more, thank you, my good lady;
James! the pyramid in the middle can't ye.' The  I never ate a better supper, nor received a more
pyramid in changing places was overturned. Then  hospitable welcome.'' (, the welcome is all we
it was, that the mistress of the feast, falling back  have to offer.'
in her seat, and lifting up her hands and eyes in    "' May I ask what that is?' said Lord Colambre,
despair, ejaculated:' Oh, James! James!'-The  looking at the notched stick, which the young wopyramid was raised by the assistance of the mili- man held in her hand, and on which her eyes were
tary engineers, and stood trembling again on its still fixed.'It's a tally, plase your honour honour.-O
base; but the lady's temper could not be so easily  you're a foreigner-It's the way the labourer keeps
restored to its equilibrium."-pp. 25-28.        the account of the day's work with the overseer,
And there's been a mistake, and is a dispute here
We hurry forward now to the cottage scene  between our boy and the overseer; and she was
at Clonbrony; which has made us almost counting the boy's tally, that's in bed, tired, for in
equally in love with the Irish, and with the  troth he's over-worked.''Would you want any
writer who has painted them with such truth, thing more from me, mother,' said the girl, rising.  and turning her head away.' No, child; get away,
pathos, and simplicity. An ingenious and for your heart's ftll' She went instantly.'Is,;good-natured postboy overturns his Lordship  the boy her brother?' said Lord Colambre.'No':
in the night, a few  miles from  Clonbrony; he's her bachelor,' said the old woman, lowering
and then says,                                  her voice.'Her bachelor?''That is, her sweetheart: for she is not my daughter, though you heard
"'If your honour will lend me your hand till I her call me mother. The boy's my son; but I am
pull you up the back of the ditch, the horses will afeard they must give it up; for they're too poor,
stand while we go. I'll find you as pretty a lodging and the times is hard-and the agent's harder than
for the night, with a widow of a brother of my shis. the times! There's two of them, the under and
ter's husband that was, as ever you slept in your life; the upper; and they grind the substance of one
and your honour will be, no compare, snugger than between them, and then blow one away like chaff:
toe inn at Clonbrony, which has no roof, the devil but we'll not be talking of that, to spoil your hon.




MISS EDGEWORTH'S TALES OF FASHIONABLE LIFE.                                52
our's night's rest. The room's ready, and here's  prevent her pursuing her observations from the hand
the rush light.' She showed him into a very small, to the face, wk. zh might have betrayed more than
but neat room.' What a comfortable looking bed,' Lord Colambr,. wished she should know, her own
said Lord Colambre.'Ah, these red check cur- Grace came in at this instant-' There, it's for you
rains,' said she, letting them  down;'these have safe, mother dear-the lase!' said Grace, throwing
lasted well; they were give me by a good friend  a packet into her lap. The old woman lifted up her
now far away, over the seas, my Lady Clonbrony; hands to heaven with the lease between themand made by the prettiest hands ever you see, her' Thanks be to Heaven!' Grace passed on, and
neice's, Miss Grace Nugent's, and she a little child  sunk down on the first seat she could reach. Her
that time; sweet love! all gone!' The old woman  face flushed, and, looking much fatigued, she looswiped a tear from her eye, and Lord Colambre did ened the strings of her bonnet and cloak.-' Then,
what he could to appear indifferent. She set down  I'm tired!' but recollecting herself;, she rose, and
the candle and left the room; Lord Colambre went curtsied to the gentleman.-' What tired ye, dear?'
to bed, but he lay awake,'revolving sweet and -' Why, after prayers, we had to go —for the agent
bitter thoughts.'                               was not at prayers, nor at home for us, when we
"The kettle was on the fire, tea things set, called-we had to go all the way up to the castle;
every thing prepared for her guest, by the hospita- and there by great good luck, we found Mr. Nick
ble hostess, who, thinking the gentleman would  Garraghty himself, come from Dublin, and the lase
take tea to his breakfast, had sent off a gossoon by  in his hands; and he sealed it up that way, and
the first light to Clonbrony, for an ounce of tea, a handed it to me very civil. I never saw him so
quarter of sugar, and a loaf of white bread; and  good - though he offered me a glass of spirits,
there was on the little table good cream, milk, which was not manners to a decent young woman,
butter, eggs-all the promise of an excellent break- in a morning-as Brian noticed after.'-' But why
fast. It was afresh morning, and there was a plea- didn't Brian come home all the way with you,
sant fire on the hearth neatly swept up. The old  Grace?'-' He would have seen me home,' said
woman was sitting in her chimney corner, behind a Grace,'only that he went up a piece of the mounlittle skreen of white-washed wall, built out into  tain fbr some stones or ore for the gentleman,-for
the room, for the purpose of keeping those who sat he had the manners to think of him this morning,
at the fire from the blast of the door. There was a though shame for me, I had not, when I came in,
loop-hole in this wall, to let the light in, just at the or I would not have told you all this, and he himself
height of a person's head, who was sitting near the by. See, there he is, mother.'-Brian came in very
chimney. Th'le rays of the morning sun now came  hot, out of breath, with his hat full of stones.'Good
through it, shining across the face of the old woman, morrow to your honour. I was in bed last night;
as she sat knitting; Lord Colambre thought he had  and sorry they did not call me up to be of sarvice.
seldom seen a more agreeable countenance; intelli- Larry was telling us, this morning, your honour's
gent eyes, benevolent smile, a natural expression  from Wales, and looking for mines in Ireland, and
of cheerfulness, subdued by age and misfortune. I heard talk that there was one on our mountain-'A  good morrow to you kindly, sir, and I hope  may be, you'd be curious to see; and so, I brought
you got the night well?-A  fine day fobr us this the best I could, but I'm no judge.'"
Sunday morning; my Grace is gone to early prayers,                       Vol. vi. pp. 182-188.
so your honour will lbe content with an old woman
to make your breakfast.-O, let me put in plenty,    A scene of villainy now begins to disclose
or it will never be good; and if your honour takes itself, as the experienced reader mast have
stirabout, an old hand will engage to make that to anticipated.  The pencil writing is rubbed
your liking any way, for by great happiness we have out: but the agent promises, that if they pay
what will just answer for you, of the nicest meal,             some, with their
the niiller made my Grace a compliment of, last up their arrears, and be handsore, with their
time she went to the mill.' "-pp. 171-179.      sealing money and glove money, &c. he will
grant a renewal.  To obtain the rent, the
In the course of conversation, she informs widow is obliged to sell her cow.-But she
her guest of the precarious tenure on which  shall tell her story in her own words.
she held the little possession that formed her
only means of subsistence.                        "' Well, still it was but paper we got for the cow;
then that must be gold before the agent would take,
"' The good lord hiniself granted us the lase; or touch it-so I was laying out to sell the dresser,
the life's dropped, and the years is out: but we and had taken the plates and cups, and little things
had a promise of renewal in writing from the land- off it, and my boy was lifting it out with Andy the
tord.-God bless him! if he was not away, he'd  carpenter, that was agreeing for it, when in comes
oe a good gentleman, and we'd be happy and safe.' Grace, all rosy, and out of breath —it's a wonder I'But if you have a promise in writing of a renewal, minded her run out, and not missed her-Mother,
surely, you are safe, whether your landlord is absent says she, here's the gold for you, don't be stirring
or prese nt.'-' Ah, no! that makes a great differ, your dresser.-And where's your own gown and
when there's no eye or hand over the agent.-Yet, cloak, Grace? says I. But, I beg your pardon,
indeed, there,' added she, after a pause,'as you  sir; may be I'm tiring you?'-Lord Colambre en-'ay, I think we are safe; for we have that memo- couraged her to go on.-' Where's your gown and
randum in writing, with a pencil, under his own  cloak, Grace, says I.'-' Gone.' says she.' The
hand, on the back of the lase, to-me, by the same cloak was too warm and heavy, and I don't doubt,
token when my good lord had his foot on the step  mother, but it was that helped to make me faint
of the coach, going away; and I'll never forget this morning.  And as to the gown, sure I've a
the smile of her that got that good turn done for very nice one here, that you spun for me yourself,
me, Miss Grace. And just when she was going to  mother; and that I prize above all the gowns that
England and London, and young as she was, to ever came out of' a loom; and that Brian said behave the thought to stop and turn to the likes of came me to his fancy above any gown ever he see
me! 0, then, if you could see her, and know her me wear, and what could I wish for more.'-Now,
as I did! That was the comforting angel upon  I'd a mind to scold her for going to sell the gown
earth-look and voice, and heart and all!  O, that unknown'st to me; but I don't know how it was,
she was here present, this minute!-But did you  I couldn't scold her just then,-so kissed her, and
scald yourself?' said the widow to Lord Colambre. Brianl the same; and that was what no man ever
-' Sure, you must have sca:.ed yourself; for you  did before.-And she had a mind to be angry with
poured the kettle straight over your hand, and it him, but could not, nor ought not, says I; for he's
boiling!  O deear! to think of so young a gentle- as good as your husband now, Grace; and no man.nanws hand shaking so like my own. Luckily, to can part yees now, says I, putting their hands to



522                               WORKS OF FICTION.
gether.-Well, I never saw her look so pretty; nor followed them. My lady laning on my young lord,
there was not a happier boy that minute on God's and Miss Grace Nugent that was, the beautifullest
earth than my son, nor a happier mother than my- angel that ever you set eyes on, with the finest
self; and I thanked God that he had given them to complexion and sweetest of smiles, laning upon
me; and down they both fell on their knees for my the old lord's arm, who had, his hat off, bowing to
blessing, little worth as it was; and my heart's all, and noticing the old tenants as he passed by
blessing they had, and I laid my hands upon them. name. 0, there was great gladness, and tears in the'It's the priest you must get to do this for you to- midst; for joy I could scarcely keep from myself.
morrow, says I.' "-Vol. vi. pp. 205-207.          " After a turn or two upon the tirrass, my Lord
Next morning they go up in high spirits to  Colambre quit his mother's arm for a minute, and
he come to the edge of the slope, and looked down
the castle, where the villanous agent denies and through all the crowd for some one.' Is it the
his promise; and is laughing at their despair, widow O'Neill, my lord?' says I;'she's yonder,
when Lord Colambre is fortunately identified  with the spectacles on her nose, betwixt her son
by Mrs. Raffarty, who turns out to be a sister and daughter, as usual.' Then my lord beckoned,
of the said agent, and, like a god in epic and they did not know which of the tree would stir;
and then he gave tree beckons with his own finger,
poetry, turns agony into triumph ~             and they all tree came fast enough to the bottom of
We can make room  for no more now, but the slope, fbrenent my lord; and he went down
the epistle of Larry Brady, the good-natured  and helped the widow up, (O, he's the true jantlepostbty, to his brother, giving an account of man,) and brought'em all tree upon the tirrass, to
the return of the family to Clonbrony.  If  my lady and Miss Nugent; and I was up close
Miss Edgeworth had never written any other after, that I might hear, which wasn't manners,
thingr this one letter must have placed her welt know for I couldn't not get So what he said I don'ugh after
at the very top of our scale, as an observer of all. But I saw my lady smife very kind, and take
character, and a mistress in the simple pa- the widow O'Neill by the hand, and then my Lord
thetic.  We give the greater part of this ex- Colambre'troduced Grace to Miss Nugent, and
traordinary production.                        there was the word namesake, and something about
a check curtains; but whatever it was, they was all
" My dear brother,-Yours of the 16th, enclo- greatly pleased: then my Lord Colambre turned
sing the five pound note for my father, came safe and looked for Brian, who had fell back, and took
to hand Monday last; and, with his thanks and him with some commendation to my lord his father.
blessing to you, he commends it to you herewith  And my lord the master said, which I didn't know
enclosed back again, on account of his being in no till after, that they should have their house and farm
immediate necessity, nor likelihood to want in fu- at the ould rent; and at the surprise, the widow
ture, as you shall hear forthwith; but wants you  dropped down dead; and there was a cry as for ten
over, with all speed, and the note will answer for berrings.' Be qu'ite,' says I,' she's only kilt for
travelling charges; for we can't enjoy the luck it joy;' and I went and lift her up, for her son had
has pleased God to give us, without yees: put the no more strength that minute than the child new
rest in your pocket, and read it when you've time.  born; and Grace trembled like a leaf, as white as
" Now, cock up your ears, Pat! for the great the sheet, but not long, for the mother came to, aid
news is coming, and the good. The master's come was as well as ever when I brought some water,
home-long life to him!-and family come home which Miss Nugent handed to her with her own
yesterday, all entirely!  The ould lord and the hand.
young lord, (ay there's the man, Paddy!) and my    "' That was always pretty and good,' said the
lady, and Miss Nugent. And I driv Miss Nugent's widow, laying her hand upon Miss Nugent,' affd
maid, that maid that was, and another; so I had kind and good to me and mine. That minute there
the luck to be in it alone wid'em, and see all, from  was music from below. The blind harper, O'Neill,
first to last. And first, I must tell you, my young  with his harp, that struck up' Gracey Nugent!'
Lord Colambre remembered and noticed me the And that finished, and my Lord Colambre smiling
minute he lit at our inn, and condescended to with the tears standing in his eyes too, and the ould
beckon at me out of the yard to him, and axed me-  lord quite wiping his, I ran to the tirrass brink to'Friend Larry,' says he,' did you keep your pro. bid O'Neill play it again; but as I run, I thought
mise?'-' My oath again the' whiskey is it?' says I heard a voice call Larry.
I.' My Lord, I surely did,' said I; which was   "' Who calls Larry?' says I.'My Lord Co.
true, as all the country knows I never tasted a drop lambre calls you, Larry,' says all at once; and four
since. And I'm  proud to see your honour, my  takes me by the shoulders, and spins me round.
lord, as good as your word too, and back again'There's my young lord calling you. Larry-run
among us. So then there was a call for the horses; for your life.' So I run back for my life, and walk.
and no more at that time passed betwix' my young  ed respectful, with my hat in my hand, when I got.ord and me, but that he pointed me out to the ould  near.'Put on your hat, my father desires it,'
one, as I went off. I noticed and thanked him for says my Lord Colambre. The ould lord made a
it in my heart, though I did not know all the good  sign to that purpose, but was too full to speak.
was to come of it. Well no more of myself, for'Where's your father?' continues my young lordt
the present.                                   -' lie's very ould, my lord,' says I.-' I didn't ax
" Ogh, it's I driv'em well; and we all got to you how ould he was,' says he;' btt where is he?'
the great gate of the park before sunset, and as -' He's behind the crowd below; on account of
fine an evening as ever you see; with the sun  his infirmities he couldn't walk so fast as the rest,
shining on the tops of the trees, as the ladies no- my lord,' says I;' but his heart is with you, if not
ticed the leaves changed, but not dropped, though  his body.'-' I must have his body too: so bring
so late in the season. I believe the leaves knew  him bodily before us; and this shall be your war
what they were about, and kept on, on purpose to rant for so doing,' said my lord, joking. For he
welcome them; and the birds were singing; and I knows the natur of us, Paddy, and how we love a
stopped whistling, that they might hear them: but joke in our hearts, as well as if he had lived all his
sorrow bit could they hear when they got to the life in Ireland; and by the same token will, for that
park gate, for there was such a crowd, and such a rason, do what he pleases with us, and more may
shout, as you never see-and they had the horses be than a man twice as good, that never would
off every carriage entirely, and drew'em home, with  smile on us.
blessings, through the park. And, God bless'em,   "But I'm  telling you of my father.'I've a
when they got out, they didn't go shut themselves warrant for you, father,' says I;' and must have
up in the great drawing-room, but went straight out you bodily before the justice, and my lord chief
to the tirrass, to satisfy the eyes and hearts that justice.' So he changed colour a bit at first; but




WAVERLEY.                                         523
nfe saw me smile.'Ana I've done'no sin,' said he; I And the drawing-rooms, the butler was telling me,' and, Larry, you may lead me now, as you led me  is new hung; and the chairs, with velvet, as white
all my life.'-And up the slope he went with me, as as snow, and shaded over with natural flowers, by
light as fifteen; and when we got up, my Lord Clon- Miss Nugent.-Oh! how I hope what I guess will
brony said,' I am sorry an old tenant, and a good  come true, and I've rason to believe it will, for I
old tenant, as I hear you were, should have been  dream't in my bed last night, it did. But keep
turned out of your farm.'-' Don't fret, it's no great yourself to yourself-that Miss Nugent (who is no
matter, my lord,' said my father.' I shall be soon  more Miss Nugent, they say, but Miss Reynolds,
out of the way; but if you would be so kind to  and has a new-found grandfather, and is a bid
speak a word for my boy here, and that I could af- heiress, which she did not want in my eyes, nor ill
ford, while the life is in me, to bring my other boy  my young lord's,) I've a notion, will be sometime,
back out of banishment-'                       and may be sooner than is expected, my Lady Vis"' Then,' says my Lord Clonbrony,'I'll give  countess Colambre-so haste to the wedding! And
you and your sons three lives, or thirty-one years, there's another thing: they say the rich ould grandfrom this day, of your former farm. Return to it father's coming over;-and another thing, Pat, you
when you please.'' And,' added my Lord Co. would not be out of the fashion. And you see it's
lambre,' the flaggers, I hope,.will soon be banish- growing the fashion, not to be an Absentee!"
ed.' 0, how could I thank him-notaword could   If there be any of our readers who is not
I proffer-but I know I clasped my two hands and
prayed for him inwardly..And my father was moved with delight and admiration in the
dropping down oh his knees, but the master would  perusal of this letter, we must say, that we
not let him; and obsarved, that posture should only I have but a poor opinion either of his taste or
be for his God! And, sure enough, in that posture, I his moral sensibility; and shall think all the
when he was out of sight, we did pray for him that better of ourselves, in future, for appearing
night, and will all our days.                  tedious in his eyes.  For our own parts, we' But before we quit his presence, he call me
back, and bid me write to my brother, and bring  do not know  whether we envy the author
you back, if you've no objections to your own  most, for the rare talent she has shown in
country.-So come, my dear Pat, and make no  this description, or for the experience by which
delay, for joy's not joy complate till you're in it — its materials have been supplied.  She not
my father sends his blessing, and Peggy her love. only makes us know  and  love the Irish nation
The family entirely is to settle for good in Ireland   only makes us know and love the Irish nation
and tllre was in the castle yard last night a bonfire  far better than any other writer, but seems
made by my lord's orders of the ould yellow da- us more qualified than most others to promote
mask furniture, to plase my lady, my lord says. t the knowledge and the love of mankind.
(X~oember, 18li.)
Waverly, or'Tis Sixty Years Since. In three volumes 12mo. pp. 1112.  Third Edition.
Edinburgh: 1814.*
IT is wonderful what genius and adherence  written-composed, one half of it, in a diato nature will do, in spite of all disadvan- lect unintelligible to four-fifths of the reading
tages. Here is a thing obviously very hastily, population of the country-relating to a period
and, in many places, somewhat unskilfully  too recent to be romantic, and too far gone by
* I have been a good deal at a loss what to do with  reviews; and to retain only the general criticism,
these famous novels of Sir Walter. On the one  and character, or estimate of each performancehand, I could not bring myself to let this collection  together with such incidental observations as may
go forth, without some notice of works which, for have been suggested by the tenor or success of
many years together, had occupied and delighted  these wonderful productions. By this course, no
me more than any thing else that ever came under doubt, a sad shrinking will be effected in the primimy critical survey: W Nhile, on the other, I could  tive dimensions of the articles which are here renot but feel that it would be absurd, and in some  produced; and may probably give to what is re.
sen,se almost dishonest, to fill these pages with long  tained something of a naked and jejune appear.
citations from books which, for the last twenty-five  ance. If it should be so, I can only say that I do
years, have been in the hands of at least fifty times not see how I could have helped it: and after all it
ts many readers as are ever likely to look into this may not be altogether without interest to see, from
publication-and are still as familiar to the genera-  a contemporary record, what were the first imprestion which has last come into existence, as to those  sions produced by the appearance of this new luwho can yet remember the sensation produced by  minary on our horizon; while the secret of the
their first appearance. In point of fact I was in- authorship was yet undivulged, and before the rapid
formed, but the other day, by Mr. Caddell, that he  accumulation of its glories had forced on the dullest
had actually sold not less than sixty thousand  spectator a sense of its magnitude and power. I
volumes of these extraordinary productions, in the  may venture perhaps also to add, that some of the
course of the preceding year! and that the demand  general speculations of which these reviews stgfor them, instead of slackening-had been for some  gested the occasion, may probably be found as well
time sensibly on the increase. In these circum- worth preserving as most of those which have been
stances 1 think I may safely assume that their con- elsewhere embodied in this experimental, and some.
tents are still so perfectly known as not to require  what hazardous, publication.
any citations to introduce such of the remarks orig-.   Though living in familiar intercourse with Sir
inally made on them as I may now wish to repeat. Walter, 1 need scarcely say that I was notr n tne
And I have therefore come to the determination of  secret of his authorship; and in truth had na
omitting almost all the quotations, and most of the  assurance of the fact, till the time of its promuldetailed abstracts which appeared in the original  gation.




52i                             WORKS OF FICTION.
to be familiar-and published;, moreover, in a days of the Heptarchy;-and when they saw
quarter of the island where materials and the array of the West country Whigs. they
talents for novel-writing have been supposed might imagine themselves transported to the
to be equally wanting: And yet, by the mere age of Cromwell. The effect, inaeed, is alforce and truth and vivacity of its colouring, most as startling at the present moment; and
already casting the whole tribe of ordinary no- one great source of the interest which the
vels into the shade, and taking its place rather volumes before us undoubtedly possess. is to
with the most popular of our modern poems, be sought in the surprise that is excited b
than with the rubbish of provincial romances. discovering, that in our own country, and al
The secret of this success, we take it, is most in our own age, manners and characters
merely that the author is a man of Genius; existed, and were conspicuous, which we had
and that he has. notwithstanding, had virtue been accustomed to consider as belonging to
enough to be true to Nature throughout; and remote antiquity or extravagant romance.
to content himself, even in the marvellous   The way in which they are here representparts of his story, with copying from actual ed must satisfy every reader, we think, by an
existences, rather than from  the phantasms inward tact and conviction, that the delineaof his. own imagination. The charm which tion has been made from actual experience
this communicates to all works that deal in and observation; —experience and observation
the representation of human actions and char- employed perhaps only on a few surviving
acter, is more readily felt than understood; relics and specimens of what was familiar a
and operates with unfailing efficacy even upon little.earlier —but generalised from instances
those who have no acquaintance with the sufficiently numerous and complete, to waroriginals from which the picture has been bor- rant all that may have been added to the porrowed. It requires no ordinary talent, indeed, trait:-And, indeed, the existing records and
to choose such realities as may outshine the vestiges of the more extraordinary parts of
bright imaginations of the inventive; and so to the representation are still sufficiently abundcombine them as to produce the most advan- ant, to satisfy all who have the means of contageous effect; but when this is once accom- sulting them, as to the perfect accuracy of the
plished, the result is sure to be something picture. The great traits of Clannish dependmore firm, impressive, and engaging) than can ence, pride, and fidelity, may still be detected
ever be produced by mere fiction.          in many districts of the Highlands, though
The object of the work before us, was evi- they do not now adhere to the chieftains when
dently to present a faithful and animated pie- they mingle in general society; and the exture of the manners and state of society that isting contentions of Burghers and Antiburghprevailed in this northern part of the islarni, in ers, and Cameronians, though shrunk into
the earlier part of last century; and the au- comparative insignificance, and left, indeed,
thor has judiciously fixed upon the era of the without protection to the ridicule.of the proRebellion in 1745, not only as enriching his fane, may still be ieferred to,- as complete
pages with the interest inseparably attached  verifications of all that is here stated about
to the narration of such occurrences, but as Gifted Gilfillanj or Ebenezer Cruickshank.
affording a fair opportunity for bringing out all The traits of Scottish national character in the
the contrasted principles and habits which lower ranks, can still less be regarded as andistinguished the different classes of persons tiquated or traditional; nor is there any thing
who then divided the country, and formed in the whole compass of the work which
among them the basis of almost all that was gives us a stronger impression of the nice obpeculiar in the national character. That un- servation and graphical talent of the author,
fortunate contention brought conspicuously to than the extraordinary fidelity and felicity
light, andl, for the last time, the fading image with which all the inferior agents in the story
of feudal chivalry in the mountains, and vul- are represented. No one who has not lived
gar fanaticism in the plains; and startled the extensively among the lower orders of all demore polished parts of the land with the wild scriptions, and made himself familiar with
but brilliant picture of the devoted valour, in- their various tempers and dialects, can percorruptible fidelity, patriarchal brotherhood, ceive the full merit of those rapid and ctarand savage habits of the Celtic Clans. on the acteristic sketches; but it requires only a
one hand — and the dark, intractable, andl do- general knowledge of human nature, to feel
mineering bigotry of the Covenanters on'the that they must be faithful copies from knows
other. Both aspects of society had indeed originals: and to be aware of the extraordibeen formerly prevalent in. other parts of the nary facility and flexibility of hand which has
country, —but had there been so long super- touched, for instance, with such discriminatseded by more peaceable habits, and milder ing shades, the various gradations of the Celtic
manners, that their vestiges were almost ef- character, from the savage imperturbability
faced, and their very memory nearly extin- of Dugald Mahony) who stalks grimly about
guished.  The feudal principalities had been with his battle-axe on his shoulder, without
destroyed in the South, for near three hundred speaking a word to any one. —to the lively unyears,-and the dominion of the Puritans from  principled activity of Callum Beg, —the coarse
the time of the Restoration. When the glens. unreflecting hardihood and heroism of Evan
and banded clans, of the central Highlands, Maccombich. —and the pride, gallantry, ele.
therefore, were opened up to the gaze of the gance, and ambition of Fergus himself. In
English, in the course of that insurrection, it the lower class of the Lowland characters
seemed as if they were carried back to the again, the vulgarity of Mrs. Flockhart and of




WAVERLEY.                                    526
Lieutenant Jinker is perfectly distinct and barbarous but captivating characters. This
original; —as well as the puritanism of Gilfil- chief is Fergus Vich Ian Vohr-a gallant and
Ian and Cruickshank-the atrocity of Mrs. ambitious youth. zealously attached to the
M!ucklewrath- and the slow solemnity of cause of the exiled family, and busy, at the
Alexander Saunderson. The Baron of Brad: moment, in fomenting the insurrection, by
wardine, and Baillie Macwheeble, are carica- which his sanguine spirit never doubted that
tures no doubt, after the fashion of the carica' their restoration was to be effected. He has
tures in the novels of Smollet, —or pictures, at a sister still more enthusiastically devoted to
the best, of individuals who must always have the same cause —recently returned from a rebeen unique and extraordinary: but almost sidence at the Court of France, and dazzling
all the other personages in the history are fair the romantic imagination of Waverley not less
representatives of classes that are still exist- by the exaltation of her sentiments, than his
ing, or may be remembered at least to have eyes by her elegance and beauty. While he
existed, by many whose recollections do not lingers in this perilous retreat, he is suddenly
extend quite so far back as to the year 1745. deprived of his commission, in.consequence
WYaverley is the representative of an old and of some misunderstandings and misrepresenopulent Jacobite family in the centre of Eng, tations which it is unnecessary to detail; and
land-educated at home in an.irregular man- in the first heat of his indignation, is almost
ner, and living, till the age of majority, mostly tempted to throw himself into the array of
in the retirement of his paternal mansion-  the Children of Ivor, and join the insurgents,
where he reads poetry, feeds his fancy with whose designs are no longer seriously disguisromantic musings, and acquires amiable dis- ed from him. He takes, however, the more
positions, and something of a contemplative, prudent resolution of returning, in the first
passive, and undecided character. All the place, to his family; but is stopped, on the
English adherents of the abdicated family borders of the Highlands, b'y the magistracy,
having renounced any serious hopes of their whom rumours of coming events had made
cause long before the year 1745. the guardians more than usually suspicious,. and forwarded
of young Waverley were induced, in that cele- as a prisoner to Stirling. On the march he is
brated year, to allow him to enter into the rescued by a band of unknown Highlanders,
army, as the nation was then engaged in for- who ultimately convey him in safety to Edineign war-and a passion for military glory had burgh, and deposit him in the hands of his
always been characteristic of-his line. He ob- friend Fergus Mac-Ivor, who was mounting
tains a commission. accordingly, in a regiment guard with his Highlanders at the ancient palof horse, then  stationed in Scotland, and ace of Holyrood, where the Ro-yl Adventurer
proceeds forthwith to head-quarters. Cosmo was then actually holding his court. A comComyne Bradwardine, Esq., of Tully-Veolan bination of temptations far too powerful for
in Perthshire, had been an ancient friend of such a temper, now beset Waverley; and,
tlhe house of Waverley, and had been enabled, inflamed at once by the ill-usage he thought
by their good offices, to get over a very awk- he had received from the government-the
ward rencontre with the King's Attorney- recollection of his hereditary predilectionsGeneral soon aftei the year 1715. The young his friendship and admiration of Fergus-his
heir was accordingly furnished with creden- love for his sister-and the graceful condetials to this faithful ally; and took an early scension and personal solicitations of the unopportunity of. paying his respelcts at the an- fortunate Prince. —he rashly vows to unite his
cient mansion of Tully-Veolan. The house fortunes with theirs, and enters as a volunteer
and its inhabitants, and their way of life, are in the ranks of the Children of Ivor.
admirably described.  The Baron himself   During his attendance at the court of Holyhad been bred a lawyer; and was, by choice, rood, his passion for the magnanimous Flora
a diligent reader of the Latin classics. His is gradually abated by her continued indifferprofession, however, was that of arms; and ence, and too entire devotion to the public
having served several campaigns on the Con- cause; and his affections gradually decline
tinent, he had superadded, to the pedantry upon Miss Bradwardine, who has leisure for
and jargon of his forensic and academical less important concernments.  He accomstudies, the technical slang of a German mar- panices the Adventurer's army, and signalizes
tinet-and a sprinkling of the coxcombry of a himself in the battle of Preston, —where he
Frenc:t mousquetaire.  He was, moreover, has the good fortune to save the life of an
prodigiously proud of his ancestry; and, with English officer, who turns out to be an intiall his peculiarities, which, to say the truth, mate friend of his family, and remonstrates
are rather more than can be decently accu- with him with considerable effect on the rash
mulated in one character, was a most honour- step he has taken.  It is now impossible,
able, valiant, and friendly person. He had however, he thinks, to recede with honour;
one fair daughter, and no more-who W'fas and he pursues the disastrous career of the
gentle, feminine, and affectionate. Waverley, invaders into England-during which he
though struck at first with the strange man- quarrels with. and is again reconciled to Fertiers of this northern baron, is at length do- gus-till he is finally separated from his corps
mesticated in the family; and is led, by.curi- in the confusion and darkness of the nightosity, to pay a'visit to the cave of a famous skirmish at Clifton-and, after lurking for
Highland robber or freebooter, from which he some time in concealment, finds his way to
Is conducted to the castle of a neighbouring London, where he is protected by the grate.
hieftain, and sees the Highland life in all its ful friend whose life he had saved at Preston,




526                               WORKS OF FICTION.
and sent back to Scotland till some arrange-   " The party preserved silence, interrupted only
merits could be made about his pardon. Here  by the monotonous and murmured chant of a Gaelio
he learns. the final discomfiture of his former song, sung in a kind of low recitative bv the steers,
associates-is fortunate enough to obtain lioth  man, and by the dash of the oars, which the notes
seemed to regulate, as they dipped to them in ca
his own pardon, and that of old Bradwardine  dence. The light, which they now approached
-and, after making sure of his interest in the  more nearly, assumed a broader, redder, and more
heart of the young lady, at last bethinks him  irregular splendour. It appeared plainly to be a
of going to give an account of himself to his large fire; but whether kindled upon an island or
family at Waverley-Honour.-In his way, he  the mainland, Edward could not determine. As he
attends the assizes at Carlisle, where all his saw it, the red glaring orb seemed to rest on the
very surface of the lake itself, and resembled the
efforts are ineffectual to avert the fate of his fiery vehicle in which the Evil Genius of an oriental
gallant friend Fergus-whose heroic demean- tale traverses land and sea.  They approached
our in that last extremity, is depicted with  nearer; and the light of the fire sufficed to show
great feeling;-has a last interview with the  that it was kindled at tle bottom of a huge dark crag
desolated Flora-obtains the consent of his or rock, rising abruptly from the very edge of the
friends to his marriage with Miss Bradwar- water; tsrmed aront strchaneg and byeven heaw refl contrast to
dine —puts the old Baron in possession of his the banks around, which were from time to time
forfeited manbr, and. m due time, carries his faintly and partially enlightened by pallid moonlight.
blooming bride to the peaceful shades of his   "The boat now neared the shore, and Edward
olvn paternal abode.                           could discover that this large fire was kindled in
the jaws of a lofty cavern, into which an inlet from
Such is the outline of the story;-although  the lake seemed to advance; and he conjectured,'
it is broken and diversified with so many sub- which was indeed true, that the fire had been kin.
ordinate incidents, that what we have now  dled as a beacon to the boatmen on their return.
given, will afford but a very inadequate idea  They rowed right for the mouth of the cave-; and
even of the narrative part of the performance. then shipping their oars, permitted the boat to enter
Though. that narrative is always lively and  with the impulse which it had received. The skiff
easy, thegratchamofteworpassed the little point, or platform of rock on which
easy, the great charm  of the work  consists, the fire was blazing, and running about two boats'
undoubtedly, in the characters and descrip- length farther, stopped where the cavern, for it was
tions-though we can scarcely venture to pre- already arched overhead, ascended from the water
sent our readers with more than a single  by five or six broad ledges of rock, so easy and
specimen; and we select, as one of the most regular that they might be termed natural steps.
characteristic the account of Waverley's night At this moment, a quantity of water was suddenly
flung upon the fire, which sunk with a hissing noise,
visit to the cave of the Highland freebooter.  and with it disappeared the light it had hitherto afforded. Four or five active arms lifted Waverlay
"In a short time, he found himself on the banks out of the boat, placed him on his feet, and almost
of a large river or lake, where his conductor gave carried him into the recesses of the cave. He made
him to understand they must sit down for a little a few paces in darkness, guided in this manner; and
while.  The moon, which now began to rise, advancing towards a humn of voices, which seemed
showed obscurely the expanse of water which  to sound from the centre of the rock, at an acute
spread before them, and the shapeless and indistinct turn Donald Bean Lean and his whole establishforms of mountains, with which it seerned to be ment were before his eyes.
surrounded. The cool, and yet mild air of the sum-   " The interior of the cave, which here rose very
mer night, refreshed Waverley after his rapid and  high, was illuminated by torches made of pine-tree,
toilsome walk; and the perfume which it wafted  which emitted a bright and bickering light, attended
from the birch trees, bathed in the evening dew, by a strong, though not unpleasant odour. Their
was exquisitely fragrant.                      light was assisted by the red glare of a large char" He had now time to give himself up to the full coal fire, round which were seated five or six armed
romance of his situation. Here he sat on the banks Highlanders, while others were indistinctly seen
of an unknown lake, under the guidance of a wild  couched on their plaids, in the more remote recesses
native, whose language was unknown to him, on a of the cavern. In one large aperture, which the
visit to the den of some renowned outlaw, a second robber facetiously called his spence (or pantry),
Robin Hood perhaps, or Adam o' Gordon, and that there hung by the heels the carcases of a sheep or
at deep midnight, through scenes of difficulty and ewe, and two cows, lately slaughtered.
toil, separated from his attendant, and left by his   "Being placed at a convenient distance from the
guide.                                         charcoal fire, the heat of which the season rendered
" While wrapt in these dreams of imagination, oppressive, a strapping Highland damsel placed behis companion gently touched him, and pointing in fore Waverley, Evan, and Donald Bean, three
a direction nearly straight across the lake, said, cogues, or wooden vessels, composed of staves and'Yon's ta cove.' A small point of light was seen  hoops, containing imrigh, a sort of strong soup
to twinkle in the direction in which he pointed, and, made out of a particular part of the inside of the
gradually increasing in size and lustre, seemed to beeves. After this refreshment, which, though
flicker like a meteor upon the verge of the horizon. coairse, fatigue and hunger rendered palatable,
While Edward watched this phenomenon, the dis- steaks, roasted on the coals, were supplied in libetant dash of oars was heard. The measured splash  ral abundance, and disappeared before Evan Dhu
arrived near and more near; and presently a loud and their host with a promptitude that seemed like
whistle was heard in the same direction.  His magic, and astonished Waverley, who was much
friend with the battle-axe immediately whistled  puseled to reconcile their voracity with what he had
clear and shrill, in reply to the signal; and a boat, heard of the abstemiousness of the Highlanders.manned with four or five Highlanders, pushed for A heath pallet, with the flowers stuck uppermost,
a little inlet, near which Edward was seated. He had been prepared for him in a recess of the ca.ve;
advanced to meet them with his attendant; was and here, covered with such spare plaids as could
immediately assisted into the boat by the officious be mustered, he lay for some time watching the
attention of two stout mountaineers; and had no motions of the other inhabitants of the cavern.
sooner seated himself, than they resumed their Small parties of two or three entered or left the
oars, and began to row across the lake with great place without any other ceremony than a few words
rapidity.                                      in Gaelic to the principal outlaw, and when he fell




WAvERLEY.                                         827
asieep, to a tall Highlander who acted as his lieuten- ly arranged, and to which she now added a few
ant, and seemed to keep watch during his repose. bunches of cranberries, gathered in an adjacent mo
Those who entered, seemed to have returned from  rass. Having had the satisfaction of seeing him
some excursion, of which they reported the success, seated at breakfast, she placed herself demurely
and went without farther ceremony to the larder, upon a stone at a few yards' distance, and appeared
where cutting with their dirks their rations from  to watch with great complacency for some oppor
the carcases which were there suspended, they pro- tunity of serving him.
ceeded to broil and eat them at their own time and    " Meanwhile Alice had made up in a small bas
leisure.                                       ket what she thought worth removing, and flinging
" At length the fluctuating groupes began to her plaid around her, she advanced up to Edward,
swim before the eyes of our hero as they gradually  and, with the utmost simplicity, taking hold of his
closed; nor did he reopen them till the morning hand, offered her cheek to his salute, dropping, at
sun was high on the lake without, though there was the same time, her little courtesy. Evan, who was
but a faint and glimmering twilight in the recesses esteemed a wag among the mountain fair, advanced,
of Uaimh an Ri, or the King's cavern. as the abode as if to secure a similar favour;. but Alice, snatch.
of Donald Bean Lean, was proudly denominated.  ing up her basket, escaped up the rocky bank as
" When Edward had collected his scattered recol- fleetly as a deer, and, turning round and laughing,
lection, he was surprised to observe the cavern to- called something out to him in Gaelic, which he
tally deserted. Having arisen and put his dress in answered in the same tone and language; then
some order, he looked more accurately around him, waving her hand to Edward, she resumed hei road,
but all was still solitary. If it had not been for the and was soon lost among the thickets, though they
dqcayed brands of the fire, now sunk into grey  continued for some time to hear her lively carol, as
ashes, and the remnants of the festival, consisting she proceeded gaily on her solitary journey."of bones half burned and half gnawed, and an empty  Vol. i. pp. 240-270.
keg or two, there remained no traces of Donald and    The gay scenes of the Adventurer's court
his band.
"Near to the mouth of the cave he heard the — the breaking up of his army from  Edinnotes of a lively Gaelic song, guided by which, in burgh-the battle of Preston-and the whole
a sunny recess, shaded by a glittering birch tree, process of his disastrous advance and retreat
and carpetted with a bank of firm white sand, he from the English provinces, are given with
found the damsel of the cavern, whose lay had the greatest brilliancy and effect-as well as
already reached him, busy to the best of her power, te scenes of internal disorder and rising disin arranging to advantage a morning repast of milk, the scenes of internal disorder and rising diseggs, barley bread, fresh butter,and honeycomb. union that prevail in his scanty army-the
The poor girl had made a circuit of four miles that quarrel with Fergus-and the mystical visions
morning in search of the eggs, of the meal which  by which that devoted chieftain foresees his
baked her cakes, and of the other materials of the disastrous fate. The lower scenes again with
breakfast, being all delicacies which she had to beg Mrs. Flockhart  Mrs Nosebag, Callum-Beg,
or borrow from distant cottaogers. The followers
of' Donald Bean Lean used little food except the and the Cumberland peasants, though to some
flesh of the animals which they drove away from  fastidious readers they may appear coarse and
the Lowlands; bread itself was a delicacy seldom  disgusting, are' painted with a force and a
thought of, because hard to be obtained; and all truth to nature, which equally bespeak the
the domestic accommodations of milk, poultry, but- powers of the artist, and are incomparably
ter, &c. were out of the question in this Scythian  superior to any thing  f the sort which has
camp. Yet it must not be omitted, that although superior to any thing of the sort which has
Alice had occupied a part of the morning in provi- been offered to the public for the last " sixty
ding those accommodations for her guest which the years."2  There are also various copies of,
cavern did not afford, she had secured time also to verses scattered through the  work, which
arrange her own person in her best trim. Her indicate poetical talents of no ordinary definery was very simple. A short russet-coloured scription-though bearing, perhaps still more
jacket, and a petticoat of scanty longitude, was her distinctl than the prose, the traces of considwhole dress: but these were clean, and neatly ar-distinctly than the prose
ranged. A piece of'scarlet embroidered cloth, called erable carelessness and haste.
the snood, confined her hair, which fell over it in a   The worst part of the book by far is that
profusion of rich dark curls. The scarlet plaid, portion of the first volume which contains the
which formed part of her dress, was laid aside, that history of the hero's residence in Englandit might not impede her activity in attending the and next to it is the laborious, tardy, and.bstranger. I should forget Alice's proudest ornament were I to omit mentioning a pair of gold ear- scure explanation of some puzzling occurrings, and a golden rosary which her father, (for rences in the story, which the reader would,
she was the daughter of Donald Bean Lean) had in general, be much better pleased to be perbrought from France-the plunderprobably of some mitted to forget-and which are neither-well'
battle or storm.                               explained after all, nor at all worth explaining
"Her form, though rather large for her years,   There has been much speculationr   at least
was very well proportioned, and her demeanourThere has been much specution at least
had a natural and rustic grace, with nothing of the in this quarter of the island, about the authorsheepishness of an ordinary peasant. The smiles, ship of this singular performance-and cerdisplaying a row of teeth of exquisite whiteness, and  tainly it is not easy to conjecture why it i's
the laughing eyes, with which, in dumb-show, she still anonymous. -Judging by internal evigave Waverle y that morning greeting which she   ence  to which alone we pretend to havd
wanted Englisfi words to express, might have been  4
interpreted by a coxcomb, or perhaps a young access, we should not scruple to ascribeit to
soldier, who, without being such, was conscious of the highest of those authors to whom it has,
a handsome person, as meant to convey more than been assigned by the sagacious conjectures,
the*courtesy of a hostess. Nor do I take it upon of the public;-and this at least we will venme to say, that the little wild mountaineer would  ture to say, that if it be indeed the work of
have welcomed any staid old gentleman advanced an author hitherto unknown Mi. Scott would
in life, the Baron of Bradwardine, for example, an author hitherto look to hs laurelsn  to rouse
with the cheerful pains which she bestowed upon do well to look to his laurels, and to rouse\
Edward's accommodation. She seemed eager to himself for a sturdier competition than any
place him by the meal which she had so sedulous- he has yet had to encounter!




WORKS OF FICTION.
(ItctarrI),  1817.)
Tales of My Landlord, collected and arranged by Jedediah Cleishbothamrn., Sckoolmnaster and
Parish Clerk of the Parish of Gandercleugh. 4 vols.  12mo. Edin'burgh: 1816.
THIS, we think, is beyond all question a ing dull and uninteresting to the votaries of
new coinage from the mint which-.-lduced these more seductive studies.  Among the
Waverley, Guy Mannering, and the Antiquary: most popular of these popular productions
-For though it does not bear the legend and that have appeared in our times, we must
superscription of the Master on the face of rank the works to which we just alluded 
the pieces, there is no mistaking either the and we do not hesitate to say, that they are
quality of the metal or the execution of thc well entitled to that distinction.  They are
die-and even the private mark, we dou,  indeed, in many respects, very extraordinary
not, may be seen plain enough, by those who performances-though in nothing more extraknow how to look for it. {i is quite impos- ordinary than in having remained so ]ori' unsible to read ten pages of this work, in short claimed. There is no name, we think. in our
without feeling that it belongs to the sam. literature, to which they would not add lustre
school with those very remarkable produ   -and lustre, too, of a very enviable kind;
tions; and no one who has any knowledge of for they not only show great talent, but in
nature, or of art, will ever doubt that it is an finite good sense and good nature,-a more
original.  The very identity of the leading vigorous and wide-reaching intellect than i!
characters in the whole set of stories, is a often displayed in novels, and a more powerstronger proof, perhaps, that those of the last ful fancy, and a deeper sympathy with va
eries are not copied from the former, than rious passion, than is often combined witl
oven the freshness and freedom of the drape- such strength of understanding.
ries with which they are now invested-or   The author, whoever he is, has a trul)
the ease and spirit of the new groups into praphic and creative power in the inventioni
which they are here combined. No imitator \and delineation of characters- which he
would have ventured so near his originals,'ketches with an ease, and colours with a
and yet come off so entirely clear of them: brilliancy, and scatters about with a pro.
And we are only the more assured that the fusion, which  reminds us of Shakespeare
old acquaintances we continually recognise in himself: Yet with all this force and felicity
these volumes, are really the persons they in the representation of living agents, he has
pretend to be, and no false mimics, that w   the eye of a poet for all the strikiugaspects
recollect so perfectly to have seen them be  external of nature; and usually contrives,
fore,-or at least to have been familiar with both in his scenery and in the groups with
some of their near relations!             which it is enlivened, to combine the picturWe have often been astonished at the esque with the natural, with a grace that has
quantity of talent-of invention, observation, rarely been attained by artists so copious and
And knowledge of character, as well as of -rapid. His narrative, in this way, is kept con-.
spirited and graceful composition, that may stantly full of life, variety, and colour; and
be found in those works of fiction in our lan- is so interspersed with glowing descriptions,
guage, which are  generally regarded as and lively allusions, and flying traits of saamong the lower productions of our litera- gacity and pathos, as not only to keep our
ture,-upon which ilo great pains is under- attention continually awake, but to afford a
stood to be bestowed, and which are seldom  pleasing exercise to most of our other faculregarded as titles to a permanent reputation. ties. The prevailing tone. is very gay and]
If Novels, however, are not fated to last as pleasant; but the author's most remarkable,
long as Epic poems, they are at least a great and, perhaps, his most delightful talent, is
deal more popiil'ar in their season; and, slight that of representing kindness of heart in union
as their structure, and imperfect as their fin- with lightness of spirits and great simplicity
ishing may often be thought in comparis~n  of character. and of bending the expression
we have no hesitation in saying, that the better of warm and generous and exalted affections
specimens of the art are incomparably more with scenes and persons that are in themselves
entertaining, and considerably more instruc-, both lowly and ludicrous. This gift he shares
tive. The great objection to them, indeed, s  with his illustrious countryman Burns-as he
that they are too entertaining-and are s  does many of the other qualities we have
pleasant in the reading, as to be apt to pro- mentioned with another living poet, —who ls
duce a disrelish for other kinds of reading, only inferior perhaps in that to which we have
which may be more necessary, and can ini last alluded. It is very honourable indeed,
no way be made so agreeable. Neither sci- we think, both to the author, and to the readers
ence, nor authentic history, nor political nor among whom he is so extremely popular, that
professional instruction, can be rightly con- the great interest of his pieces is for the most
veyed, we fear, in a pleasant tale; and, there  part a Moral interest-that the concern we
fore, all those things are in danger of appear- take in his favourite characters is less on ae



TALES OF MY LANDLORD.                               52!
count of their adventures than of their amia- helplessness and humility of our common
bleness-and that the great charm of his works nature. Unless we misconstrue very grossly
is derived from the kindness of heart, the the indications in these volumes, the author
capacity of generous emotions, and the lights thinks no times so happy as tlose in which an
of native taste which he ascribes, so lavishly, indulgent monarch awards a reasonable porand at the same time with such an air of truth tion of liberty to grateful subjects, who do
and familiarity, even to the humblest of these not call in question his right either to give or
favourites. With all his relish for the ridicu- to withhold it-in which a dignified and delous, accordingly, there is no tone of misan- cent hierarchy receives the homage of their
thropy, or even of sarcasm, in his representa- submissive and uninquiring flocks-and a
tions; but, on the contrary, a great indulgence gallant nobility redeems the venial immoand relenting even towards those who a"e to ralities of their gayer hours, by brave and
be the objects of our disapprobation. There honourable conduct towards each other, and
is no keen or cold-blooded satire-no bitter- spontaneous kindness to vassals, in whom
ness of heart, or fierceness of resentment, in they recognise no independent rights, and not
any part of his writings. His love of ridicule many features of a common nature.
is little else than a love of mirth; and savours   It is very remarkable, however, that, with
throughout of.the joyous temperament in propensities thus decidedly aristocratical, the
which it appears to have its origin; while the ingenious author has succeeded by far the
buoyancy of a raised and poetical imagination best in the representation of rustic and homely[
lifts him continually above the region of mere characters; and not in the ludicrous or conjollity and good humour, to which a taste, by temptuous representation of them-but by
no means nice or fastidious, might otherwise making them at once more natural and more
be in danger of sinking him. He is evidently interesting than they had ever been made
$ person of a very sociable and liberal spirit before in any work of fiction; by showing
-with great habits of observation-who has them, not as clowns to gle laughed at-or
ranged pretty Extensively through the varie- wretches, to be pitied and despised —but as
ties of human life and character, and mingled human creatures, with as many pleasures and
with them all, not only with intelligent famili- fewer cares than their superiors-with affea.
arity, but'with a free and natural sympathy tions not only as strong, but often as delicate
for all the diversities of their tastes, pleasures, as those whose langua'e is smoother-and
and pursuits-one who has kept his heart as with a vein of humour, a force of sagacity,
well as his eyes open to all that has offered and very frequehiTy-an elevation of fancy, as
itself to engage them; and learned indulgence high and as natural as can be met with among
for human faults and follies, not only from  more cultivated beings  The great merit of
finding kindred faults in their most intolerant all these delineations, is their admirable truth
censors, but also for the sake of the virtues by and fidelity-the whole manner and cast of
which they are often redeemed, and the suf- the characters~ being accurately moulded on
ferings by which they have still oftener been their condition-and the finer attributes that
chastised.  The temper of his writings, in are ascribed to them so blended and harmonisshort, is precisely the reverse of those of our ed. with the native rudeness and simplicity of
Laureates and Lakers, who, being themselves their life and occupations, that they are made
the most whimsical of mortals, make it a con- interesting and even noble beings, without the
science to loathe and abhor all with whom  least particle of foppery or exaggeration, and
they happen to disagree; and labour to pro- delight and amuse us, without trespassing at
mote mutual, animosity and all manner of all on the province of pastoral or romance.
uncharitableness among mankind, by refer-   Next to these, we think, he has found hfs
ring every supposed error of taste, or pecu- happiest subjects, or at least displayed his
liarity of opinion, to some hateful corruption greatest powers, in the delineation of thegrand
p' the heart and understanding.!and gloomy aspects of nature, and of the dark'
With all the indulgence, however., which and fierce passions of the heart. The natural
we so justl3cribe to him, we are fa'r from  gaiety of his temper does not indeed allow
complainingt the writer before us for being him to dwell long on such themes j —but the,
too neutral and undecided on the great sub- sketches he occasionally introduces, are _exejects which are most apt to engender exces- cuted with admirable force and spirit-and.
sive zeal and intolerance-and we are almost give a strong impression both of the vigour of
as far from agreeing with him as to most of his imagination, and the variety of his talent.
those subjects. In politics it is sufficiently It is only in the third rank that we would place
manifest, that he is a decided Tory-and, we his pictures of chivalry and chivalrous char-|
are'afraid, something of a latitudinarian both acter-his traits of gallantry, nobleness, and
in morals and religion. He is very apt at-least honour —and that bewitching combination of
to make a mock of all enthusiasm for liberty gay and gentle manners, with generosity, can-,
or faith-and not only gives a decided prefer- dour, and courage, which has long been faence to the social over the austerer virtues- miliar enough to readers and writers of novelsr
but seldom expresses any warm or hearty ad- but has never before been represented with,
miration, except for those graceful and gentle- such an air of truth, and so much ease and,
man-like principles, which can generally be happiness of exeqution.
acted upon with a gay countenance —and do   Among his faults and failures, we must givenot imply any great effort of self-denial, or the first place tbo his descriptions of virtuouw
any deep sense of the rights of others, or the young ladies-and his representations of th.
34




n80                           WORKS OF FICTION.
ordinary business of courtship and conversa- the place of a more detailed examination of
tion in polished life. We admit that those those which he has given to the public since
things, as they are commonly conducted in we first announced him  as the author of
real life, are apt to be a little insipid to a mere Waverley. The time for noticing his two
critical spectator; —and that while they conse- intermediate works, has been permitted to go
quently require more heightening than strange by so far, that it would probably be difficult
adventures or grotesque persons, they admit to recal the public attention to them with any
less of exaggeration or ambitious ornament: effect;  and, at all events, impossible to affect,
-Yet we cannot think it necessary that they by any observations of ours, the judgment
should be altogether so tame and mawkish as which has been passed upon them, with very
we generally find them in the hands of this little assistance, we must say, from professed
spirited writer,-whose powers really seem  critics, by the mass of their intelligent readers,
to require some stronger stimulus to bring -by whom, indeed, we have no doubt that
them into action, than can be supplied by the they are, by this time, as well known, and as
flat realities of a peaceful and ordinary exist- correctly estimated, as if they had been inence. His love of the ludicrous, it must also debted to us for their first impressions on the
be observed, often betrays him into forced subject. For our own parts we must confess,
and vulgar exaggerations, and into the repeti- that Waverley still has to us all the fascination
tion of common and paltry stories,-though it of a first love! and that we cannot help thinkis but fair to add, that he does not detain us Ang, that the greatness of the public transaclong with them, and makes amends by the Itions in which that story was involved, as
copiousness of his assortment for the indiffer- Iwell as the wildness and picturesque graces
ent quality of some of the specimens. It is of its Highland scenery and characters, have
another consequence of this extreme abund- invested it with a charm, to which the more
Once in which he revels and riots, and of the familiar attractions of the other pieces havel
fertility of the imagination from which it is not quite come up.. In this, perhaps, our
supplied, that he is at all times a little apt to opinion differs from that of better judges; —
overdo even those things which he does best. but we cannot help suspecting, that the latter
His most striking and highly coloured char- publications are most admired by many, at
acters appear rather too often, and go on rather least in the southern part of the island, only
too long. It is astonishing, indeed, with what because they are more easily and perfectly
spirit they are supported, and how fresh and understood, in consequence of the training
animated they are to the very last;-but still which had been gone through in the perusal.there is something too much of them-and of the former. But, however that be, we are
they would be more waited for and welcomed, far enough from denying that the two sueif they were not quite so lavish of their pres- ceeding works are performances of extraordience.-It was reserved for Shakespeare alone, nary merit,-and are willing even to admit
t9 leave all his characters as new and unworn that they show  quite as much power and
as he found them,-and to carry Falstaff genius in the author-though, to our taste at
through the business of three several plays, least, the subjects are less happily selected.
aiid leave us as greedy of his sayings as at the   Dandie Dinmont is, beyond all question, we
rioment of his first introduction. It is no think, the best rustic portrait.that has ever
light praise to the author before us, that he yet been exhibited to the public-the most
hams sometimes reminded us of this, as well honourable to rustics, and the most creditable
as' other inimitable excellences in that most to the heart, as-well as the genius of the artist
gifted of all inventors.                  -the truest to'nature-the most interesting
ITo complete this hasty and unpremeditated and the most complete in all its lineaments.
sketch of his general characteristics, we must -Meg Merrilees belongs more to the departadd, that he is above all things national and ment of poetry. She is most akin to the
Scottish — and never seems to feel the powers witches of Macbeth, with some traits of the
of a Giant, except when he touches his native ancient Sybil engr4fted on the,coarser stock
soil. His countrymen alone. therefore, can of a Gipsy of the last.century?Fhough not
have a full sense of his merits, or a perfect  bsolutely in nature-howeverie must be
relish of his excellences;-and those only,  Ilowed to be a very imposing and emphatic
indeed of them, who have mingled, as he,ersonage; and to be mingled, both with the
has done, pretty freely with the lower orders business and the scenery of the piece, with
and made themselves familiar not only with the greatest possible skill and effect.-Pleytheir language, but with the habits and traits dell is a harsh caricature; and Dirk Hatteric
of character, of which it then only btcomes a vulgar bandit of the Germian school. The
expressive. It is one thing to understand the lovers, too, are rather more faultless and more
meaning of words, as they are explained by insipid than usual,-and all the genteel perother words in a glossary, and another to know  sons, indeed, not a little fatiguing. Yet there
their value, as expressive of certain feelings are many passages of great merit, of a gentler
and humours in the speakers to whom they and less obtrusive character. The grief of
are native) and as signs both of temper and old Ellengowan for the loss of his child, and
zondition among those who are familiar with the picture of his own dotage and death, are
their import.                             very touching and natural; while the many
We must content ourselves, we fear, with descriptions of the coast scenery, and of the
ihis hasty and superficial sketcl of the gene- various localities of the story, are given with
al character of this author's pefformances, in a freedom, force, and effect, that bring every




TALES OF MY LANDLORD.                               &21
feature before our eyes, and impress us with little too much like the hero of a fairy tale,
an irresistible conviction of their reality.  and the structure and contrivance of the story,
The Antiquary is, perhaps, on the whole, in general; would bear no small affinity to
less interesting,-though there are touches in that meritorious and edifying class of compo.
it equal, if not superior, to any thing that sitions, was it not for the nature of the details
occurs in either of the other works. The and the quality of the other persons to whom
adventure of the tide and nigh'; storm under they relate-who are as real, intelligible, and
the cliffs, we do not hesitate to pronounce the tangible beings as those with whom we are
very best description we ever met with,-in made familiar in the course of the author's
verse or in prose, in ancient or in modern former productions. Indeed they are very
writing. Old Edie is of the family of AMeg apparently the same sort of people, and come
Merrilees,-a younger brother, we confess, here before us again with all the recommendawith less terror and energy, and more taste tions of old acquaintance. The outline of the
and gaiety, but equally a poetical embellish- story is soon told. The scene is laid among the
ment of a familiar character; and yet resting Elliots and Johnstons of the Scottish border,
enough on the great points of nature, to be and in the latter part of Queen Anne's reign;
blended without extravagance in the trans- when the union then newly effected between
actions of beings so perfectly natural and the two kingdoms, had revived the old feelthoroughly alive that no suspicion can be en- ings of rivalry, and held out, in the general
tertained of their reality. The Antiquary him- discontent, fresh encouragement to the partiself is the great blemish of the work,-at zans of the banished family. In this turbulent
lest in so far as he is an Antiquary;-though period, two brave, but very peaceful and loyal
we must say for him, that, unlike most oddi- persons, are represented as plodding their way
ties, he wearies us most at first; and is so homewards from deer-stalking, in the gloom
managed, as to turn out both more interesting of an autumn evening, when they are encounand more amusing than we had any reason tered, on a lonely moor, by a strange misto expect. The low characters in this book shapen Dwarf, who rejects their proffered
are not always worth drawing; but they are courtesy, in a tone of insane misanthropy, and
exquisitely finished; and prove the extent and leaves Hobbie Elliot, who is the successor of
accuracy of the author's acquaintance with Dandie Dinmont in this tale, perfectly perhumain life and human nature.-The family suaded that he is not of mortal lineage, but a
of the fisherman is an exquisite group through- goblin of no amiable dispositions. He, and
out; and, at the scene of the funeral, in the his friend Mr. Earnscliff, who is a gentleman
highest degree striking and pathetic. Dous- of less credulity, revisit him again, however,
terswivel is as wearisome as the genuine in daylight; when they find him laying the
Spurzheim himself: And the tragic story of foundations of a small cottage in that dreary
the Lord is, on the whole. a miscarriage; spot. With some casual assistance the fabric
though interspersed with passages of great is completed; and the Solitary, who still
force and energy. The denouement which con- maintains the same repulsive demeanour,
nects it with the active hero of the piece, is al- fairly settled in it. Though he shuns all sotogether forced and unnatural. —We come now, ciety and conversation, he occasionally ad.
at once. to the work immediately before us.  ministers to the diseases of men and cattle;
The Tales of My Landlord, though they fill and acquires a certain awful reputation in the
four volumes, are, as yet, but two in number; country, half between that of a wizard and a
the one being three times as long, and ten heaven-taught cow-doctor. In the mean time
times as interesting as the other. The intro- poor Hobbie's house is burned, and his cattle
duction, from which the general title is de- and his bride carried off by the band of one
rived, is as foolish and clumsy as may be  of the last Border foragers, instigated chiefly
and is another instance of that occasional im- by Mr. Vere, the profligate Laird of Ellieslaw,
becility or self-willed caprice, which every who wishes to raise a party in favour of the
now and then leads this author, before he Jacobites; and between whose daughter and
gets afloat on the full stream of his narration, young Earnscliff there is an attachment, which
intb absurdities which excite the astonish- her father disapproves. The mysterious Dwarf
ment of the least gifted of his readers. This gives Hobbie an oracular hint to seek for his
whole prologue of My Landlord, which is lost bride in the fortress of this plunderer
vulgar in the conception, trite and lame in the which he and his friends, under the command
execution, and utterly out of harmony with of young Earnseliff, speedily invest; and
the stories to which it is prefixed, should be when they are ready to smoke him out of
entirely retrenched in the future editions; his inexpugnable tower, he capitulates, and
and the two novels, which have as little con- leads forth, to the astonishment of all the benection with each other as with this ill-fancied siegers, not Grace Armstrong, but Miss Vere,
prelude, given separately to the world, each who, by some unintelligible refinement of
under its own denomination.               iniquity, had been sequestered by her worthy
The first, which is comprised in one volume. father in that appropriate custody. The Dwarf,
is called "The Black Dwarf"-and is, in who,  with all his misanthropy, is the most
every respect, the least considerable of the benevolent of human beings, gives Hobbie a
family-though very plainly of the legitimate fur bag full of gold, and contrives to have his
race-and possessing merits, which, in any bride restored to him. He is likewise conwther company, would have entitled it to no sulted in secret by Miss Vere, who is sadly
slight distinction. The Dwarf himself is A distressed, like all other fictitious Damsels, by




a532                               WORKS OF FICTION.
her father's threats to solemnise a forced  upon the monument of the slaughtered Presbyte.
marriage between her and a detestable ba- rians; and busily employed in deepening, with his
ronet.-and promises to appear and deliver chisel, the letters of the inscription, which announc.
her however imminent the h azard my ap-ing, in scriptural language, the promised blessings
her, however imminent the hazard my ap- of futurity to be the lot of the slain, anathematized
pear. Accordingly, when they are all ranged  the murderers with corresponding violence. A blue
for the sacrifice before the altar in the castle  bonnet of unusual dimensions covered the grey hairs
chapel, his portentous figure pops out from  of the pious workman. His dress was a large old.
behind a monument,-when he is instantly  fashioned coat, of' the coarse cloth called hoddinrecognised by the guilty Ellieslaw, for a cer- grey, usually worn by the elder peasants, with
waistcoat and breeches of the same; and the whole
tain Sir Edward Mauley, who was the cousin  suit, though still in decent repair, had obviously
and destined husband of the lady he had af- seen a train of long service. Strong clouted shoes
terwards married, and who had been plunged  studded with hob-nails, and gramoches or leEgirns
into temporary insanity by the shock of that made of thick black cloth, completed his equip.
fair one's inconstancy, on his recovery from  ment. Beside him, fed among the graves, a pony,
which he had allowed Mr. Vere to retain the  the companion of his journey, whose extreme white-.   ness, as well as its proj~ecting bones and hollow
greatest part of the property to which he suc- eyes, indicated its antiquity. It was harnessed in
ceeded by her death; and had been supposed  the most simple manner, with a pair of branks, and
to be sequestered in some convent abroad, hair tether, or halter, and a sunk, or cushion of
when he thus appears to protect the daughter straw, instead of bridle and saddle. A  canvass
of his early love. The desperate Ellieslaw at pouch hung round the neck of the animal, for the purfirst thinks of having recourse to force, and  pose, probably, of containing the rider's tools, and
first thinks of having recourse to force  any thing else he might have occasion to carry with
calls in an armed band which he had that him. Although I had never seen the old man beday assembled, in order to favonr a rising of fore, yet, from the singularity of his employment,
the Catholics-when he is suddenly surround- and the style of his equipage, I had no difficulty in
ed by Hobbie Elliot and Earnscliff, at the recognising a religious itinerant whom I had often
head of a more Elloyal party, who hae jst  heard talked of, and who was known in various
head of a more loyal party, who have just parts of Scotland by the name of Old Mortality.
overpowered the insurgents. and taken pos-   "Where this man was born, or what was his
session of the castle.  Ellieslaw and the Ba- real name, I have never been able to learn, nor are,
ronet of course take horse and shipping forth  the motives which made him desert his home, and
of the realm; while his fair daughter is given  adopt the erratic mode of life which he pursued,
away to Earnscliff by the benevolent Dwarf; known to me except very generally. He is said to
immediately  afterwards disappear, and  have held, at one period of his life, a small moorwho immediately afterwards disappears, and -land farm; but, whether from pecuniary losses, or
seeks a more profound retreat, beyond the  domestic misfortune, he had long renounced that
reach of their gratitude and gaiety.           and every other gainful calling. In the language
The other and more considerable story, of Scripture, he left his house, his home, and his
which fills the three remaining volumes of kindred, and wandered about until the day of his
this publication, is entitled, though with no  death-a period, it is said, of nearly thirty years.
h  spaion  ""During this long pilgrimage, the pious enthusigreat regard even to its fictitious origin,: Old  ast regulated his circuit so as annually to visit the
Mortality;f —for, at most, it should only have  graves of the unfortunate Covenanters, who suffered
been called the tale or story of Old Mortality  by the sword, or by the executioner, during the
-being supposed to be collected from the in- reigns of the two last monarchs of the Stuart line.
formation of a singular person who is said at These tombs are often apart from all human habitation, in the remote moors and wilds to which the
one time to have been known by that strange  wanderers had fled for concealment. But whereve:
appellation.  The redacteur of his interesting  they existed, Old Mortality was sure to visit them,
traditions is here supposed to be a village  when his annual round brought them within his
schoolmaster; and though his introduction  reach. In the most lonely recesses of the mounbrings us again in contact with My Landlord  tains, the moorfowl shooter has been often surand his parish clerk, we could have almost prised to find him busied in cleaning the moss from
thathis unluckyeficti, if it had ofe   the grey stones, renewing with his chisel the halfforgiven that unlucky fiction if it had often  defaced inscriptions, and repairing the emblems of
presented us in company with sketches, as death with which these simple monuments are
graceful aswe find in the following passage, usually adorned.
of the haunts and habits of this singular per-   " As the wanderer was usually to be seen bent
sonage. After mentioning that there was, on  on this pious task within the precincts of some
the steep and heathy banks of a lonely rivulet, country churchyard, or reclined on the solitary
the serted  heathy   banksof a        lonely i vulet   tombstone among the heath, disturbing the plover
a deserted burying ground to which he used  and the blackcock with the clink of his chisel and
frequently to turn his walks in the evening, mallet, with his old white pony grazing by his side,
the gentle pedagogue proceeds-                 he acquired, fiom his converse among the dead, the
popular appellation of Old Mortality."
"One summer evening as, in a stroll such as I popular a. ppellation of Old Mortality."
have described, I approached this deserted mansion                         Vol. ii. pp. 7-18.
of the dead, I was somewhat surprised to hear   The scene of the story thus strikingly intro.
sounds distinct from those which usually soothe its duced is laid-in Scotland of course-in those
solitude, the gentle chiding, namely, of the brook, disastrous times which immediately preceded
and the sighing of the wind in the boughs of three
gigantic ash trees, which mark the cemetery. The the Revolution of 1688; and exhibits a lively
clink of a hammer was, upon this occasion, dis- picture, both of the general state of manners
tinctly heard; and I entertained some alarm that a at that period, and of the conduct and temper
march-dike, long meditated by the two proprietors and principles of the two great parties in poliwhose estates were divided by my favourite brook, tics and religion that were then engaged in
was about to be drawn up the glen, in order to sub-   al and rancor.
stitute its rectilinear deformityi )r the graceful wind- unequ      ous hostility.  There are
ing of the natural boundary. As I Approached I no times certainly, within the reach of authen'
was agreeably undeceived. Arnold man was seated tic history, on which it is more painful to look




TALES OF MY LANDLORD.                                533
back-which show a government more base else of it than that such events took place in
and tyrannical, or a people more helpless and its course. Few men, in short, are historical
miserable: And though a~l pictures of the characters-and scarcely any man is always.
greater passions are full of interest, and a or most usually, performing a public part.
lively representation of strong and enthusiastic The actual happiness of every life depends
emotions never fails to be deeply attractive, far more on things that regard it exclusively,
the piece would have been too full of distress than on those political occurrences which are
and humiliation, if it had been chiefly engaged the common concern of society; and though
with the course of public events, or the record nothing lends such an air, both of reality and
of public feelings. So sad a subject would importance, to a fictitious narrative, as to connot have suited many readers-and the author, nect its persons with events in real history,
we suspect, less than any of them. Accord- still it is the imaginary individual himself that
ingly, in this, as in his other works, he has excites our chief interest throughout, and we
made use of the historical events which came care for the national affairs only in so far as
in his way, rather to develope the characters, they affect him. In one sense, indeed, this
and bring out the peculiarities of the individu- is the true end and the best use of history;
als whose adventures he relates, than for any for as all public events are important only as
purpose of political information; and makes they ultimately concern individuals, if the inus present to the times in which he has placed dividual selected belong to a large and comthem, less by his direct notices of the great prehensive class, and the events, and their
transactionsbywhich they were distinguished, natural operation on him, be justly representthan by his casual intimations of their effects ed, we shall be enabled, in following out his
on private persons, and by the very contrast adventures, to form no bad estimate of their
which their temper and occupations often ap- true character and value for all the rest of the
pear to furnish to the colour of the national community.
story. Nothing, indeed, in this respect is more   The author before us has done all this, we
delusive, or at least more woefully imperfect, think; and with admirable talent and effect:
than the suggestions of authentic history, as and if he has not been quite impartial in the
it is generally-or rather universally written management of his historical persons, has con-and nothing more exaggerated than the im- trived, at any rate, to make them contribute
pressions it conveys of the actual state and largely to the interest of his acknowledged
condition of those who live in its most agitated inventions. His view of the effects of great
periods. The great public events, of which political contentions on private happiness, is
alone it takes cognisance, have but little direct however, we have no doubt, substantially
influence upon the body of the people; and true; and that chiefly because it is not exagdo not, in general, form the principal business, gerated-because he does not confine himself
or happiness or misery even of those who are to show how gentle natures may be roused
in some measure concerned in them. Even into heroism, or rougher tempers exasperated
in the worst and most disastrous times-in into rancour, by public oppression,-but turns
periods of civil war and revolution, and public still more willingly to show with what ludidiscord and oppression, a great part of the crous absurdity genuine enthusiasm may be
time of a great part of the people is still spent debased, how little the gaiety of the lightin making love and money-in social amuse- hearted and thoughtless may be impaired by
ment or professional industry-in schemes for the spectacle of public calamity, and how, in
worldly advancement or personal distinction, the midst of national distraction, selfishness
just as in periods of general peace and pros- will pursue its little game of quiet and cunperity. Men court and marry very nearly as ning speculation-and gentler affections find
much in the one season as in the other; and time to multiply and to meet!
are as merry at weddings and christenings-   It is this, we think, that constitutes the great
as gallant at balls and races-as busy in their and peculiar merit of the work before us. It
studies and counting houses-eat as heartily. contains an admirable picture of manners and
in short, and sleep as sound-prattle with of characters; and exhibits, we think, with
their children as pleasantly-and thin their great truth and discrimination, the extent and
plantations and scold their servants as zeal- the variety of the shades which the stormy
ously, as if their contemporaries were not fur- aspect of the political horizon would be likely
nishing materials thus abundantly for the to throw on such objects. And yet, though
Tragic muse of history. The quiet under- exhibiting beyond all doubt the greatest poscurrent of life, in short, keeps its deep and sible talent and originality, we cannot help
steady course in its eternal channels, unaf- fancying that we can trace the rudiments of
fected, or but slightly disturbed, by the storms almost all its characters in the very first of the
that agitate its surface; and while long tracts author's publications. —Morton is but another
of time, in the history of every country, seem, edition of Waverley;-taking a bloody part in
to the distant student of its annals, to be dark- political contention, without caringmuchabout
ened over with one thick and oppressive cloud the cause, and interchanging high offices of
of unbroken misery, the greater part of those generosity with his political opponents.who have lived through the whole acts of the'Claverhouse has many of the features of the
tragedy will be found to have enjoyed a fair gallant Fergus.-Cuddie Headrigg, of whos
average share of felicity, and to have been merits, by the way, we have given no fai
much less ir pressed by the shocking events specimen in our extracts, is a Dandie Dinmon
of their day than those who know nothing of a considerably lower species; —-and ever




534                          W- ORKS OF FICTION.
the Covenanters and their leaders were sha-   On the other point, also, we rather lean to
dowed out, though afar off; in the gifted Gil- the side of the author. He is a Tory, we
fillan, and mine host of the Candlestick. It is think, pretty plainly in principle, and scarcely
in the picture of these hapless enthusiasts, disguises his preference for a Cavalier over a
undoubtedly, that the great merit and the Puritan: But, with these propensities, we
great interest of the work consists. That in- think he has dealt pretty fairly with both
terest, indeed, is so great, that we perceive it sides-especially when it is considered that
has even given rise to a sort of controversy though he lays his scene in a known crisis of
among the admirers and contemners of those his national history, his work is professedly a
ancient worthies. It is a singular honour, no work of fiction, and cannot well be accused
doubt, to a work of fiction and amusement, to of misleading any one as to matters of fact.
be thas made the theme of serious attack and He might have made Claverhouse victorious
defence upon points of historical and theologi- at Drumclog, if he had thought fit-and nocal discussion; and to have grave dissertations body could have found fault with him. The
written by learned contemporaries upon the insurgent Presbyterians of 1666 and the subaccuracy of its representations of public events sequent years, were, beyond all question, a
and characters, or the moral effects of the stylei pious, brave, and conscientious race of menof ridicule in which it indulges. It is difficult' to whom, and to whose efforts and sufferings,
for us, we confess, to view the matter in so their descendants are deeply indebted for the
serious a light; nor do we feel much disposed, liberty both civil and religious which they
even if we had leisure for the task, to venture still enjoy, as well as for the spirit of resistourselves into the array of the disputants. ance to tyranny, which. we trust, they have.
One word or two, however, we shall say, be- inherited along with it. Considered generally
fore concluding, upon the two great points as a party, it is impossible that they should
of difference. First, as to the author's pro- ever be remembered, at least in Scotland, but
fanity, in making scriptural expressions ridicu- with gratitude and veneration-that their sufious by the misuse of them he has ascribed to ferings should ever be mentioned but with
the fanatics; and, secondly, as to the fairness deep resentment and horror-or their heroism,
of his general representation of the conduct both active and passive, but with pride and
and character of the insurgent party and their exultation. At the same time, it is imposopponents.                                  sible to deny, that there were among them
As to the first, we do not know very well many absurd and ridiculous persons-and
what to say. Undoubtedly, all light or jocu- some of a savage and ferocious characterlar use of Scripture phraseology is in some old women, in short, like Mause Headrigg-.
measure indecent and profane: Yet we do not preachers like Kettledrummle-or desperaknow in what other way those hypocritical does like Balfour or Burley. That a Tory
pretences to extraordinary sanctity which novelist should bring such characters promigenerally ~disguise themselves in such a garb, nently forward, in a tale of the times, appears
can be so effectually exposed. And even where to us not only to be quite natural, but really
the ludicrous misapplication of holy writ arises to be less blameable than almost any other
from mere ignorance, or the foolish mimicry way in which party feelings could be shown.
of more learned discoursers, as it is impossible But, even he, has not represented the bulk of
to avoid smiling at the folly when it actually the party as falling under this description, or
occurs. it is difficult for witty and humorous as fairly represented by such personages. He
writers, in whose way it lies, to resist fabri- has made his hero —who, of course, possesses
cating it for the purpose of exciting smiles. all possible virtues-of that persuasion; and
In so far as practice can afford any justification  has allowed them, in general, the courage of
of such a proceeding, we conceive that its martyrs, the self-denial of hermits, and the
justification would be easy. In all our jest- zeal and sincerity of apostles. His representabooks, and plays and works of humour for two tion is almost avowedly that of one who is
centuries back, the characters of Quakers and not of their communion; and yet we think it
Puritans and Methodists, have been constantly impossible to peruse it, without feeling the
introduced as fit objects of ridicule, on this greatest respect and pity for those to whom it
very account. The Reverend Jonathan Swift is applied. A  zealous Presbyterian might,
is full of jokes of this description; and the no doubt, have said more in their favour, withpious and correct Addison himself is not a little out violating, or even concealing the truth;fond of a sly and witty application of a text but,. while zealous Presbyterians will not
from the sacred writings. When an author, write entertaining novels themselves, they
therefore, whose aim was amusement, had to cannot expect to be treated in them with exdo with a set of people, all of whom dealt in actly the same favour as if that had been the
familiar applications of Bible phrases and Old character of their authors.
Testament adventures, and who, undoubtedly,   With regard to the author's picture of their
very often made absurd and ridiculous appli- opponents, we must say that, with the excepcations of them, it would be rather hard, we tion of Claverhouse himself, whom  he has
think, to interdict him entirely from the repre- invested gratuitously with many graces and
sentation of these absurdities; or to put in liberalities to which we are persuaded he has
force, for him  alone, those statutes against no title,, and for whom, indeed, he has a foolprofaneness which so many other people have ish fondness, with which it would be absurd
been allowed to transgress, in their hours of to deal seriously-he has shown no signs of a
galety, without censure or punishment.     partiality that can be blamed, nor exhibited




ROB ROY.                                  5tS
many traits in them with which their enemies palliation: and the bloodthirstiness of Dalzell,
have reason to quarrel. If any person 6an and the brutality of Lauderdale, are repre.
read his strong and lively pictures of military sented in their true colours. In short, if this
insolence and oppression, without feeling his author has beef somewhat severe upon the
blood boil within him, we must conclude the Covenanters, neither has he spared their op.
fault to be in his own apathy, and not in any pressors; and the truth probably is, that never
softenings of the partial author — nor do we dreaming of being made responsible for his.
know any Whig writer who has exhibited the torical accuracy or fairness in a composition
baseness and cruelty of that wretched gov- of this description, he has exaggerated a little
ernment, in more naked and revolting de- on both sides, for the sake of effect-and been
formity, than in his scene of the torture at carried, by the bent of his humour, most fre.
the Privy Council. The military executions quently to exaggerate on that which afforded
of Claverhouse himself are admitted without the greatest scope for ridicule.
(februarV,  1818s.)
Rob Roy. By the author of Waverley, Guy Mannering, and The Antiquary. 12mo. 3 vols.
pp. 930. Edinburgh: 1818.
THIS is not so good, perhaps, as some others ed-the same dramatic vivacity-the same
of the family;- but it is better than any thing deep and large insight into human natureelse; and has a charm and a spirit about it and the same charming facility which distinthat draws us irresistibly away from our graver guish all the other works of this great master;
works of politics and science, to expatiate and make the time in which he flourished an
upon that which every body understands and era never to be forgotten in the literary history
agrees in; and after setting us diligently to of our-country.
read over again what we had scarce finished   One novelty in the present work is, that it
reading, leaves us no choice but to tell our is thrown into the form of a continued and
readers what they all know already, and to unbroken narrative, by one of the persons
persuade them of that of which they are most. principally concerned in the story'-:-and who
intimately convinced.                    is represented in his declining age as detailSuch, we are perfectly aware, is the task ing to an intimate friend the most interesting
which we must seem to perform to the greater particulars of his early life, and all the recolpart of those who may take the trouble of ac- lections with which they were associated.
companying us through this article. But there We prefer, upon the whole, the commlunica.
may still be some of our readers to whom the tions of an avowed author; who, of course,
work of which we treat is unknown;- and has no character to sustain but that of a
we know there are many who are far from  pleasing writer-and can praise and blame,
being duly sensible of its merits. The public, and wonder and moralise, in all tones and
indeed, is apt now and then to behave rather directions, without subjecting himself to any
unhandsomely to its greatest benefactors; and charge of vanity, ingratitude, or inconsistency.
to deserve the malison which Milton has so The thing, however, is very tolerably manemphatically bestowed on those impious per- aged on the present occasion; and the hero
sons; who,                               contrives to let us into all his exploits and
perplexities, without much violation either of
with senseless base ingratitude,    heroic modesty or general probability;-to
which ends, indeed, it conduces not a little,
— nothing, we fear, being more common, than that, like most of the other heroes of this ingeto see the bounty of its too lavish providers nious author. his own character does not rise
repaid by increased captiousness at the quality very notably above the plain level of mediof the banquet, and complaints of imaginary ocrity-being, like the rest of his brethren, a
failings off-which should be imputed entirely well-conditioned, reasonable, agreeable young
to the distempered state of their own pam- gentleman-not particularly likely to do any
pered appetites. We suspect, indeed, that we thing which it would be very boastful to speak
were ourselves under the influence of this of, and much better fitted to be a spectator and
illaudable feeling when he -wrote the first historian of strange doings, than a partaker in
line of this paper: For, except that the sub- them.
ject seems to us somewhat less happily   This discreet hero, then, our readers will
chosen, and the variety of characters rather probably have anticipated, is not Rob Royless than in some of the author's former pub- though his name stands alone in the title-but,
lications, we do not know what right we had a Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, the only son of
to say that it was in any respect inferior to a great London Merchant or Banker, and
them. Sure we are, at all events, that it has nephew of a Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone, a
the same brilliancy and truth of colouring- worthy Catholic Baronet, who spent his time
the same gaiety of tone, rising every now in hunting, and drinking Jacobite toasts in
and then into feelings both kindly and exalt-i Northumberland, some time about the yeas




536                             WORKS OF FICTION.
1714. The young gentleman having been played the extraordinary talent of being true
educated among the muses abroad, testifies to nature, even in the representation of ima decided aversion to the gtainful vocations in possible persons.
which his father had determined that he   The serious interest of the work rests on
should assist aud succeed him — and as a Diana Vernon and on Rob Roy: the comic
punishment for this contumacy, he banishes effect is left chiefly to the ministrations of
him for a season to the Siberia of Osbaldistone Baillie Nicol Jarvie and Andrew Fairservice,
Hall, from  which he himself had been es- with the occasional assistance of less regular
tranged ever since his infancy. The young performers. Diana is, in our apprehension. a
exile jogs down on horseback rather merrily, very bright and felicitous creation —though it
riding part of the way with a stout man, who is certain that there never could have been
was scandalously afraid of being robbed. and any such person.  A girl of eighteen, not
meeting once with a sturdy Scotchman, whose only with more wit and learning than any
resolute air and energetic discourses make a man of forty, but with more sound sense,
deep impression on him.-As he approaches and firmness of character, than arny man
the home of his fathers, he is surrounded by whatever-and with perfect frankness and
a party of fox hunters, and at the same mo- elegance of manners, though bred' among
ment electrified by the sudden apparition of boors and bigots-is rather a more violent
a beautiful young woman, galloping lightly fiction, we think, than a king with marble
at the head of the field, and managing her legs, or a youth with an ivory shoulder. In
sable palfrey with all the grace of an Angelica. spite of all this, however, this particular ficMaking up to this etherial personage, he tion is extremely elegant and impressive;
soon discovers that he is in the heart of his and so many features of truth are blended
kinsfolks-that the tall youths about him are with it, that we soon forget the impossibility,
the five sons of Sir Hildebrand; and the virgin and are at least as much interested as by a
huntress herself, a cousin and inmate of the more conceivable personage. The combinafamily, by the name of Diana Vernon. She tion of fearlessness with perfect purity and
is a very remarkable person this same Diana. delicacy, as well as that of the inextinguishThough only eighteen years of age, and ex- able gaiety of youth with sad anticipations
quisitely lovely, she knows all arts and sci- and present suffering, are all strictly natural,
ences, elegant and inelegant-and has, more- and are among the traits that are wrought out
over, a more than masculine resolution, and in this portrait with the greatest talent and
more than feminine kindness and generosity -effect. In the deep tone of feeling, and the
of character-wearing over all this a playful, capacity of heroic purposes, this heroine bears
free. and reckless manner, more characteristic a family likeness to the Flora of Waverley;
of her age than her various and inconsistent but her greater youth, and her unprotected
accomplishments.  The rest of the household situation, add prodigiously to the interest of
are comely savages; who hunt all day, and these qualities. Andrew Fairservice is a new,
drink all night, without one idea beyond those and a less interesting incarnation of Cuddie
heroic occupations-all, at least, except Rash- Headrigg; with a double allowance of selfishleigh, the youngest son of this hopeful family ness, and a top-dressing of pedantry and con-who, having been designed for the church, ceit-constituting a very admirable and just
and educated among the Jesuits beyond seas, representation of the least amiable of our
had there acquired all the knowledge and the Scottish vulgar. The Baillie, we think, is an
knavery which that pious brotherhood was so original.  It once occurred to us, that he
long supposed to impart to their disciples.-  might be described as a mercantile and townAlthough very plain in his person, and very ish Dandie Dinmont; but the points of resemdepraved in his character, he has great talents blance are really fewer than those of contrast.
and accomplishments, and a very insinuating He is an inimitable picture of an acute, sagaaddress. He had been, in a good degree, the cious, upright, and kind man, thoroughly low
instructor of Diana, who, we should have bred, and beset with all sorts of vulgarities.
mentioned, was also a Catholic, and having Both he and Andrew are rich mines of the
lost her parents, was destined to take the veil true Scottish language; and afford, in the
in a foreign land, if she did not consent to hands of this singular writer, not only an admarry one of the sons of Sir Hildebrand; for ditional proof of his perfect familiarity with
all of whom she cherished the greatest aver- all its dialects, but also of its extraordinary
sion an(l contempt.                         copiousness, and capacity of adaptation to all
Mr. Obaldistone, of course, can do nothing tones and subjects. The reader may take a
but fall in love with this wonderful infant; brief specimen of Andrew's elocution in the
for which, and some other transgressions, he following characteristic account of the pur.
incurs the deadly, though concealed, hate of gation of the Cathedral Church of Glasgow,
Rashleigh, and meets with several unpleasant and its consequent preservation from  the
adventures through his means. But we will hands of our Gothic reformers.
not be tempted even to abridge the details of   "' Ah! it's a brave kirk-nane o' yere whiga story with which we cannot allow ourselves maleeries and curlie-wurlies and open.steek hems
to doubt that all our readers have long been about it-a' solid, weel-jointed mason-wark, that
familiar: and indeed it is not in his story that will stand as long as the warld, keep hands and
this author's strength ever lies; and here he gunpowther affit. It had amaist a doun-come lang
has lost sight of probabilityeven in the con  syne at the Reformation, when they pu'd doun the
has lost sight of probability.even in the conl- kirks of St. Andrews and Perth, and thereawa,
sep.ion of some of his characters; and dis- to cleanse them o' Papery, and idolatry, and image




WAVERLEY NOVELS.                                     537
worship, and surplices, and sic like rags Q' the! as they had done elsewhere. It was na for luve
muckle hoor that sitteth on seven hills, as if ane o' Paparie-na, na!-nane could ever say that o'
was na braid aneugh for her auld hinder end. Sae the trades o' Glasgow-Sae they sune cam to an
the commons o' Renfrew, and o' the Barony, and agreement to take a' the idolatrous statutes of sants
the Gorbals, and a' about, they behooved to come (sorrow be on them) out o' their neuks-And
into Glasgow ae fair morning to try their hand on sae the bits o' stane idols were broken in pieces by
purging the High Kirk o' Popish nick-nackets. Scripture warrant. and flung into the Molendinar
But the townsmen o' Glasgow, they were feared Burn, and the auld kirk stood as crouse as a cat
their auld edifice might slip the girths in gaun when the fleas are caimed aff her, and a'body was
through siccan rough physic, sae they rang the alike pleased.  And I hae heard wise folk say,
common bell, and assembled the train bands wi' that if the same had been done in ilka kirk in Scot.
took o' drum-By good luck, the worthy James land, the Reform wad just hae been as pure as it
Rabat was Dean o' Guild that year-(and a gude is e'en now, and we wad had mair Christian-like
mason he was himsell, made him the keener to kirks; for I hae been sae lang in England, that
keep up the auld bigging), and the trades assem- naething will drive it out o' my head, that the dogbled, and offered downright battle to the com- kennell at Osbaldistone-Hall is better than mony
mnons, rather than their kirk should coup the crans, a house o' God in Scotland.'
(januar, t182.)
1. Ivanhoe. A Romance. By the Author of Waverley, &c. 3 vols. Edinburgh, Constable & Co.
2. The Novels and Tales of the Author of WTaverley; comprising Waverley, Guy Mannering,
Antiquary, Rob Roy, Tales of MF Landlord, First, Second, and Third Series; New Edition,
with a copious Glossary.  Edinburgh, Constable & Co.:  1820.
SINCE the time when Shakespeare wrote his own  satisfaction, that heaven knows how
thirty-eight plays in the brief space of his many of these busy bodies have been beforeearly manhood-besides acting in them, and hand with us, both in the genus and the species
drinking and living idly with the other actors of our invention!
-and then went carelessly to the country,   The author before us is certainly in less
and lived out his days, a little more idly, and danger from  such detections, than any other
apparently unconscious of having done any we have ever met with; but, even in him, the
thing at all extraordinary-there has been no traces of imitation are obvious and abundant;
such prodigy of fertility as the anonymous and it is impossible, therefore, to give him the
author before us.  In the period of little more same credit for absolute originality as those
than five years, he has founded a new school earlier writers, who, having no successful
of invention; and established and endowed it author to imitate, were obliged to copy direct.
with nearly thirty volumes of the most ani- ly from nature.  In naming him  along with
mated and original compositions that have Shakespeare, we meant still less to say that
enriched English literature for a century-  he was to be put on a level with Him, as to
volumes that have cast sensibly into the shade the richness and sweetness of his fancy, or
all contemporary prose, and even all recent that living vein of pure and lofty poetry which
poetry-(except perhaps that inspired by the flows with such abundance through every part
Genius-or the Demon. of Byron)-and. by of his compositions.  On that level no other
their force of colouring and depth of feeling-  writer has ever stood-or will ever standby their variety, vivacity, magical facility, though we do think that there is fancy and
and living presentment of character, have poetry enough in these contemporary pages,
rendered conceivable to this later age the if not to justify the comparison we have venmiracles of the Mighty Dramatist.            tured to suggest, at least to save it, for the
Shakespeare, to be sure, is more purely first time for two hundred years, from  being
original; but it should not be forgotten, that, altogether ridiculous.  In saying even this
in his time, there was much less to borrow-  however, we wish to observe. that we have in
and that he too has drawn freely and largely view the prodigious variety and facility of the
from  the sources that were open to lim, at modern writer-at least as much as the q1ralleast for his fable and graver sentiment; —for ity of his several productions. The variety
his wit and humour, as well as his poetry, are stands out on the face of each of them; ant
always his own.  In our times, all the higher the facility is attested, as in the case of
walks of literature have been so long and so Shakespeare himself, both by the inimitable
often trodden, that it is scardely possible to freedom and happy carelessness of the style
keep out of the footsteps of some of our pre- in which they are executed, and by the matchcursors;.and the ancients, it is well known, less rapidity with which they have been lay
have stolen most of our bright thoughts-and  ished on the public.
not only visibly beset all the patent ap-   Such an author would really require a reproaches to glory-but swarm  in such am- view to himself-and one too of swifter than
bushed multitudes behind, that when we quarterly recurrence; and accordingly we have
think we have gone fairly beyond their pla- long since acknowledged our inability to keep
giarisms, and honestly worked out an original up with him, and fairly renounced the task
excellence of our own, up starts some deep- of keeping a regular account of his successive
read antiquary, and makes it out; much to his publications; contenting ourselves with greet



38                           SWORKS OF FICTION.
ing him now and then in the pauses of his valued file" of his productions. The ti;il and
brilliant career, and casting, when we do condemnation of Effie Deans are pathetic and
meet, a hurried glance over the wide field he beautiful in the very highest degree; and the
has traversed since we met before.        scenes with the Duke of Argyle are equally
We gave it formerly, we think, as our reason full of spirit; and strangely compounded of
for thus passing over, without special notice, perfect knowledge of life and of strong- and
some of the most remarkable productions of deep feeling. But the great boast of the
the age, that they were in fact too remarkable piece, and the great exploit of the authorto need any notice of ours-that they were as perhaps the greatest of all his exploits -is the
soon, and as extensively read, as we could character and history of Jeanie Deans, from
hope our account of them to be-and that in the time she first reproves her sister's flirtareality all the world thought just what we tions at St. Leonard's, till she settles in the
were inclined to say of them. These reasons manse in Argyleshire. The singular talent
certainly remain in full force; and we may with which he has engrafted on the humble
now venture to mention another, which had and somewhat coarse stock of a quiet unas.
in secret, perhaps, as much weight with us as suming peasant girl, the heroic affection, the
all the rest put together. We mean simply, strong sense, and lofty purposes, which disthat when we began with one of those works, tinguish this heroine-or rather, the art with
we were conscious that we never knew how  which he has so tempered and modified those
to leave off; but, finding the author's words great qualities, as to make them appear noso much more agreeable than our own, went ways unsuitable to the station or ordinary
on in the most unreasonable manner copying bearing of such a person, and so ordered and
out description after description, and dialogue disposed the incidents by which they are
after dialogue. till we were abused, not alto- called out, that they seem throughout adapted,
gether without reason, for selling our readers and native as it were, to her condition, —is
in small letter what they had already in large, superior to any thing we can recollect in the
-and for the abominable nationality of filling history of invention; and must appear, to any
up our pages with praises of a Scottish author, one who attentively considers it, as a remarkand specimens of Scottish pleasantry and pa- able triumph over the greatest of all difficulthos. While we contritely admit the justice ties in the conduct of a fictitious narrative.
of these imputations, we humbly trust that Jeanie Deans, in the course of her adventurous
our Southern readers will now be of opinion undertaking, excites our admiration and symthat the offence has been in some degree ex- pathy a great deal more powerfully than most
piated, both by our late forbearance, and our heroines, and is in the highest degree both
present proceeding: For while we have done pathetic and sublime: —and yet she never
violence to our strongest propensities, in pass- says or does any one thing that the daughter
ing over in silence two very tempting publi- of a Scotch cowfeeder might not be supposed
cations of this author, on Scottish subjects and to say-and scarcely any thing indeed that is
in the Scottish dialect, we have at last recur- not characteristic of her rank and -habitual
red to him for the purpose of noticing the only occupations. She is never sentimental, nor
work he has produced on a subject entirely refined, nor elegant; and though acting alEnglish; and one which is nowhere graced ways, and in very difficult situations, with
either with a trait of our national character, or the greatest judgment and propriety, never
a (voluntary) sample of our national speech.  seems to exert more than that downright and
Before entering upon this task, however, we obvious good sense which is so often found to
must be permitted, just for the sake of keep- rule the conduct of persons of her condition.
ing our chronology in order, to say a word or This is the great ornament and charm of the
two on those neglected works, of which We work. Dumbiedykes, however, is an admirconstrained ourselves to say nothing, at the able sketch in the grotesque way;-and the
time when they formed the subject of all other Captain of Knockdunder is a very spirited,
disceptation.                             and, though our Saxon readers will scarcely
"The Heart of Mid-Lothian" is remarkable believe it. a very accurate representation of a
for containing fewer characters, and less va- Celtic deputy. There is less description of
riety of incident, than any of the author's scenery, and less sympathy with external naformer productions: —and it is accordingly, in ture, in this, than in any of the.other tales.
some places, comparati,nly languid.  The    " The Bride of Lammermoor" is more
Porteous mob is rather heaviy described; and sketchy and romantic than the usual vein of
the whole part of George Robertson, or Stan- the author-and loses, perhaps, in the exagton, is extravagant and unpleasing. The final geration that is incident to that style, some of
catastrophe, too, is needlessly improbable and the deep and heartfelt interest that belongs to
startling; and both Saddletrees and Davie more familiar situations. The humours of
Deans become at last somewhat tedious and Caleb Balderstone, too, are to our taste the
unreasonable; while we miss, throughout, the least successful of this author's attempts at
character of the generous and kindhearted pleagantry-and belong rather to the school
rustic; which, ia one form or another, gives of French or Italian buffoonery, than to that
such spirit arid interest to most of the other of English humour;-mand yet, to give scope
stories. But with all these defects, the work to these farcical exhibitions, the poverty of
has both beauty and power enough to vindi- the Master of Ravenswood is exaggerated be.
cate its title to a legitimate descent from its yond all credibility, and to the injury even of
mighty father-and even to a place in " the his personal dignity. Sir W. Asnton is tedious




WAVERLEY NOVELS.                                 53&
and Bucklaw and his Captain, though excel- productions of which we have been prevented
lently drawn, take up rather too much room  from speaking in detail, we proceed, without
for subordinate agents.-There are splendid further preface, to give an account of the
things, however, in this work also.-The pic- work before us.
ture of old Ailie is exquisite-and beyond the'  The story, as we have already stated, is enreach of any other living writer.-The hags tirely English; and consequently no longer pos.
that convene in the churchyard, have all the sesses the charm of that sweet Doric dialect,
terror and sublimity, and more than the na- of which even strangers have been made of
ture of Macbeth's witches; and the courtship late to feel the force and the beauty. But our
at the Mermaiden's well, as well as some of Southern neighbours will be no great gainers,
the immediately preceding scenes, are full of after all, in point of familiarity with the perdignity and beauty. There is a deep pathos sonages, by this transference of the scene of
indeedc and a genuine tragic interest in the action: —For the time is laid as far back as
whole story of the ill-omened loves of the two the reign of Richard I.-and we suspect that
victims. The final catastrophe of the Bride, the Saxons and Normans of that age are rather
however, though it may be founded on fact, less known to them than even the Highlanders
is too horrible for fiction.-But that of Ravens- and Cameronians of the present. This was
wood is magnificent-and, taken along with the great difficulty the author had to contend
the prediction which it was doomed to fulfil, with, and the great disadvantage qfthe suband the mourning and death of Balderstone, ject with which he had to deal. No-ody now
is one of the finest combinations of supersti- alive can have a very clear or complete contion and sadness which the gloomy genius of ception of the actual way of life and maniere
our fiction has ever put together.        d'etre of our ancestors in the year 1194. Some
"C The Legend of Montrose " is also of the of the more prominent outlines of their chivnature of a sketch or fragment, and is still alry, their priesthood, and their villenage,
more vigorous than its companion.-There is may be known to antiquaries, or even to gentoo much, perhaps, of Dalgetty-or, rather, he eral readers; but all the filling up, and deengrosses too great a proportion of the work, tails. which alone could give body and life to
-for, in hinself, we think he is uniformly the picture, have been long since effaced by
entertaining; —and the author has nowhere time. We have scarcely any notion, in short,
shown more affinity to that matchless spirit of the private life and conversation of any
who could bring out his Falstaffs and his Pis- class of persons in that remote period; and,
tols, in act after act, and play after play, and in fact, know less how the men and women
exercise them  every time in scenes of un- occupied or amused themselves-what they
bounded loquacity, without either exhausting talked about-how they looked-or Ni hat they
their humour, or varying a note from its char- habitually thought or felt. at that time in Engacteristic tone, than in his large and reiterated land, than we know of what they did or
specimens of the eloquence of the redoubted thought at Rome in the time of Augustus, or
Rittmaster. The general idea of the charac- at Athens in the time of Pericles. The meter is familiar to our comic dramatists after morials and relics of those earlier ages and
the Restoration-and may be said in some remoter nations are greatly more abundant
measure to be compounded of Captain Fluel- and more familiar to us, than those of our anlen and Bobadil; —but the ludicrous combi- cestors at the distance of seven centuries.
nation of the soldado with the Divinity student Besides ample histories and copious orations,
of Marischal college, is entirely original; and we have plays, poems, and familiar letters of
the mixture of talent, selfishness, courage, the former periods; while of the latter we
coarseness, and conceit, was never so happily have only some vague chronicles, some suexemplified. Numerous as his speeches are, perstitious legends, and a few fragments of
there is not one that is not characteristic-  foreign romance. We scarcely know, indeed,
and, to our taste, divertingly ludicrous. An- what language was then either spoken or
not Lyle, and the Children of the Mists are in written. Yet, with all these helps, how cold
a very different manner-and, though extrava- and conjectural a thing would a novel be, of
gant, are full of genius and poetry. The which the scene was laid in ancient Rome l
whole scenes at Argyle's Castle, and in the The author might talk with perfect propriely
escape from it-though trespassing too far of the business of the Forum, and the amusebeyond -:he bounds of probability-are given ments of the Circus —of the baths and the
with great spirit and effect; and the mixture suppers, and the canvass for office —and the
of romantic incident and situation, with the sacrifices, and musters, and assemblies. He
tone of actual business and the real transac- might be quite correct as to the dress, furnitions of a camp, give a life and interest to the ture, and utensils he had occasion to mention;
warlike part of the story, which belong to the and might even engross in his work various
fictions of no other hand. There is but little anecdotes and sayings preserved in contemmade of Montrose himself; and the wager porary authors. But when he came to repreabout the Candlesticks-though said to be sent the details of individual character and
founded in fact, and borrowed from a very feeling, and to delineate the daily conduct,
well known and entertaining book, is one of and report the ordinary conversation of his
the few things in the writings of this author, persons, he would find himself either frozen
to which we are constrained to apply the epi- in among naked and barren generalities, or
thets of stupid and silly.                engaged with modern Englishmen in the masHaving thus hastily set our mark on those querade habits of antiquity.




H40                           WORKS OF FICTION.
In stating these difficulties, however, we greater proportion of the work is accordingly
really mean less to account for the defects, made up of splendid descriptions of arms and
than to enhance the merits of the work before dresses-moated and massive castles-tourna.
us. For though the author has not worked ments of mailed champions-solemn feastsimpossibilities, he has done wonders with his formal courtesies, and other matters of external
subject; and though we do sometimes miss and visible presentment, that are only entitled
those fresh and living pictures of the charac- to such distinction as connected with the olden
ters which we know. and the nature with time, and new only byvirtue of their antiquit
which we are familiar-and that high and -while the interest of the story is maintained
deep interest which the home scenes of our far more by surprising adventures and extraown times, and our own people could alone ordinary situations, the startling effect of exgenerate or sustain, it is impossible to deny aggerated sentiments, and the strong contrast
that he has made marvellous good use of the of exaggerated characters, than by the sober
scanty materials at his disposal-and eked charms of truth and reality,-the exquisite
them out both by the greatest skill and dex- representation of scenes with which we are
terity in their arrangement, and by all the re- familiar, or the skilful development of affecsources that original genius could render sub- tions which we have often experienced.
servient to such a design. For this purpose   These bright lights and deep shadows-this
he has j!id his scene in a period when the succession of brilliant pictures, addressed as
rivalry oFthe victorious Norman and the con- often to the eye as to the imagination, and
quered Saxon, had not been finally composed; oftener to the imagination than the heart-this
and when the courtly petulance, and chival- preference of striking generalities to homely
rous and military pride of the one race, might details, all belong more properly to the proyet be set in splendid opposition to the manly vince of Poetry than of Prose; and Ivanhoe
steadiness, and honest but homely simplicity accordingly seems to us much more akin to
of the other: And has, at the same time, the most splendid of modern poems, than the
given an air both of dignity and of reality to most interesting of modern novels; and savours
his story, by bringing in the personal prowess more of Marmion, or the Lady of the Lake
of Ceur de Lion himself, and other person- than of Waverley, or Old Mortality. For our
ages of historical fame, to assist in its devel- part we prefer, and we care not who knows
opment.-Though reduced, in a great measure, it, the prose to the poetry-whether in metre
to the vulgar staple of armed knights and or out of it; and would willingly exchange, if
jolly friars or woodsmen, imprisoned damsels, the proud alternative were in our choice, even
lawless barons, collared serfs, and household the great fame of Mr. Scott, for that which
fools-he has made such admirable use of his awaits the mighty unknown who has here
great talents for description, and invested raised his standard of rivalry, within the anthose traditional and theatrical persons with cient limits of his reign. We cannot now,
Eo much of the feelings and humours that are however, give even an abstract of the story;
of all ages and all countries, that we frequent- and shall venture, but on a brief citation, from
ly cease to regard them-as it is generally the most striking of its concluding scenes.
right to regard them-as parts of a fantastical The majestic Rebecca, our readers will recolpageant; and are often brought to consider lect, had been convicted before the grand
the knights who joust in panoply in the lists, master of the Templars, and sentenced to die,
and the foresters who shoot deer with arrows. unless a champion appeared to do battle with
and plunder travellers in the woods, as real her accuser, before an appointed day. The
individuals, with hearts of flesh and blood appointed dayat last arrives. Rebecca is led
beating in their bosoms like our own-actual out to the scaffold-faggots are prepared by
existences, in short, into whose views we may the side of the lists-and in the lists appears
still reasonably enter, and with whose emo- the relentless Templar, mounted and armed
tions we are bound to sympathise. To all for the encounter. No champion appears for
this he has added. out of the prodigality of Rebecca; and the heralds ask her if she yields
his high and inventive genius, the grace and herself as justly condemned.
the interest of some lofty, and sweet, and
superhuman characters —for which, though   "' Say to the Grand Master,' replied Rebecca,
superhuman characters-for which, though' that I maintain my innocence, and do not yield me
evidently fictitious, and unnatural in any as justly condemned, lest I become guilty of mine
stage of society, the remoteness of the scene own blood. Say to him, that I challenge such deon which they are introduced, may serve as lay as his forms will permit, to see if God, whose
an apology-if they could need any other opportunity is in man's extremity, will raise me up
than what they bring along with them  in a deliverer; and when such uttermost space is
their own sublimity and beauty.           passed, may his Holy will be done!' The herald
retired to carry this answer to the Grand Master.In comparing this work then with the former' God forbid,' said Lucas Beaumanoir,' that Jew or
productions of the same master-hand, it is Pagan should impeach us of injustice.-Until the
impossible not to feel that we are passing in shadows be cast from the west to the eastward, will
a good degree from the reign of nature and we wait to see if a champion will appear for this
reality, to that of fancy and romance; and ex- unfortunate woman.'
changing for scenes of wonder and curiosity,   The hours pass away-and the shadows
those more homefelt sympathies and deeper begin to pass to the eastward. The assembled
touches of delight that can only be excited by multitudes murmur with impatience and com.
the people among whom we live, and the ob- passion-and the Judges whisper to each other
ects that are constantly around us. A far that it is time to proceed to doom.




WAVERLEY NOVELS.                                       541;' At this instant a knight, urging his horse to alone. Elgitha had no sooner retired with unwilling
speed, appeared on the plain advancing towards the steps; than, to the surprise of the Lady of Ivanhoe,
lists. An hundredvoicesexclaimed,'A champion! her fair visitant kneeled suddenly on one knee,
a champion!' And, despite the prepossession and pressed her hands to her forehead, and, bending her
prejudices of the multitude, they shouted unani- head to the ground, in spite of Rowena's resistance,
mously as the knight rode rapidly into the tilt-yard. kissed the embroidered hem of her tunic.-' What
To the summons of the herald, who demanded his means this?' said the surprised bride;' or why do
rank, his name, and purpose, the stranger knight you offer to me a deference so unusual?' —"Beanswered readily and boldly,'I am a good knight cause to you, Lady of Ivanhoe,' said Rebecca,
and noble, come hither to sustain with lance and  rising up and resuming the usual quiet dignity of
sword the just and lawful quarrel of this damsel, her manner,'I may lawfully, and without rebuke,
Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York; to uphold the pay the debt of' gratitude which I owe to Wilfred of
doom pronounced against her to be false and truth- Ivanhoe. I am-fobrgive the boldness which has
less; and to defy Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, as a offered to you the homage of my country-I am the
traitor, murtherer, and liar.'' The stranger must unhappy Jewess, fbr whom your husband hazarded
first show,' said Malvoisin,'that he is a good  his life against such fearful odds in the tilt-yard of
Knight, and of honourable lineage. The Temple  Templestowe.-' Damsel,' said Rowena,' Wilfred
sendeth not forth her champions against nameless of Ivanhoe on that day rendered back but in a slight
men.'-' My name,' said the Knight, raising his measure your unceasing charity towards him in his
helmet,'is better known, my lineage more pure, wounds and misfortunes. Speak. is there aught
Malvoisin, than thine own. I am Wilfred of Ivan- remains in which he and I can serve thee?'-' Nothhoe.'-' I will not fight with thee,' said the Templar, ing,' said Rebecca, calmly,' unless you will transin a changed and h1ollow voice.' Get thy wounds mit to him my grateful farewell.'-' You leave Enghealed, and purvey thee a better horse, and it may  land, then,' said Rowena, scarce recovering the sur.
be I will hold it worth my while to scourge out of prise of this extraordinary visit.-' I leave it, lady,
thee this boyish spirit of bravade.'-' Ha! proud  ere this moon again changes. My father hath a
Templar,' said Ivanhoe,'hast thou forgotten that brother high in favour with Mohammed Boabdil,
twice didst thou fall before this lance? Remember King of Grenada-thither we go, secure of peace
the lists at Acre-remember'the Passage of Arms and protection, for the payment of such ransom as
at Ashby-remember thy proud vaunt in the halls the Moslem exact from our people.'-' And are you
of Rotherwood, and the gage of your gold chain not then as well protected in England?' said Roweagainst my reliquary, that thou wouldst do battle na.' My husband has favour with the King-the
with Wilfred of Ivanhoe, and recover the honour King himself is just and generous.'-' Lady,' said
thou hadst lost! By that reliquary, and the holy  Rebecca,' I doubt it not-but England is no safe
relique it contains, I will proclaim thee, Templar, abode for the children of my people. Ephraim is an
a coward in every court in Europe —in every Pre- heartless dove —ssachar an over-laboured drudge,
ceptory of thine Order-unless thou do battle with- which stoops between two burthens. Not in a land
out farther delay.'-Bois-Guilbert turned his coun- of war and blood, surrounded by hostile neighbours,
tenance irresolutely towards Rebecca, and then ex- and distracted by internal factions, can Israel hope
claimed, looking fiercely at Ivanhoe,'Dog of a to rest during her wanderings.'-' B,,t you, maiden,'
Saxon, take thy lance, and prepare for the death said Rowena-' you surely can have nothing to fear.
thou hast drawn upon thee!'-' Does the Grand  She who nursed the sick-bed of Ivanhoe,' she conMaster allow me the combat?' said Ivanhoe.-' I tinued, rising with enthusiasm-' she can have nothmay not deny what you have challenged,' said the ing to fear in England, where Saxon and Norman
Grand Master,'yet I would thou wert in better will contend who shall most do her honour.'-' Thy
plight to do battle. An enemy of our Order hast speech is fair, lady,' said Rebecca,'and thy purthou ever been, yet would I have thee honourably  pose fairer; but it may not be-there is a gulf benet with.'' Thus-thus as I am, and not other- twixt us. Our breeding, our faith, alike forbid either
wise,' said Ivanhoe;'it is the judgment of God!-  to pass over it. Farewell!-yet, ere I go, indulge
to his keeping I commend myself.'"             me one request. The bridal veil hangs over thy
face; raise it, and let me see the features of which
We cannot make room for the whole of this fame speaks so highly.'-' They are scarce worthy
catastrophe.  The overtired horse of Ivanhoe  of being looked upon,' said Rowena;' but, expectfalls in the shock; but the Templar, though  ing the same from my visitant, I remove the veil.'scarcely touched by the lance of his adr-  She took it oaccordingly, and partly from the consary, reels, and falls also; —and when they  sciousness of beauty, partly from bashfulness, she
seek to raise him, is found to be utterly dead   blushed so intensely, that cheek, brow, neck, and
seekctimtoh is   fontndi to n beuttbosom, were suflfsed with crimson. Rebecca blusha victim to his own contending passions.        ed also, but it was a momentary feeling; and, masWe will give but one scene more-and it is tered by higher emotions, passed slowly from her
in honour of the divine Rebecca-for the fate of features like the crimson cloud, which changes co.
all the rest may easilybe divined. Richard for- lour when the sun sinks beneath the horizon.
gives his brother; and Wilfred we~ds Rowena.   A "'Lady, she said,'the countenance you have
deigned to show me will long dwell in my remem" It was upon the second morning after this happy  brance.'There reigns in it gentleness and goodbridal, that the Lady Rowena was made acquainted ness; and if a tinge of the world's pride or vanities
by her handmaid Elgitha, that a damsel desired ad- may mix with an expression so lovely, how may we
mission ta her presence, and solicited that their par- chide that which is of earth for bearing some colour
ley migat be without witness. Rowena wondered, of its original? Long, long shall I remember your
hesitated, became curious, and ended by command- features, and bless God that I leave my noble deing the damsel to be admitted, and her attendants liverer united with'-She stopped short-her eyes
to withdraw.-She entered-a noble and command- filled with tears. She hastily wiped them, and aning figure; the long white veil in which she was swered to the anxious inquiries of Rowena-' I am
shrouded, overshadowing rather than concealing  well, lady-well. But my heart swells when I think
the elegance and majesty of her shape. Her de- of Torquilstone and the lists of Templestowe!meanour was that of respect, unmingled by the Farewell! One, the most trifling part of my duty,
leaat shade either of fear, or of a wish to propitiate remains undischarged. Accept this casket-startle
favour. Rowena was ever ready to acknowledge not at its contents.'-Rowena opened the small si:
the claims, and attend to the feelings of others. She ver-chased casket, and perceived a carcanet, or
arose, and would have conducted the lovely stranger necklace, with ear-jewels, of diamonds, which were
to a seat; but she looked at Elgitha, and again in- visibly of immense value.-' It is impossible,' she
timated a wish to discourse with the Lady Rowena said, tendering back the casket,' I dare not accept




542                              WORKS OF FICTION.
a gift of such consequence.'-' Yet keep it, lady,' or Cynocephali. The interest we do take is in
returned Rebecca.-' Let me not think you deem  the situations-and the extremes of peril, heso wretchedly ill of my nation as your commons believe. Think ye that I prize these sparkling frag- rosmn 
ments of stone above my liberty? or thatmy father tude of the fiction enables the author to invalues them in comparison to the honour of his only dulge.  Even with this advantage, we soon
child? Accept them, lady-to me they are valueless. feel, not only that the characters he brings beI will never wear jewels more.'-' You are then fore us are contrary to our experience, but that
unhappy,' said Rowena, struck with the manner in they are actually impossible.  There could in
which Rebecca uttered the last words. l 0, remain fact have been no such state of society as that
with us-the counsel of holy men will wean you of which the story before us professes to give
from your unhappy law, and I will be a sister to of which the story before us professes to give
you.'-' No, lady,' answered Rebecca, the same us but samples and ordinary results.  In a
calm melancholy reigning in her soft voice and beau- country beset with such worthies as Front-detiful features,-' that may not be. I may not change Bceuf, Malvoisin, and the rest, Isaac the Jew
the faith of my fathers, like a garment unsuited to could neither have grown rich, nor lived to old
the climate in which I seek to dwell; and unhappy,  and no Rebecca could either have ac
lady, I will not be. He, to whom I dedicate my
future life, will be my comforter, if I do His will.'- quired her delicacy, or preserved her honour.'Have you then convents, to one of which you Neither could a plump Prior Aymer have folmean to retire?' asked Rowena.-' No, lady,'said lowed venery in woods swarming with the
the Jewess;'but among our people, since the time merry men of Robin Hood.-Rotherwood must
of Abraham downward, have been women who have been burned to the ground two or three
have devoted their thoughts to Heaven, and their   in every yea
actions to works of kindness to men, tending the times n  every year-and all the knights and
sick, feeding the hungry, and relieving the distress- thanes of the land been killed off nearly as
ed. Among these will Rebeccabe nunbered. Say often. The thing, in short, when calmlyconthis to thylord, should he inquire after the fate of sidered, cannot be received as a reality; and,
her whose life he saved!' —There was an involun- aftergazing for a while on the splendid pageant
tary tremor in Rebecca's voice, and a tenderness which it presents, and admiring theexaggerof accent, which perhaps betrayed more than she rated beings who counterfeit, in their grand
would willingly have expressed. She hastened to  beings who counterfeit in
bid Rowena adieu. —' Farewell,' she said,' may  style, the passions and feelings of our poor huHe, who made both Jew and Christian, shower man nature, we soon find that we must turn
down on you his choicest blessings!'         again to our Waverleys, and Antiquaries. and
"She glided from the apartment, leaving Rowena Old Mortalities, and become acquainted with
surprised as if a vision had passed before her. The our neighbous and ourselves, and  our dutiest
fair Saxon related the singular conference to her   ghbours and ourselves and our duties
husband, on whose mind it made a deep impression. and dangers, and true felicities, in the exquiHe lived long and happily with Rowena; for they site pictures which our author there exhibits
were attached to each other by the bonds of early of the follies we daily witness or display, and
affection, and they lovedweach other the more, from  of the prejudices, habits, and affections, by
recollection of the obstacles which had impeded which we are still hourly obstructed, governtheir union. Yet it would be inquiring too curiously  ed or cheered.
to ask, whether the recollectioni of Rebecca's beauty ed or cheered.
and magnanimity did not recur to his mind more    We end, therefore as we began-by prefrequently than the fair descendant of Alfred might ferring the home scenes, and the copies of
altogether have approved."                    originals which we know-but admiring, in
the highest degree, the fancy and judgment
The work before us shows at least as much  and feeling by which this more distant and
genius as any of those w; h -, hich it must now  ideal prospect is enriched.  It is a splendid
be numbered-an'd excites, perhaps, at least Poem-and contains matter enough for six
on the first perusal, as strong an interest: But gQod Tragedies.  As it is, it will make a gloit does not delight so deeply-and we rather rious melodrame for the end of the season.think it will not please so long. Rebecca is Pevrhaps the author does better-for us and
almost the only lovely being in the story-and  for himself-by writing more novels: But we
she is evidently a creature of the fancy-a have an earnest wish that he would try his
mere poetical personification.  Next to her-  hand in the actual bow of Shakespeare —venfor Isaac is but a milder Shylock, and by no ture fairly within his enchanted circle-and
means more natural than his original-the  reassert thte Dramatic Sovereignty of England,
heartiest interest is excited by the outlaws and by putting forth a genuine Tragedy of passion,
their merry chief-because the tone and man- fancy, and incident. He has all the qualificaners ascribed to them are more akin to those tions to insure success* —except perhaps the
that prevailed among the yeomanry of later art of compression; —for we suspect it would
days, than those of the Knights, Priors, and  cost him no little effort to confine his story,
Princes, are to any thing with which a more and the development of his characters, to
recent age has been acquainted.-Cedric the some fifty or sixty small pages. But the atSaxon, with his thralls, and Bois-Guilbert the tempt is worth making; and he may be cerTemplar with his Moors, are to us but theoreti- tain that he cannot fail without glory.
cal or mythological persons. We know nothing about them-and never feel assured that   * We take it for granted, that the charming exwe fully comprehend their drift, or enter tracts from  "Old Plays," that are occasionally
rightly into their feelings.  The same genius given as mottoes to the chapters of this and some
which now busies us with their concerns, of his other works, are original compositions of the
might have excited an equal interest for the  author whose prose they garnish:-and they show
that he is not less a master of the most beautiful
adventures of Oberon and Pigwiggin-or for style of Dramatic versification, than of all the highea
any imaginary community of Giants, Amazons, and more inward secrets of that forgotten art.




WAVERLEY NOVELS.                                54.
(3nner, 1822.)
The "1zirtac tf Nigel. By the Author of "Waverley,"' Kenilworth," &c. In 3 vols.
12mo. pp. 950. Edinburgh: Constable & Co. 1822.
IT was a happy thought in us to review this I merely notice one or two things that still live
author's works in groups, rather than in single in our remembrance.
pieces; for we should never otherwise have   We do not think the White Lady, and the
been able to keep up both with him and with other supernatural agencies, the worst blemish
our other business. Even as it is, we find we of "The Monastery."  On the contrary, the
have let him run so far ahead, that we have first apparition of the spirit by her lonely
now rather more of him on hand than we can fountain (though borrowed from Lord Byron's
well get through at a sitting; and are in dan- Witch of the Alps in Manfred), as well as the
ger of forgetting the early part of the long effect of the interview on the mind of the
series of stories to which we are thus obliged young aspirant to whom she reveals herself,
to look back, or of finding it forgotten by the have always appeared to us to be very beaupublic-or at least of having the vast assem- tifully imagined: But we must confess, that
blage of events and characters that now lie their subsequent descent into an alabaster
before us something jumbled and confounded, cavern, and the seizure of a stolen Bible from
both in our own recollections, and that of our an altar blazing with cold flames, is a fiction
admiring readers.                        of a more ignoble stock; and looks very like
Our last particular notice, we think, was of an unlucky combination of a French fairy tale
Ivanhoe, in the end of 1819; and in the two and a dull German romance. The Euphuist
years that have since elapsed, we have had too, Sir Piercie Shafton, is a mere nuisance
the Monastery, the Abbot, Kenilworth, the throughout. Nor can we remember any inPirates, and Nigel,-one. two, three, four, five cident in an unsuccessful farce more utterly
-large original works from the same fertile absurd and pitiable, than the remembrance
and inexhaustible pen. It is a strange manu- of tailorship that is supposed to be conjured
facture! and, though depending entirely on up in the mind of this chivalrous person, by
invention and original fancy, really seems to the presentment of the'fairy's bodkin to his
proceed with all the steadiness and regularity  eyes..There is something ineffably poor at
a thing that was kept in operation by in- once, and extravagant, in the idea of a solid
dustry and application alone.  Our whole silver implement being taken from the hair of
fraternity, for example, with all the works of a spiritual and shadowy being. for the sage
all other writers to supply them with mate- purpose of making an earthly coxcomb angry
rials, are not half so sure of bringing out their to no end; —while our delight at this happy
two volumes in the year, as this one author, imagination is not a little heightened by rewith nothing but his own genius to depend flecting that it is all the time utterly unintellion, is of bringing out his six or seven. There gible, how the mere exhibition of a lady's
is no instance of any such experiment being bodkin should remind any man of a tailor in
so long continued with success; and, accord- his pedigree-or be thought to import such a
ing to all appearances, it is just as far from a disclosure to the spectators.
termination now, as it was at the beginning.   But, notwithstanding these gross faults, and
If it were only for the singularity of the thing, the general flatness of the monkish partsit w6uld be worth while to chronicle the ac- including that of the Sub-prior, which is a
tual course and progress of this extraordinary failure in spite of considerable labour-it
adventure.                               would be absurd to rank this with common
Of the two first works we have mentioned, novels, or even to exclude it from the file of
the Monastery and the Abbot, we have the the author's characteristic productions. It has
least to say; and we believe the public have both humour, and fancy and pathos enough,
the least curiosity to know our opinion. They to maintain its title to such a distinction.are certainly the least meritorious of the whole The aspiring temper of Halbert Glendinning,
series, either subsequent or preceding; and the rustic establishment of Glendearg, the
while they.are decidedly worse than the other picture of Christie of Clinthill, and, above all
works of the same author, we are not sure the scenes at the castle of Avenel, are all
that we can say, as we have done of some of touched with the hand of a master. Julian's
his other failures, that they are better than dialogue, or soliloquy rather, to his hawk, in
those of any other recent writer of fiction.-  presence of his paramour, with its accompaniSo conspicuous, indeed, was their inferiority, ments and sequel, is as powerful as any thing
that we at one time Apprehended that we the author has produced; and the tragic and
should have been called upon to interfere historical scenes that lead to the conclusion
oefore our time, and to admonish the author are also, for the most part, excellent. It is a
of the hazard to which he was exposing his work, in short, which pleases more upon a
tame. But as he has since redeemed that second reading than at first-as we not only
Wlip, we shall now pass it over lightly, and pass over the Euphuism and other dull pas




544                            WORKS OF FICTION.
sages, but, being aware of its defects no sparing fulness, but with the most brilliant
longer feel the disappointment and provoca- and seducing effect. Leicester is less happy;
lion which are apt, on their first excitement, and we have certainly a great deal too much
to make us unjust to its real merits.     both of the blackguardism of Michael LamIn point of real merit, " The Abbot" is not bourne, the atrocious villany of Varney and
much better, we think, than the Monastsry-  Fostert and the magical dealings of Alasco
but it is fuller of historical painting, and, in and Wayland Smith. Indeed, almost all the
the higher scenes, has perhaps a deeper and lower agents in the.performance have a sort
more exalted interest. The Popish zealots. of Demoniacal character; and the deep and
whether in the shape of prophetic crones or disgusting guilt by which most of the main
heroic monks, are very tiresome personages. incidents are developed, make a splendid pasCatherine Seyton is a wilful deterioration of sage of English history read like the Newgate
Diana Vernon, and is far too pert and con- Calendar, and give a certain horror to the
fident; while her paramour Roland Gramme is, story, which is neither agreeable to historical
for a good part of the work, little better than truth, nor attractive in a work of imagination.
a blackguard boy, who should have had his   The great charm.and glory of the piece
head broken twice a day, and been put nightly however, colsists in the magnificence and
in the' stocks, for his impertinence. Some of vjvacity of the descriptions with which it
the scenes at Lochleven are of a different aounds; and which set before our eyes, with
pitch; —though the formal and measured sar- a!freshness and force of colouring which can
casms which the Queen and Lady Douglas scarcely ever be gained except by actual obinterchange with such solemn verbosity, have servation, all the pomp and stateliness. the
a very heavy and unnatural effect. These glitter and solemnity, of that heroic reign.
faults. however, are amply redeemed by the The moving picture of Elizabeth's night entry
beauties with which they are mingled. There to Kenilworth is given with such spirit, richare some grand passages, of enthusiasm and ness. and copiousness of detail, that we seem
devoted courage, in Catherine Seyton. The actually transported to the middle of the
escape from Lochleven is given with great scene. Wefeel the press, and hear the music
effect and spirit-and the subsequent muster- and the din-and descry, amidst the fading
ing of the Queen's adherents, and their march lights of a summer eve, the majestical pacings
to Langside, as well as the battle itself, are and waving banners that surround the march
full of life and colouring. The noble bearing of the heroic Queen; while the mixture of
and sad and devoted love of George Douglas ludicrous incidents, and the ennui that steals
-the brawl on the streets of Edinburgh, and on the lengthened parade and fatiguing prepathe scenes at Holyrood, both serious and ration, give a sense of truth and reality to the
comic, as well as many of the minor charac- sketch that seems to belong rather to recent
ters, such as the Ex-abbot of St. Mary's me- recollection than mere ideal conception. We
tamorphosed into the humble gardener of believe, in short, that we have at this moment
Lochleven, are all in the genuine manner of as lively and distinct an impression of the
the author, and could not have proceeded from  whole scene, as we shall have in a few weeks
any other hand. On the whole, however, the of a similar Joyous Entry, for which preparawork is unsatisfactory, and too deficient in tions are now making  in this our loyal medesign and unity. We do not know why it tropolis,-and of which we hope, before that
should have been called "The Abbot," as time, to be spectators. The account of Leithat personage has scarcely any thing to do cester's princely hospitality, and of the royal
with it. As an historical sketch, it has nei- divertisements that ensued. —the feastings
ther beginning nor end;-nor does the time and huntings, the flatteries and dissemblings,
which it embraces possess any peculiar inter- the pride, the jealousy, the ambition, the reest:-and for a history of Roland Graeme, venge,-are all portrayed with the same aniwhich is the only denomination that can give mating pencil, and leave every thing behind,
it coherence, the narrative is not only far too but some rival works of the same unrivalled
slight and insignificant in itself, but is too artist. The most surprising piece of mere
much broken in upon by higher persons and description, however, that we have ever seen,
weightier affairs, to retain any of the interest is that of Amy's magnificent apartments at
which it might otherwise have possessed.    Cumnor Place, and of the dress and beauty
"Kenilworth," however, is a flight of an- of the lovely creature for whom they wete
other wing-and rises almost, if not alto- adorned. We had no idea before that upgether, to the level of Ivanhoe;-displaying, holstery and millinery could be made so enperhaps, as much power in assembling to- gaging; and though we are aware that it is
gether, and distributing in striking groups, the living Beauty that gives its enchantment
the copious historical materials of that ro- to the scene, and breathes over the whole an
mantic age, as the other does in eking (ut air of voluptuousness, innocence, and pity, it
their scantiness by the riches of the author's is impossible not to feel that the vivid and
imagination. Elizabeth herself, surrounded clear presentment of the visible objects by
as she is with lively and imposing recollec- which she is surrofhded, and the antique
tions, was a difficult personage to bring promi- splendour in which she is enshrined, not only
nently forward in a work of fiction: But the strengthen our impressions of the reality, but
task, we think, is here not only fearlessly,
but admirably performed; and the character   * The visit of George IV. to Edinburgh in July,
brought out. not merely with the most un- 1822.




WAVERLEY NOVELS.                                 545
actually fascinate and delight us in them- friend in the favour of the honest Udall]r.
selves,-just as the draperies and still-life in The charm of the book is in the pictuI, of
a gland historical picture often divide our ad- his family.; Nothing can be more beautiful
miration with the pathetic effect of the story than the description of the two sisters, and
told by the principal figures. The catastro- the gentle and innocent affection that conphe of the unfortunate Amy herself is too tinues to unite them, even after love has come
sickening and full of pity to be endured; and to divide their interests and wishes. The visit
we shrink from the recollection of it, as we paid them  by Norna, and the tale she tells
would from that of a recent calamity of our them at midnight, lead to a fine display of
own. The part of Tressilian is unfortunate on the perfect purity of their young hearts, and
the whole, though it contains touches of in- the native gentleness and dignity of their
terest and beauty. The sketch of young Ra- character. There is, perhaps, still more geleigh is splendid, and in excellent keeping nius in the development and full exhibition of
with every thing beside it. More, we think, their father's character; who is first introduced
might have been made of the desolate age to us as little else than a jovial, thoughtless,
and broken-hearted anguish of Sir Hugh Rob- hospitable housekeeper, but gradually dissart; though there are one or two little traits closes the most captivating traits, not only of
of his paternal love and crushed affection, kindness and courage, but of substantial genethat are inimitably sweet and pathetic, and rosity and delicacy of feeling, without ever
which might have lost their effect, perhaps, departing, for an instant, from the frank homeif the scene had been extended. We do not liness of his habitual demeanour. Norna is a
care much about the goblin dwarf, nor the host, new incarnation of Meg Merrilees, and palpanor the mercer,-nor any of the other charac- bly the same in the spirit. Less degraded in
ters. They are all too fantastical and affected. her habits and associates, and less lofty and
They seem copied rather from the quaintness pathetic in her denunciations, she reconciles
of old plays, than the reality of past and pres- fewer contradictions, and is, on the wholes
ent nature; and serve better to show what inferior perhaps to her prototype; but is far
manner of personages were to be met with in above the rank of a mere imitated or borrowed
the Masks and Pageants of the age, than what character. The Udaller's visit to her dwellwere actually to be found in the living popu- ing on the Fitful-head is admirably managed,
tation of the land.                       and highly characteristic of both parties. Of
" The Pirates'" is a bold attempt to furnish the humorous characters, Yellowlees is the
out a long and eventful story, from a very nar-; best. Few things, indeed, are better than
row circle of society, and a scene so circum- the description of his equestrian progression
scribed as scarcely to admit of any great scope' to the feast of the Udaller. Claud Halcro is
or variety of action; and its failure, in so far too fantastical; and peculiarly out of place,
as it -may be thought to have failed, should, we should think, in such a region. A man
in fairness, be ascribed chiefly to this scanti- who talks in quotations from common plays,
ness and defect of the materials. The author, and proses eternally about glorious John Dry.
accordingly, has been obliged to borrow pretty den, luckily is not often to be met with anylargely from other regions. The character where, but least of all in the Orkney Islands.
and story of Mertoun (which is at once com- Bunce is liable to the same objection,-though
mon-place and extravagant), —that of the. there are parts of his character, as well as
Pirate himself,-and that of Halcro the poet, that of Fletcher and the rest of the crew,
have no connection with the localities of Shet- given with infinite spirit and effect. The de-.
land. or the peculiarities of an insular life. nouement of the story is strained and im-.
Mr.'Yellowlees, though he gives occasion to probable, and the conclusion rather unsatissome strong contrasts, is in the same situa- factory: But the work, on the whole, opens
tion. The great blemish, however, of the up a new world to our curiosity, and affords
work, is the inconsistency in Cleveland's another proof of the extraordinary pliability,
character, or rather the way in which he dis- as well as vigour, of the author's genius.
appoints us, by turning out so much better   We come now to the work which has afthan we had expected-and yet substantially forded us a pretext for this long retrospection,
so ill. So great, indeed, is this disappoint- and which we have approached, as befitteth;
ment, and so strong the grounds of it, that we a royal presence, through this long vista of
cannot help suspecting that the author him. preparatory splendour. Considering that it'
self must have altered his design in the course has now been three months in the hands of
of the work; and, finding himself at a loss the public-and must be about as well known
how to make either a demon or a hero of the to most of our readers as the older works to.
personage whom he had introduced with a which we have just alluded-we do not very
view to one or other of these characters, be- well see why we should not deal with it as
took himself to the expedient of leaving him  summarily as we have done with them; and.
in that neutral or mixed state, which, after sparing our dutiful readers the fatigue of toilall, suits the least with his conduct and situa- ing through a detail with which they are altion, or with the effects which he is supposed ready familiar, content ourselves with marking.
to produce. All that we see of him is a dar- our opinion of it in the same general and:
ing, underbred. forward, heartless fellow-  comprehensive manner that we have ventured'
very unlikely, we should suppose, to capti- to adopt as to those earlier productions. This
vate the affections of the high-minded, ro- accordingly is the course which, in the main
mantic Minna, or even to supplant an old we propose to follow; though, for the sake of
85~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~'




546                           WORKS OF FICTION.
our distant readers, as well as to give more rests. A propos of this retirement, we have
force and direct application to our general re- a very striking and animated picture of the
marks, we must somewhat enlarge the scale bullies and bankrupts, and swindlers and p'tty
of our critical notice.                  felons by whom this city of refuge was chiefly
This work, though dealing abundantly in inhabited-and among whom the young Lord
invention, is, in substance, like Old Mortality has the good luck to witness a murder, comand Kenilworth, of an historical character, mitted on the person of his miserly host. He
and may be correctly represented as an at- then bethinks himself of repairing to Greentempt to describe and illustrate, by examples, wich, where the court was, throwing himself
the manners of the court. and generally speak- upon the clemency of the King, and insisting
ing, of the age, of James I. of England. And on being confronted with his accusers; but
this, on the whole, is the most favourable as- happening unfortunately to meet with his
pect under which it can be considered; for. Majesty in a retired part of the Park to which
while it certainly presents us with a very he had pursued the stag, ahead of all his atbrilliant; and, we believe, averyfaithful sketch tendants, his sudden appearance so startles
of the manners and habits of the time, we and alarms that pacific monarch, that he accannot say that it either embodies them in a cuses him of a treasonable design on his life,
very interesting story, or supplies us with any and has him committed to the Tower, under
rich variety of particular characters. Except that weighty accusation. In the mean time,
King James himself, and Richie Moniplies, however, a certain Margaret Ramsey, a daughthere is but little individuality in the person- ter of the celebrated watchmaker of that name,
ages represented. We should perhaps add who had privately faUen in love with him at
Master George Heriot; except that he is too the table of George Heriot her god-father, and
staid and prudent a person to engage very had, ever since, kept watch over his proceedmuch of our interest. The story is of a very ings, and aided him in his difficulties by vasimple structure, and may soon be told.  rious stratagems and suggestions, had repaired
Lord Glenvarloch, a young Scottish noble- to Greenwich in male attire, with the romanman, whose fortunes had been ruined by his tic design of interesting and undeceiving the
father's profusion, and chiefly by large loans King with regard to him. By a lucky accito the Crown, comes to London about the mid- dent, she does obtain an opportunity of making
dle of James' reign, to try what part of this her statement to James; who, in order to put
debt may be recovered from the justice of his her veracity to the test, sends her, disguised
now opulent sovereign. From want of patron- as she was, to Glenvarloch' s prison in the
age and experience, he is unsuccessful in his Tower, and also looses upon him in the same
first application; and is about to withdraw in place, first his faithful Heriot, and afterwards
despair, when his serving man. Richard Moni- a sarcastic courtier, while he himself plays
plies, falling accidentally in the way of George the eavesdropper to their conversation, from an
Heriot, the favourite jeweller and occasional adjoining apartment constructed for that purbanker of the King, that benevolent person (to pose. The result of this Dionysian experiwhom, it may not be known to our Southern ment is, to satisfy the sagacious monarch both
readers, Edinburgh is indebted for the most of the innocence of his young countryman,
flourishing and best conducted of her founded and the malignity of his accusers; who are
schools or charities) is pleased to take an in- speedily brought to shame by his acquittal
terest in his affairs, and not only represents and admittance to favour.
his case in a favourable way to the Sovereign,   There is an underplot of a more extravagant
but i~ the means of introducing him to another and less happy structure, about a sad and
nobleman, with whose son, Lord Dalgarno, he mysterious lady who inhabits an inaccessible
speedily forms a rather inauspicious intimacy. apartment in Heriot's house, and turns out to
By this youth he is initiated into all the gaie- be the deserted wife of Lord Dalgarno, and a
ties of the town; of which, as well of the near relation of Lord Glenvarloch. The former
manners and bearing of the men of fashion of is compelled to acknowledge her by the King,
the time, a very lively picture is drawn. very much against his will; though he is conAmong other things, he is encouraged to try siderably comforted when he finds that, by
his fortune at play; but, being poor and pru- this alliance, he acquires right to an ancient
dent, he plays but for small sums, and, rather mortgage over the lands of the latter, which
unhandsomely we must own, makes it a prac- nothing but immediate payment of a large
tice to come away after a moderate winning. sum can prevent him from foreclosing. This
On this account he is slighted by Lord Dal- is accomplished by the new-raised credit and
garno and his more adventurous associates; consequential agency of Richie Moniplies,
and, having learned that they talked con- though not without a scene of pettifogging
temptuously of him, and that Lord D. had difficulties. The conclusion is something traprejudiced the King and the Prince against gical and sudden. Lord Dalgarno, travelling
him, he challenges him for his perfidy in the to Scotland with the redemption-money in a
Park, and actually draws on him, in the pre- portmanteau, challenges Glenvarloch to meet
cincts of the royal abode. This was, in those and fight him, one stage from town; and
days, a very serious offence: and, to avoid its while he is waiting on the common, is him
immediate consequences, he is advised to take self shot dead by one of the Alsatian bullies
refuge in Whitefriars, then known by the cant who had heard of the precious cargo witl
name of Alsatia. and understood to possess the which he was making the journey. His an
privileges of a sanctuary against ordinary ar- tagonist comes up soon enough to reveng,




WAVERLEY NOVELS.                                 b47
lim; and, soon after, is married to Miss Ram- wits as think the commentators on Shakesey, for whom the King finds a suitable pedi- speare the greatest men in the world, and here
gree, and at whose marriage-dinner he conde- find their little archeological persons made
scends to preside; while Richard Moniplies something less inconceivable than usual, they
marries the heroic daughter of the Alsatian cannot fail to offend and disappoint all those
miser, andbis knighted in a very characteristic who hold that nature alone must be the source
manner by the good-natured monarch.       of all natural interest.
The best things in the book, as we have   Finally we object to this work, as comalready intimated, are the pictures of King pared with those to which we have alluded
James and of Richard Moniplies-though my that the interest is more that of situation. and
Lord Dalgarno is very lively and witty, and less of character or action, than in any of the
well represents the gallantry and profligacy former. The hero is not so much an actor or
of the time; while the worthy Earl, his father, a sufferer, in most of the events represented,
is very successfully brought forward as the as a spectator. With comparatively little to
type of the ruder and more uncorrupted age do in the business of the scene, he is merely
that preceded. We are sorely tempted to pro- placed in the front of it, to look on with the
duce a sample of Jin Vin the smart apprentice, reader as it passes. He has an ordinary and
and of the mixed childishness and heroism of slow-moving suit at court-and, a propos of
Margaret Ramsay, and the native loftiness this-all the humours and oddities of the
and austere candour of Martha Trapbois, and sovereign are exhibited in rich and splendid
the humour of Dame Suddlechops, and divers detail. He is obliged to take refuge for a day
other inferior persons. But the rule we have in Whitefriars-and all the horrors and atrolaid down to ourselves, of abstaining from  cities of the Sanctuary are spread out before
citations from well-known books. must not be us through the greater part of a volume. Two
farther broken, in the very hour of its enact- or three murders are committed, in which he
ment;-and we shall therefore conclude, with has no interest, and no other part than that of
a few such general remarks on the work be- being accidentally present. His own scanty
fore us as we have already bestowed on some part, in short, is performed in the vicinity of
other performances, probably no longer so a number of other separate transactions; and
familiar to most of our readers.          this mere juxtaposition is made an apology
We do not think, then, that it is a work for stringing them all up together into one hiseither of so much genius or so much interest torical romance. We should not care very
as Kenilworth or Ivanhoe, or the earlier his- much if this only destroyed the unity of' the
torical novels of the same author-and yet piece-but it also sensibly weakens its interest
there be readers who will in all likelihood -and reduces it from the rank of a comDreprefer it to those books, and that for the very hensive and engaging narrative, in which
reasons which induce us to place it beneath every event gives and receives importance
them. These reasons are,-First, that the from its connection with the rest, to that of a
scene is all in London-and that the piece is mere collection of sketches, relating to the
consequently deprived of the interest and same period and state of society.
variety derived from the beautiful descriptions   The character of the hero, we also think,
of natural scenery, and the still more beautiful is more than usually a failure. He is not only
combination of its features and expression, a reasonable and discreet person, for whose
with the feelings of the living agents, which prosperity we need feel no great apprehen
abound in those other works; and next, that sion, but he is gratuitously debased by certain
the characters are more entirely borrowed infirmities of a mean and somewhat sordid
from  the written memorials of the age to description, which suit remarkably ill with
which they refer, and less from that eternal the heroic character. His prudent deportand universal nature which is of all ages, ment at the gaming table, and his repeated
than in any of his former works. The plays borrowings of money, have been already
of that great dramatic era, and the letters and hinted at; and we may add, that when inmemoirs which have been preserved in such terrogated by Heriot about the disguised damabundance, have made all diligent readers sal who is found with him in the Tower, he
familiar with the peculiarities by which it was makes up a false story for the occasion, with
marked. Butunluckily the taste of the writers a cool promptitude of invention, which reof that age was quaint and fantastical; and minds us more of Joseph Surface and his
though their representations necessarily give French milliner, than of the high-minded son
us a true enough picture of its fashions and of a stern puritanical Baron of Scotland.
follies, it is obviously a distorted and exagge-   These are the chief faults of the work, and
rated picture-and their. characters plainly they are not slight ones. Its merits do not
both speak and act as no living men ever require to be specified. They embrace all
(lid speak or act. Now, this style of carica- to which we have not specially objected. The
ture is too palpably copied in the work before general brilliancy and force of the colouring,
us,-and, though somewhat softened and re- the ease and spirit of the design, and the
laxed by the good sense of the author, is still strong touches of character, are all such as
so prevalent, that most of his characters strike we have have long admired in the best works
us rather as whimsical humourists or affected of the author. Besides the King and Richie
maskers, than as faithful copies of the actual Moniplies, at whose merits we have already
society of any historical period; and though hinted, it would'be unjust to pass over the
they may afford great delight to such slender prodigious strength of writing that distiul




58                              -WORKS OF FICTION.
guishes the part of Mrs. Martha Trapbois, and between the vulgar gossipping of Mrs. Quickly
the inimitable scenes, though of a coarse and in the merry Wives of Windsor, and the
revolting complexion, with Duke Hildebrod atrocities of Mrs. Turner and Lady Suffolk;
and the miser of Alsatia.  The Templar and it is rather a contamination of Margaret's
Lowestoffe, and Jin Vin, the aspiring appren- purity to have used such counsel.
tice, are excellent sketches of their kind.   We have named them all now, or nearlySo are John Christie and his frail dame. Lord and must at length conclude. Indeed, nothing
Dalgarno is more questionable. There are but the fascination of this author's pen, and
passages of extraordinary spirit and ability in the difficulty of getting away from him, could
this part; but he turns out too atrocious. Sir have induced us to be so particular in our
Mungo Malagrowther wearies us from the notices of a story, the details of which will so
beginning, and so does the horologist Ramsay soon be driven out of our heads by other de-because they are both exaggerated and un- tails as interesting-and as little fated to be renatural characters. We scarcely see enough membered. Thereare othertwo books coming,
of Margaret Ramsay to forgive her all her ir- we hear, in the course of the winter; and by
regularities, and her high fortune; but a great the time there are four or five, that is, in about
deal certainly of what we do see is charm- eighteen months hence, we must hold ouringly executed. Dame Ursula is something selves prepared to give some account of them,.
(Qttober, 1823.)
1. Annals of the Parish, or the Chronicle of Dalmailing, during the Ministry of the Rev
MicahBalwhidder. Written byHimself. 1 vol. 12mo. pp. 400. Blackwood. Edin.: 1819
2. The Ayrshire Legatees, or the Pringle Family. By the Author of " Annals of the Parish,'
&c.  1 vol. 12mo. pp. 395. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1820.
3. The Provost. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish," "Ayrshire Legatees," &c
1 vol. 12mo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1820.
4. Sir Andrew Wyllie of that Ilk. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish," &c. 3 vols
12mo. Blackwood. Edin.: 1822.
5. The Steam Boat. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish," &c.  1 vol. 12mo. Black
wood. Edinburgh: 1822.
6. The Entail. or the Lairds of Grippy. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish," 1"Sii
-Andrew Wyllie," &c. 3 vols. 18mo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1823.
7. Ringan Gilhaize, or the Covenanters. By the Author of "Annals of the Parish," &o.
3 vols. 12mo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1823.
8. Valerius, a Roman Story. 3 vols. 12mo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1820.
9. Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life. 1 vol. 8vo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1822.
10. Some Passages in the Life of Mr. Adam Blair, Minister of the Gospel at Cross-Meikle
1 vol. 8vo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1822.
11. The Trials of Margaret Lyndsay. By the Author of "Lights and Shadows of Scottish
Life." 1 vol. 8vo. Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1823.
12. Reginald Dalton. By the Author of "Valerius," and "Adam  Blair."  3 vols. 8vo
Blackwood. Edinburgh: 1823.*
WnE have been sometimes accused, we ob- set of lively and popular works, that have at.
serve, of partiality to the writers of our own tracted, and very deservedly, a large share of
country, and reproached with helping mid- attention in every part of the empire-issuing
dling Scotch works into notice, while far more from the press, successively for four or five
meritorious publications in England and Ire- years, in this very city, and under our eyes,
land have been treated with neglect. We and not hitherto honoured by us with any intake leave to say, that there could not possi- dication of our being even conscious of their
bly be a more unjust accusation: and the list existence. The causes of this long neglect it
of books which we have prefixed to this arti- can now be of no importance to explain. But
cle, affords of itself, we now conceive, the sure we are, that our ingenious countrymen
most triumphant refutation of it. Here is a have far greater reason to complain of it, than
any aliens can have to impute this tardy repa.
* I have retained most of the citations in this ration to national partiality.
article: —the books from which they are taken not   The
being so universally known as those of Sir Walter  works th          are endently too
Scott-and yet deserving, I think, of being thus numerous to admit of our now giving more
recalled to the attention of general readers. The than a very general account of them: —and
whole seem to have been originally put out anony- indeed, some of their, authors emulate their
mously:-But the authorship has been long ago great prototype so successfully in the rapid
acknowledged;-so that it is scarcely necessary br succession of their performances, that, even
me to mention that the first seven in the list-are the
works of the late Mr. Galt, Valerius and Adam if they had not been so far ahead of us at the
Blair of Mr. Lockhart-and the Lights and Sha- starting, we must soon have been reduced to
dows. and Margaret Lindsay, of Professor Wilson. deal with them as we have done with him,




SCOTCH NOVELS.                                  549
and only to have noticed their productions casm, and a more distinct moral, or unity of
when they had grown up into groups and fa- didactic purpose, in most of his writings, than
milies-as they increased and multiplied in it would be easy to discover in the playful, cathe land. In intimating that we regard them  pricious, and fanciful sketches of his great
as imitations of the inimitable novels,-which master.
uwe, who never presume to peep under masks,   The other two authors have formed themstill hold to be by an author unknofwn,-we selves more upon the poetical, reflective, and
have already exhausted more than half their pathetic parts of their common model; and
general character. They are inferior certainly have aimed at emulating such beautiful pic(and what is not?) to their great originals. tures as that of Mr. Peter Pattison, the blind
But they are the best copies which have old women in Old Mortality and the Bride of
yet been produced of them; and it is not Lammermoor, the courtship at the Mermaida little creditable to the genius of our be- en's Well, and, generally, his innumerable
loved country, that, even in those gay and and exquisite descriptions of the soft, simple
airy walks of literature from which she had and sublime scenery of Scotland, as viewed
been so long estranged, an opening was no in connection with the character of its better
sooner made, by the splendid success of one rustic population. Though far better skilled
gifted Scotsman, than many others were found than their associate, in the art of composition,
ready to enter upon them, with a spirit of en- and chargeable, perhaps, with less direct imiterprise, and a force of invention, that prom- tation, we cannot but regard them as much
ised still farther to extend their boundaries-  less original, and as having performed, upon
and to make these new adventurers, if not form- the whole a far easier task. Thev have no
idable rivals, at least not unworthy followers great variety of style, and but little of actual
of him by whose example they were roused. invention,-and are mannerists in the. strongest
There are three authors, it seems, to the sense of that term. Though unquestionably
works now before us;-so at least the title- pathetic in a very powerful degree, they are
pages announce; and it is a rule with us, to pathetic, for the most part, by the common
give implicit faith to those solemn intimations. recipes, which enable any one almost, to draw
We think, indeed, that without the help of tears, who will condescend to employ them.
that oracle, we should have been at no loss to They are mighty religious too,-but appaascribe all the works which are now claimed rently on the same principle; and. while their
by the author of the Annals of the Parish, to laboured attacks on our sympathies are felt, at
one and the same hand; But we should cer- last, to be somewhat importunate and puerile,
tainly have been inclined to suppose, that their devotional orthodoxies seem  to tend,
there was only one author for all the rest,-  every now and then, a little towards cant.
with the exception, perhaps, of Valerius, This is perhaps too harshlysaid; andis more,
which has little resemblance, either in sub- we confess, the result of the second ieading
stance or manner, to any of those with which than the first; and suggested rather by a corn
it is now associated.                      parison with their great original, than an im
In the arduous task of imitating the great pression of their own independent merits.
novelist, they have apparently found it neces- Compared with that high standard, it is imsary to resort to the great principle of division possible not to feel that they are somewhat
of labour; and yet they have not, among wanting in manliness, freedom, and liberality;
them, been able to equal the work of his single and, while they enlarge, in a sort of pastoral,
hand! The author of the Parish Annals seems emphatic, and melodious style, on the virtues
to have sought chiefly to rival the humorous of our cottagers, and the apostolical sanctity
and less dignified parts of his original; by of our ministers and elders, the delights of
large. representations of the character and pure affection, and the comforts of the Bible,
manners of the middling and lower orders in are lamentably deficient in that bold and free
Scotland, intermingled with traits of sly and vein of invention, that thorough knowledge
sarcastic sagacity, and occasionally softened of the world, and rectifying spirit of good
and relieved by touches of unexpected ten- sense, which redeem all that great author's
derness and simple pathos, all harmonised by flights from the imputation either of extravathe same truth to nature and fine sense of gance or affectation, and give weight, as well
national peculiarity.  In these delineations as truth, to his most poetical delineations of
there is, no doubt, more vulgarity, both of nature and of passion. But, though they canstyle and conception, and less poetical inven- not pretend to this rare merit, which has
tion, than in the corresponding passages of scarcely fallen to the share of more than one
the works he aspires to imitate; but, on the since the days of Shakespeare, there is i1o
other hand, there is more of that peculiar doubt much beautiful writing, much admihumour which depends on the combination of rable description, and much both of tender
great naivete, indolence, and occasional ab- and of lofty feeling, in the volumes of whichb
surdity, with natural good sense, and taste, we are now speaking; and though their infe
and kind feelings in the principal characters-  rior and borrowed lights are dimmed in the
such combinations as Sir Roger de Coverley, broader blaze of the luminary, who now fills
the Vicar of Wakefield, and My Uncle Toby, our Northern sky with his glory, they still hold
have made familiar to all English readers, but their course distinctly within the orb of his at
of which we have not hitherto had any good traction, and make a visible part of the splen
Scottish representative.  There is also more. dour which draws to that quarter of the hea
systematic, though very good-humoured, sar- vens the admiration of so many distant eyes




550                               WORKS OF FICTION.
We must now, however, say a word or two  preponderate over the tragic a a ornomic genius
on the particular works we have enumerated; of the author.  That character is, as we have
among which, and especially in the first series, already hinted, as happily conceived as it is
there is a very great difference of design, as admirably executed-contented, humble, and
well as inequality of merit.  The first with perfectly innocent and sincere-very orthodox,
which we happened to become acquainted, and zealously Presbyterian, without learning
and, after all, perhaps the best and most in- or habits of speculation-soft-hearted and full
teresting of the whole, is that entitled "An- of indulgence and ready sympathy, without
nals of the Parish,; comprising in one little any enthusiasm or capacity of devoted attachvolume of about four hundred pages the do- ment-given to old-fashioned prejudices, with
mestic chronicle of a worthy minister, on the an instinctive sagacity in practical affairs —
coast of Ayrshire, for a period of no less than  and unconsciously acute in detecting the charfifty-one years, from  1760 to 1810.  The acters of others, and singularly awake to the
primitive simplicity of the pastor's character, beauties of nature, without a notion either of
tinctured as it is by his professional habits and  observation or of poetry-very patient and
sequestered situation, form  but a part of the primitive in short, indolent and gossiping, and
attraction of this work.  The brief and natural scarcely ever stirring either in mind or person,
notices of the public events which signalised beyond the limits of his parish.  The style
the long period through which it extends, and  of the book is curiously adapted to the charthe slight and transient effects they produced  acter of the supposed author-very genuine
on the tranquil lives and peaceful occupations homely Scotch in the idiom  and many of the
of his remote parishioners, have not only a expressions -but tinctured with scriptural
natural, we think, but a moral and monitory  phrases, and some relies of college learningeffect; and, while they revive in our own and all digested in the grave and methodical
breasts the almost forgotten impressions of our order of an old-fashioned sermon.
childhood and early youth, as to the same    After so much praise, we are rather afraid
transactions, make us feel the actual insignifi- to make any extracts —for the truth is, that
cance of those successive occurrences which, there is not a great deal of matter in the book,
each in its turn, filled the minds of his con- and a good deal of vulgarity-and that it is
temporaries,-and the little real concern which  only good-natured people, with something of
the bulk of mankind have in the public history  the annalist's own simplicity, that will be as
of their day. This quiet and detailed retro- much pleased with it as we have been.  For
spect of fifty years, brings the true moment the sake of such persons, however. we will
and value of the events it embraces to the venture on a few  specimens.  Here is the
test, as it were, of their actual operation on description of Mrs. Malcolm.
particular societies; and helps to dissipate the
illusion, by which private persons are so fre-   "Secondly. I have now to speak of the coming
quently led to suppose, that they have a per- of Mrs. Malcolm. She was the widow of a Clyde
sonal interest in the wisdom  of cabinets, or shipmaster, that was lost at sea with his vessel. She
theona interest   in the wisdom  of abinets ior was a genty body, calm and methodical.  From
the madness of princes. The humble sim- morning to night she sat at her wheel, spinning the
plicity of the -chronicler's character assists, no finest lint, which suited well with her pale hands.
doubt, this sobering effect of his narrative. She never changed her widow's weeds, and she
The natural and tranquil manner in which he  was aye as if she had just been ta'en out of a bandputs down great things by the side of little- box. The tear was aflien in her e'e when the bairns
and considers as exactly otn the same level, were at the school; but when they came home, her
spirit was lighted up with gladness, although, poor
the bursting of the parish mill-dam and the  woman, she had many a time very little to give
commencement of the American troubles-  them. They were, however, wonderful well-bred
the victory of Admiral Rodney and the dona- things, and took with thankfulness whatever she
tion of 501. to his kirk-session,-are all equally  set before them, for they knew that their father, the
edifying and agreeable; and illustrate, in a breadwinner, was away, and that she had to work
sore for their bit and drap. I dare say, the only
very pleasing way, that law of intellectual, as vexation that ever she had from any of' them, on
well as of physical optics, by which small their own account, was when Charlie, the eldest
things at hand uniformly appear greater than  laddie, had won fourpence at pitch and toss at the
large ones at a distance.                      school, which he brought home with a proud heart
The great charm  of the work, however, is to his mother. I happened to be daunrin' bye at
in the tiraits of character which it d~iscloses,  the time, and just looked in at the door to say gude
in  the traits of character which it discloses, night. And there was she sitting with the silent
and the commendable brevity with which  tear on her cheek, and Charlie greeting as if he had
the whole chronicle is digested.  We know  done a great fault, and the other four looking on
scarcely any instance in which a modern  with sorrowful faces. Never, I am sure, did Charlie
writer has shown such forbearance and con- Malcolm gamble after that night.
sideration for his readers. With very consider-   *I often wondered what brought Mrs. Malcolm
able powers of humour, the ludricous incidents to our clachan, instead of going to a populous town,
able powers of humour the ludricous incidents where she might have taken up a'huxtry-shop, as
are never dwelt upon with any tediousness, she was but of a silly constitution, the which would
nor pushed to the length of burlesque or caric- have been better for her than spinning from morning
ature-and  the more seducing touches of to far in the night, as if she was in verity drawing
pathos with which the work abounds, are the thread of lite. But it was, no doubt, from an
intermingled and cut short, with the same honest pride to hide her poverty; for when her
esparmingld arnd j udicious hand w-sotha the ter   daughter Effie was ill with the measles-the poor
sparing and judicious hand;-so that the tem- lassie was very ill-nobody thought she could come
perate and natural character of the pastor is through; and when she did get the turn, she was
thus; by a rare merit and felicity, made to for many a day a heavy handful;-our session being




SCOTCH NOVELS.                                        55
rich, and nobody on it but cripple Tammy Daidles, thought it was but a foreign hawk, with a yellowA
that was at that time known through all the country  head and green feathers."-Ibid. pp. 44, 45.
side for begging on a horse, I thought it my duty to
call upon Mrs. Malcolm in a sympathising way, and    The good youth gets into the navy, and dis,
offer her some assistance-but she refused it.' No, tinguishes himself in various actions. This is
sir,' said she.' I canna take help from the poor's the catastrophe.
box, although it's very true that I am in great need;
for it might hereafter be cast up to my bairns, whom    " But, oh! the wicked wastry of life in war! In
it may please God to restore to better circumstances less than a month after, the news came of a victory
when I am no to see't; but I would fain borrow  over the French fleet, and by the same post I got a
five pounds, and if, sir, you will write to Mr. Mait- letter from Mr. Howard, that was the midshipman
land, that is now the Lord Provost of Glasgow, and who came to see us with Charles, telling me that
tell him that Marion Shaw would be obliged to poor Charles had been mortally wounded in the achim for the lend of that soom, I think he will not tion, and had afterwards died of his wounds.' He
fail to send it.'                               was a hero in the engagement,' said Mr. Howard,
" I wrote the letter that night to Provost Mait-' and he died as a good and a brave man should.'land, and, by the retour of the post, I got an answer, These tidings gave me one of the sorest hearts 1
with twenty pounds for Mrs. Malcolm, saying,'that ever suffered; and it was long before I could gather
it was with sorrow he heard so small a trifle could  fortitude to disclose the tidings to poor Charles'
be serviceable.' When I took the letter and the mother. But the callants of the school had heard of
money, which was in a bank-bill, she said,' This the victory, and were going shouting about, and had
is just like himsel.' She then told me, that Mr. set the steeple bell a-ringing, by which Mrs. MalMaitland had been a gentleman's son of the east colm heard the news; and knowing that Charles'
country, but driven out of his father's house, when ship was with the fleet, she came over to the Manse
a laddie, by his step-mother; and that he had served in great anxiety, to hear the particulars, somebody
as a servant lad with her father, who was the Laird  telling her that there had been a foreign letter to me
of Yillcogie, but ran through his estate, and left by the post-man.
her, his only daughter, in little better than beggary    "When I saw her I could not speak, but looked
with her auntie, the mother of Captain Malcolm, at her in pity! and the tear fleeing up into my eyes,
her husband that was. Provost Maitland in his she guessed what had happened. After giving a
servitude, had ta'en a notion of her; and when he deep and sore sigh, she inquired,' How did he berecovered his patrimony, and had become a great have? I hope well, for he was aye a gallant ladGlasgow merchant, on hearing how she was left by die!'-and then she wept very bitterly. However,
her father, he offered to marry her, but she had  growing calmer, I read to her the letter, and when
promised herself to her cousin the Captain, whose I had done, she begged me to give it her to keep,
widow she was. He then married a rich lady, and saying,' It's all that I have now left of my pretty
in time grew, as he was, Lord Provost of the City: boy; but it's mair precious to me than the wealth
but his letter with the twenty pounds to me, showed  of the Indies;' and she begged me to return thanks
that he had not forgotten his first love. It was a to the Lord, for all the comforts and manifold mershort, but a well-written letter, in a fair hand of cies with which her lot had been blessed, since the
write, containing much of the true gentleman; and  hour she put her trust in Him alone, and that was
Mrs. Malcolm said,' Who knows but out of the when she was left a pennyless widow, with her five
regard he once had for their mother, he may do fatherless bairns. It was just an edification of the
something for my five helpless orphans.' " —Annals  spirit, to see the Christian resignation of this worof the Parish, pp. 16-21.                       thy woman.  Mrs. Balwhidder was confounded,
and said, there was more sorrow in seeing the deep
Charles afterwards goes to sea, and comes grief of her fortitude, than tongue could tell.
home unexpectedly.                                1" Having taken a glass of wine with her, I walked out to conduct her to her own house, but in the
"One evening, towards the gloaming, as I was way we met with a severe trial. All the weans
taking my walk of meditation, I saw a brisk sailor were out parading with napkins and kail-blades on
laddie coming towards me. He had a pretty green  sticks, rejoicing and triumphing in the glad tidings
parrot, sitting on a bundle, tied in a Barcelona silk  of victory. But when they saw me and Mrs. Malhandkerchief, which he carried with a stick over his colm coming slowly along, they guessed what had
shoulder, and in this bundle was a wonderful big  happened, and threw away their banners of joy;
nut, such as no one in our parish had ever seen. It and, standing all up in a row, with silence and sadwas called a cocker-nut. This blithe callant was ness, along the kirk-yard wall as we passed, showCharlie Malcolm, who had come all the way that ed an instinct of compassion.that penetrated to my
day his leaful lane, on his own legs from Greenock, very soul. The poor mother burst into fresh afflicwhere the Tobacco trader was then'livering her tion, and some of the bairns into an audible weepcargo. I told him how his mother, and his brothers, ing; and, taking one another by the hand, they foland his sisters were all in good health, and went to lowed us to her door, like mourners at a funeral.
convoy him home; and as we were going along, he Never was such a sight seen in any town before.
told me many curious things: and he gave me six The neighbours came to look at it, as we walked
beautiful yellow limes, that he had brought in his along; and the men turned aside to hide their faces,
pouch all the way across the seas, for me to make  while the mothers pressed their babies fondlier to
a bowl of punch with! and I thought more of them  their bosoms, and watered their innocent faces with
than if they had been golden guineas-it was so their tears.
mindfill of the laddie.                           "I prepared a suitable sermon, taking as the
" When we got to the door of his mother's house, words of my text,' Howl, ve ships of Tarshish, for
she was sitting at the fire-side, with her three other your strength is laid waste.' But when I saw arouna
bairns at their bread and milk, Kate being then with  me so many of my people, clad in complimentary
Lady Skimmilk, at the Breadland, sewing. It was mourning for the gallant Charles Malcolm, and that
between the day and dark, when the shuttle stands even poor daft Jenny Gaffaw, and her daughter, had
still till the lamp is lighted, But such a shout of joy  on an old black ribbon; and when I thought of him,
and thankfulness as rose from that hearth, when      spirited laddie, coming home from Jamaica, with
Charlie went in! The very parrot, ye would have his parrot on his shoulder, and his limes for me, my
thought, was a participator, for the beast gied a heart filled fill, and I was obliged to sit down in the
skraik that made my whole head dirl; and the pulpit and drop a tear.'"-ibid. pp. 214-218.
neighbours came flying and flocking to see what
was the matter, fobr it was the first parrot ever   We like these tender passages the besteen within the bounds of the parish, and some but the reader should have a specimen of tne




%52                                WORKS OF FICTION.
humorous vein also.  The following we think  a cartel, took up a dancing-school at Irevillo, the
excellent.                                      which art he had learned in the genteelest fashion,
in the mode of Paris, at the French court. Such a
"In the course of the summer, just as the roof thing as a dancing-school had never, in the memory
was closing in of the school-house, my lord came to of man, been known in our country side; and there
the castle with a great company, and was not there  was such a sound about the-steps and cotillions of
a day till he sent for me to come over on the next Mr. Macskipnish, that every lad and lass, that could
Sunday, to dine with him; but I sent him word that spare time and siller, went to him, to the great neI could not do so, for it would be a transgression of glect of their work. The very bairns on the loan,
the Sabbath; which made him send his own gentle- instead of their wonted play, gaed linking and loup.
man, to make his apology for having taken so great ing in the steps of Mr. Macskipnish, who was, to be
a liberty with me, and to beg me to come on the sure, a great curiosity, with long spindle legs, his
Monday, which I accordingly did, and nothing could  breast shot out like a duck's, and his head powderbe better than the discretion with which I was used. ed and firizzled up like a tappit-hen. He was, inThere was a vast company of English ladies and  deed, the proudest peacock that could be seen, and
gentlemen, and his lordship, in a most jocose man- he had a ring on his finger, and when he came to
ner, told them all how he had fallen on the midden, drink his tea at the Breadland, he brought no hat on
and how I had clad him in my clothes, and there  his head, but a droll cockit thing under his arm,
was a wonder of laughing and diversion: But the  which, he said, was afier the manner of the courtiers
most particular thing in the company, was a large, at the petty suppers ofone Madame Pumpadour, wbo
round-faced man, with a wig, that was a dignitary  was at that time the concubine of the French king.
in some great Episcopalian church in London, who    " I do not recollect any other remarkable thing
was extraordinary condescending towards me, that happened in this year. The harvest was very
drinking wine with me at the table, and saying abundant, and the meal so cheap, that it caused a
weighty sentences in a fine style of language, about great defect in my stipend, so that I was obligated to
the becoming grace of simplicity and innocence of postpone the purchase of a mahogany scrutoire for
heart, in the clergy of all denominations of Chris- my study, as I had intended. But I had not the
tians, which I was pleased to hear; for really he heart to complain of this; on the contrary, I rejoiced
had a proud red countenance, and I could not have thereat, for what made me want my scrutoire till
thought he was so mortified to humility within, had another year, had carried blitheness into the hearth
I not heard with what sincerity he delivered him- of the cotter, and made the widow's heart sing with
self, and seen how much reverence and attention  joy; and I would have been an unnatural creature,
was paid to him by all present, particularly by my had I not joined in the universal gladness, because
lord's chaplain, who was a pious and pleasant young  plenty did abound."-Ibid. pp. 30-32.
divine, though educated at Oxford for the Episco.
palian persuasion.                                We shall only try the patience of our read" One day soon after, as I was sitting in my  ers farther with the death of Nanse Banks, the
closet conning a sermon for the next Sunday, I was old parish school-mistress.
surprised by a visit from the dean, as the dignin a weak and frail state,
was called. He had come, he said, to wait on me                      in
as rector of the parish, for so it seems they call a but, being a methodical creature, still kept on the
pastor in England, and to say, that, if it was agree- school, laying the foundation for many a worthy wife
able, he would take a family dinner with us before and mother. However, about the decline of the
he left the castle. I could make no objection to his year her complaints increased, and she sent for me
kindness, but said I hoped my lord would come to consult about her iving up the school; and I
with him, and that we would do our best to enter- went to see her on a Saturday afternoon, when the
tain them with all suitable hospitality. About an bit lassies, her scholars, had put the house in order,
hour or so after he had returned to the castle, one of and gone home till the Monday.
the flunkies brought a letter from his lordship to " She was sitting in the window-nook, reading
say, that not only he would colne with the dean, THE WORD to herself, when I entered; but she closbut that they would bring the other gtuests with  ed the book, and put her spectacles in for a mark
them, and that, as they could only dritnk London  when she saw me: and, as it was expected I would
wine, the butler would send me a hamper in the come, her easy chair, with a clean cover, had been
morning, assured, as he was pleased to say, that Mrs. set out for me by the scholars, by which I discerned
Balwhidder would otherwise provide good cheer. that there was something more than common to'his notification, however, wvas a great trouble  happen, and so it appeared when I had taken my
to my wife, who  was only used to manufacture te  eat.Sir, said she,'w hae sent for you on a thing
troubles me sairly. I have warsled with poortith in
produce of our glebe and yard to a profitable pur- this shed, which  I have warsle d with poortith in
pose, and not used to the treatment of deans and  this shed, which t has pleased the Lord to allow me
lords, and other persons of quality. However, she  to possess; but my strength is worn out, and I fear
was determined t6 stretch a point on this occasion, I mann yield in the strife;' and she wiped her eye
and we had, as all present declared, a charming  with her apron. I told her, however, to be of good
dinner; for fortunately one of the sows had a litter cheer; and then she said,'  that she could no longer
of pigs a few days before, and, in addition to a goose, and ready to lay he school; and that she was weary,
that is but a boss bird, we had a roasted pig, with  and re
an apple in its mouth, which was just a curiosity to  was pleased to permit. But,' continued she,
see; and my lord called it a tythe pig, but I told   what can I do without the school? and, alas! I
him it was one of Mrs. Balwhidder's own clecking, can neither work nor want; and I am wae to go on
which saying of mine made no little sport when  the Session, for I am come of a decent fanlily.  I
expounded to the dean."-Annals of the Parish, comforted her, and told her, that I thought she had
pp. 136-141.                                    done so much good in the parish, that the Session
was deep in her debt, and that what they might
We add the description of the first dancing- give her was but a just payment for her service.'I
master that had been, seen in these parts in  would rather, however, sir,' said she,' try first
the year 1762.                                  what some of my auld scholars will do, and it was
for that I wanted to speak with you. If some of
"Also a thing happened in this year, which de- them would but just, from  time to time, look in
-serves: to be recorded, as manifesting what effect the upon me, that I may not die alane; and the little
smuggling was beginning to take on the morals of pick and drap that I require would not be hard upon
the country side. One Mr. Macskipnish, of High- them-I am more sure that in this way their gratiland parentaae, who had been a valet-de-chambre  tude would be no discredit, than I am of having any
with a Major in the campaigns, and taken a prisoner claim on the Session.'
with him by the French, he having come home in    "As I had always a great respect for an honest




SCOTCH NOVELS.                                      8b3
pride, I assured her that I would do what she and on a level nearly with the Annals of the
wanted; and accordingly, the very morning after, Parish.  There is no inconsiderable resembeing Sabbath, I preached a sermon on the help- blance indeed it appears to us, in   e charlessness of them that have no help of man; mean-,    e it appears to us, in me charing aged single women, living in garret-rooms, acter of the two Biographies: for if:e subwhose forlorn state, in the gloaming of life, I made stitute the love of jobbing and little managemanifest to the hearts and understandings of the ment, which is inseparable from the situation
congregation, in such a manner that many shed of a magistrate in one of our petty Burghs,
tears, and went away sorrowful.
teHars, and went away sorrowful.            for the zeal for Presbyterian discipline which
Having thus roused the feelings of my people, used to attach to our orthodox clergy, and
I went round the houses on the Monday morning,
and mentioned what I had to say more particularly make a proper allowance for the opposite
about poor old Nanse Banks the schoolmistress, effects of their respective occupations, we
and truly I was rejoiced at the condition of the shall find a good deal of their remaining pehearts o my people. There was a universal sym- culiarities common to both those personages
pathy among them; and it was soon ordered that,       same kindness of nature with the same
what with one and another, her decay should be
provided for. But it was not ordained that she tranquillity of temper-and the same practishould be long heavy on their good will. On the cal sagacity, with a similar deficiency of large
Monday the school was given up, and there was views or ingenious speculations. The Provost,
nothing but wailing among the bit lassies, the to be sure, is a more worldly person than the
scholars, fobr getting the vacance, as the poor things Pastor, and makes no scruple about using insaid, because the mistress was going to lie down de   a
said, because the mistress was gong to lie down direct methods to obtain his ends, from which
to dee. And, indeed, so it came to pass; for she the simplicity of the other would have retook to her bed the same afternoon, and, in the the simplicity of the other would have recourse of the week, dwindled away, and slippet coiled; —but his ends are not, otl the whole
out of this howling wilderness into the kingdom of unjust or dishonest; and his good nature, and
heaven, on the Sabbath following, as quietly as a acute simplicity, with the Burghal authority
blessed saint could do. And here I should men- of his tone, would almost incline us to contion, that the Lady Macadam, when I told her of' clude that he was somehow  related to the
Nanse Barks' case, inquired if' she was a snuffer,as somehow  related to the
and, being answered by me that she was, her lady- celebrated Bailie Nicol Jarvie of the Saltship sent her a pretty French enamel box full of market! The style of his narrative is exMacabaw, a fine snuff that she had in a bottle; and, ceedingly meritorious; for while it is pitched
among the Macabaw, was found a guinea, at the on the self-same key of picturesque homelibottom of the box, after N anse Banks had departed ness and deliberate method with that of the
this life, which was a kind thing of Lady Macadam
to do.'"-A-nnals of the Parish, pp. 87-91.    parish Annalist, it is curiously distinguished
from it, by a sensible inferiority in literature,
The next of this author's publications; we and an agreeable intermixture of malaprops
believe, was "The Ayrshire Legatees," also  and other figures of rhetoric befitting  the
in one volume, and a work of great, and  composition of a loyal chief magistrate.  By
similar, though inferior merit, to the former. far the most remarkable and edifying thing,
It is the story of the proceedings of a worthy  however, in this volume, is the discovery,
Scottish clergyman and his family, to whom  which the worthy Provost is represented as
a large property had been unexpectedly be- having gradually made, of the necessity of
queathed by a relation in India, in the course consulting public opinion in his later transacof their visit to London to recover this prop- tions, and the impossibility of managing puberty.  The patriarch himself and his wife, lic affairs, in the present times, with the same
and his sonl and daughter. who form the party, barefaced assertion, and brave abuse, of auall write copious accounts of what they see, thority, which had been submitted to by a
to their friends in Ayrshire-and being all less instructed generation. As we cannot but
lowly and simply bred, and quite new to the suspect, that this great truth is not yet suffiscenes in which they are now  introduced, ciently familiar with all in authority among
make up among them  a very entertaining  us, and as there is something extremely enmiscellany, of original, naive and preposterous gaging in the Provost's confession of his slow
observations.  The idea of thus making a and' reluctant conversion, and in the honest
family club, as it were, for a varied and often  simplicity with which he avows his adherence
contradictory account of the same objects- to the principles of the old school of corrupeach tinging the picture with his own peculi- tion, though convinced that the manner of
arities, and unconsciously drawing his own advancing them  must now be changed, we
character in the course of the description, are tempted to extract a part of his lucubrawas first exemplified, we believe. in the Hum- tions on this interesting subject. After noticphrey Clinker of Smollett, and has been since ing the death of old Bailie M:Lucre, he takes
copied with success in the Bath Guide, Paul's occasion to observe:Letters to his Kinsfolk, the Fudge Family.
an  others to hn      genious pieces, both in prose and    " And now that he is dead and gone, and also all
and other ingenious piecepsboth in prose and  those whom I found conjunct with him, when I
verse.  Though the conception of the Ayr- first came into power and office, I may venture to
shire Legatees, however, is not new, the exe- say, that things in yon former times were not guided
cution and details must be allowed to be so thoroughly by the hand of a disinterested integoriginal; and, along with a good deal of rity as in these latter years. On the contrary, it
twdddle, and too much vulgarity, certainly  seenmed to be the use and wont of men In public
display very considerable powers both of  trusts, to think they were free to indemnify themhumour, inventions and acute observation,    selves, in a left-handed way, for the time and.humour invention, a nd acute observation.    trouble they bestowed in the same. But the thing
The author's next work is " The Provost,"   was not so far wrong in principle, as in the hugwhieh is decidedly better than the Legatees, germuggering way in which it was done, and which




554                                WORKS OF FICTION.
gave to it a guilty colour, that, by the judicious man to prosperity, in the sequestered traffic ot pri.
stratagem of a right system, it would never have vate life."-Ibid. pp. 315, 316.
had. And, sooth to say, through the whole course
of my public life, I met with no greater difficulties    Trusting that these lessons from a person
and trials, than in cleansing myself from the old of such prudence, experience, and loyalty,
habitudesof office. For I must, in verity, confess, will not be lost on his successors, we shall
that I myself partook, in a degree, at my beginning, now indulge ourselves by quoting a few speciof the caterpillar nature, &c.-While, therefore, I    of what will generally be regarded as
think it has been of a great advantage to the public  es more iteresting style  and, with our usual
to have survived that method of administration in
which the like of Bailie M'Lucre was engendered, predilection for the tragic vein, shall begin
I would not have it understood that I think the with the following very touching account of
men who held the public trust in those days a whit the execution of a fair young woman for the
less honest than the men of' my own time. The murder of her new-born infant.
spirit of their own age was upon them, as that of'
ours is upon us; and their ways of working the    "The heinousness of the crime can by no possiwherry entered more or less into all their traffick- bility be lessened; but the beauty of the mother,
ing, whether for the commonality, or for their own her tender years, and her light-headedness, had
particular behoof and advantage.                won many favourers, and there was a great leaning
" I have been thus large and frank in my re- in the hearts of all the town to compassionate her,
flections anent the death of the Bailie, because, especially when they thought of the ill example that
poor man, he had outlived the times for which he had been set to her in the walk and conversation of
was qualified; and instead of the merriment and her mother. It was not, however, within the power
jpcularity that his wily by-hand ways used to cause of the magistrates to overlook the accusation; so
among his neighbours, the rising generation began  we were obligated to cause a precognition to be
to pick and dab at him, in such a manner, that, had taken, and the search left no doubt of the wilfuilness
he been much longer spared, it is to be feared he of the murder. Jeanie was in consequence removed
would not have been allowed to enjoy his earnings to the Tolbooth, where she lay till the lords were
both with ease and honour."                     coming to Ayr, when she was sent thither to stand
The Provost, pp. 171-174.   her trial before them; but, from the hour she did
Accordingly, afterwards, when a corps of the deed, she never spoke.
ccordingy afterwards when a corps of  Her trial was a short procedure, and she was
volunteers was raised in his Burgh, he ob- cast to be hanged-and not only to be hanged, but
serves-                                         ordered to be executed in our town, and her body
given to the doctors to make an Atomy. The exe" I kept myself aloof from  all handling in the cution of Jeanie was what all expected would happecuniaries of the business; but I lent a friendly  pen; but when the news reached the town of the
countenance to every feasible project that was likely  other parts of the sentence, the wail was as the
to strengthen the confidence of the King in the sough of a pestilence, and fain would the council
loyalty and bravery of his people. For by this have got it dispensed with. But the Lord Advocate
time I had learnt, that there was a wakerife Com- was just wud at the crime, both because there had
mon Sense abroad among the opinions of men; been no previous concealment, so as to have been
and that the secret of the new way of ruling the an extenuation for the shame of the birth, and beworld, was to follow, not to control, the evident cause Jeanie would neither divulge the name of the
dictates of the popular voice; and I soon had rea- father, nor make answer to all the interrogatories
son to felicitate myself on this prudent and season- that were put to her, standing at the bar like a
able discovery; for it won me great reverence dumbie, and looking round her, and at the judges,
among the forward young men, who started up at like a demented creature-and beautiful as a Flanthe call of their country.-The which, as I tell ders baby! It was thought by many that her adfrankly, was an admonition to me, that the peremp- vocate might have made great use of her visible
tory will of authority was no longer sufficient for consternation, and plead that she was by herself;
the rule of mankind; and, therefore, I squared my  for in truth she had every appearance of being so.
after conduct more by a deference to public opinion, He was, however, a dure man, no doubt well
than by any laid down maxims and principles of my  enough versed in the particulars and punctualities
own. The consequence of' which was, that my  of the law for an ordinary plea, but no of the right
influence still continued to grow and gather strength  sort of knowledge and talent to take up the case
in the community, and I was enabled to accomplish  of a forlorn lassie, misled by ill example and a winmany things that my predecessors would have some nature, and clothed in the allurement of love.
thought it was almost beyond the compass of man  liness, as the judge himself said to the jury.
to undertake."-Ibid. pp. 208-217.                 " On the night before the day of execution, she
was brought over in a chaise from Ayr between
Upon occasion of his third and last promo- two town-officers, and placed again in our hands,
motion in. the Provostry, he thus records his and still she never spoke. Nothing could exceed
own final conversion.                           the compassion that every one had for poor Jeanie;
so she was na committed to a common cell, but
" When I returned home to my own house, I laid in the council room, where the ladies of the
retired into my private chamber for a time, to con- town made up a comfortable bed for her, and some
sult with myself in what manner my deportment of them sat up all night and prayed fobr her: But
should be regulated; fobr I was conscious that here- her thoughts were gone, and she sat silent. In the
tofore I had been overly governed with a disposition  morning, by break of day, her wanton mother that
to do things my own way; and although not in an had been trolloping in Glasgow came to the Tol.
avaricious temper, yet something, I must confess, booth door, and made a dreadful wally waeing; and
with a sort of sinister respect for my own interests. the ladies were obligated, for the sake of peace, to
It may be, that standing now clear and free of the bid her be let in. But Jeanie noticed her not, still
world, I had less incitement to be so grippy, and so sitting with her eyes cast down, waiting the coining
was thought of me, I very well know; but in so. on of the hour of her doom.
briety and truth I conscientiously affirm, and herein    " There had not been an execution in the town
record, that I had lived to partake of the purer spirit in the memory of the oldest person then living; the
which the great mutations of the age had conjured  last that suffered was one of the martyrs in the
into public affairs; and I saw that there was a ne- time of the persecution, so that we were not skilled
oessity to carry into all dealings with the concerns in the business, and had besides no hangman, but
of the community, the same probity which helps a were necessitated to borrow the Ayr one. Indeed




SCOTCh NOVELS.                                        55
1 being the youngest bailie, was in terror that the could extend the arm of protection. Seeing no
obligation might have fallen on me. A scaffold  abatement of the wrath of heaven, that howled
was erected at the Tron just under the Tolbooth  and roared around us, I put on my big coat, and
windows, by Thomas Gimblet, the Master-of work, taking my staff in my hand, having tied down my
who had a good penny of profit by the job; for he hat with a silk handkerchief, towards gloaming I
contracted with the town council, and had the boards walked likewise to the kirklyard, where I be!:'
after the business was done to the bargain; but such an assemblage of sorrow, as few men in situThomas was then deacon of the wrights, and him-  ation have ever been put to the trial to witness.
self a member of our body.                        "In the lea of the kirk many hundreds of the
"At the hour appointed, Jeanie, dressed in white, town were gathered together; but there was no
was led out by the town-officers, and in the midst discourse among them.'Ihe major part were saiof the magistrates from among the ladies, with her lors' wives and weans, and at every new thud of
hands tied behind her with a black ribbon. At the the blast, a sob rose, and the mothers drew theit
first sight of her at the Tolbooth stairhead, a uni- bairns closer in about them, as if they saw the
versal sob rose from all the multitude,and the stern- visible hand of a foe raised to smite them. Apart
est ee could na refrain from shedding a tear. We from the multitude, I observed three or four young
marched slowly down the stair, and on to the foot lasses, standing behind the Whinnyhill faumilies;
of the scaffold, where her younger brother, Willy, tomb, and I jealoused that they had joes in the
that was stable-boy at my lord's, was standing by ships, for they often looked to the bay, with long
himself, in an open ring made round him in the necks and sad faces, from behind the monument.
crowd; every one compassionating the dejected  But of all the piteous objects there, on that doleful
laddie, for he was a fine youth, and of an orderly  evening, none troubled my thoughts more than
spirit. As his sister came towards the foot of the three motherless children, that belonged to the
ladder, he ran towards her, and embraced her with  mate of one of the vessels in the jeopardy. He
a wail of sorrow that melted every heart, and made was an Englishman that had been settled some
us all stop in the middle of our solemnity. Jeanie  years in the town, where his family had neither
looked at him (for her hands were tied), and asilent kith nor kin; and his wife having died about a
tear was seen to drop from her cheek. But in the  month before, the bairns, of whom the eldest was
course of little more than a minute, all was quiet, but nine or so, were friendless enough, though
and we proceeded to ascend the scaffold. Willy, both my gudewife, and other well-disposed ladies,
who had by this time dried his eyes, went up with  paid them all manner of attention till their father
ius, and when Mr. Pittle had said the prayer, and  would come home. The three poor little things,
sung the psalm, in which the whole multitude join- knowing that he was in one of the ships, had been
ed, as it were with the contrition of sorrow, the often out and anxious, and they were then sitting
hangman stepped forward to put on the fatal cap, under the lea of a headstone, near their mother's
but kWilly took it out of his hand, and placed it on grave, chittering and creeping closer and closer at
his sister himself, and then kneeling down, with his every squall! Never was such an orphan-like
back towards her, closing his eyes and shutting his sight seen.
ears with his hands, he saw not nor heard when    " When it began to be so dark, that the vessels
she was launched into eternity!                could no longer be discerned from the churchyard,' When the awful act was over, and the stir was many went down to the shore, and I took the three
for the magistrates to return, and the body to be babies home with me, and Mrs. Pawkie made tea
cut down, poor Willy rose, and, without looking  for them, and they soon began to play with our own
round, went down the steps of the scaffold; the younger children, in blythe forgetfulness of the
multitude made a lane for him to pass, and he went storm; every now and then, however, the eldest
on through them hiding his face, and gaed straight of them, when the shutters rattled, and the lumout of the town." —The Provost, pp. 67-73.      head roared, would pause in his innocent daffing,
and cower in towards Mrs. Pawkie, as if he was
This is longer than we had expected-and  daunted and dismayed by something he knew not
therefore, omitting all the stories of his wiles what.
and jocosities, we shall take our leave of the    "Many a one that night walked the sounding
Provost. with his very pathetic and picturesque  shore in sorrow, and fires were lighted along it to a
great extent, but the darkness and the noise of the
description of the catastrophe of the WindY  raging deep, and the howling wind, never intermitYule, which we think would not discredit the  ted till abbut midnight; at which time a message
pen of the great novelist himself.              was brought to me, that it might be needful to send
a guard of soldiers to the beach, for that broken
"In the morning, the weather was blasty and  masts and tackle had come in, and that surely some
sleety, waxing more and more tempestuous, till of the barks had perished. I lost no timein obey.
about mid-day, when the wind checked suddenly  ing this suggestion, which was made to me by one
round from the nor-east to the sou-west, and blew  of the owners of the Louping Meg; and to show
a gale, as if the prince of the powers of the air was that I sincerely sympathised with all those in afflicdoing his utmost to work mischief. The rain blat- tion, I rose and dressed myself, and went down to
tered,.the windows clattered, the shop shutters flap- the shore, where I directed several old boats to be
ped, pigs from the lum-heads came rattling down  drawn up by the fires, and blankets to be brought,
like thunder-claps, and the skies were dismal both  and cordials prepared, for them that might be spared
with cloud and carry. Yet, for all that, there was with life to reach the land; and I walked the beach
in the streets a stir and a busy visitation between  with the mourners till the morning.
neighbouA, and every one went to their high win-   " As the day dawned, the wind began to abate
dows to look at the five poor barks, that were wars- in its violence, and to wear away from the sou-west
ling against the strong arm of the elements of the into the norit; but it was soon discovered, that
storm and the ocean.                            some of the vessels with the corn had perished!
"Still the lift gloomed, and the wind roared; and  for the first thing seen, was a long fringe of tangle
it was aa doleful a sight as ever was seen in any  and grain, along the line of the highwater mark
town afflicted with calamity, to see the sailor's and every one strained with greedy and grieved
wives, with their red cloaks about their heads, fol- eyes, as the daylight brightened, to discover which
lowed by their hirpling and disconsolate bairns, had suffered. But I can proceed no farther with
going one after another to the kirkyard, to look at the dismal recital of that doleful morning! Let it
the vessels where their helpless breadwinners were suffice here to be known, that, through the haze,
battling with the tempest. My heart was really  we at last saw three of the vessels lying on their
sorrowful, and full of a sore anxiety to think of beam-ends, with their masts broken, and the waves
what might happen to the town, whereof so many  riding like the furious horses of destruction over
were in peril, and to whom no human magistracy  them. What had become of the other two, was




556                              NWORKS OF FICTION.
never known; but it was supposed that they had is the last, in so far as we know, of this ready
foundered at their anchors, and that all on board writer's publications; and is a bold attempt
perished.
perishe  day being now Sabbath, and the whole to emulate the fame of the Historical novels
" The day being now Sabbath, and the wholea striking
town idle, every body in a manner was down on of his original; and to combine a striking
the beach, to help, and mourn, as the bodies, one sketch of great public occurrences, with the
after another, were cast out by the waves. Alas! details of individual adventure.  By the asfew were the better of my provident preparation, sistance of his grandfather's recollections,
and it was a thing not to be described, to see, for which fill nearly half the book, the he-o conmore than a mile along the coast, the new-made
widows and fatherless bairns, mourning and weep- tves to embrace the period both of t
ing over the corpses of those they loved! Seventeen ormation from Popery, n the Rein of Queen
bodies were, before ten o'clock, carried to the deso- Mary, and of the sufferings of the Covenanters
lated dwellings of their families; and when old from that of King Charles till the Revolution.
Thomas Pull, the betherel, went to ring the bell But with all the benefit of this wide range,
for public worship, such was the universal sorrow  and the interest of those great events, we
of the town, that Nanse Donsie, an idiot natural, cannot say that he has succeeded in making
ran up the street to stop him, crying, in the voice
of a pardonable desperation,' Wha, in sic a time, a good book; or shown any spark of that spirit
can praise the Lord?' "-The Provost, pp. 177-184. which glows in the pages of Waverley and
Old Mortality. The work,-however, is written
The next work on our list is the history of with labour and care: and, besides a full nar"Sir Andrew Wylie," in three volumes-and  rative of all the remarkable passages of our
this, we must say; is not nearly so good as any ecclesiastical story, from the burning of Mr.
of the former.  It contains, however, many Wishart at St. Andrew's, to the death of Dunpassages of great interest and originality, and  dee at Killicrankie, contains some animated
displays, throughout, a power which we think  and poetical descriptions of natural scenery,
ought naturally to have produced something and a few sweet pictures of humble virtue
better; but the story is clumsily and heavily  and piety.  Upon the whole, however, it is a
managed, and the personages of polite life heavy work-and proves conclusively, that
very unsuccessfully dealt with. The author's the genius of the author lies much more in
great error, we suspect, was in resolving to the quieter walks of humorous simplicity, inhave three volumes instead of one-and his termixed with humble pathos, than the lofty
writing, which was full of spirit, while he paths of enthusiasm  or heroic emotion.  In
was labouring to confine his ideas within the the first part we meet with nothing new or
space assigned to them, seems to have.be- remarkable, but the picture of the Archbishop
come flat and languid, the moment his task of St. Andrews' luxurious dalliance with his
was to find matter to fill that space.        paramour, and of the bitter penitence and
His next publication, however, though only  tragical death of that fair victim of his seducin one volume, is undoubtedly the worst of tions, both which are sketched with considerthe whole-we allude to the thing called the able power and effect. In the latter part,
" The Steam-Boat," which has really no merit there is some good and minute description of
at all; and should never have been trans- the perils and sufferings which beset the poor
planted from the Magazine in which we are fugitive Covenanters, in the days of their long
informed it first made its appearance.  With  and inhuman persecution. The cruel desolathe exception of some trash about the Corona- tion of Gilhaize's own household is also given
tion, which nobody of course could ever look  with great force and pathos; as well as the deat three months after the thing itself was scription of that irresistible impulse of zeal and
over, it consists of a series of vulgar stories; vengeance that drives the sad survivor to rush
with little either of probability or originality alone to the field of Killicrankie, and to repay
to recommend them. The attempt at a paral- at last, on the head of the slaughtered victor
lel or paraphrase on the story of Jeanie Deans, of that fight, the accumulated wrongs and opis, without any exception, the boldest and the pressions of his race. But still the book is tiremost unsuccessful speculation we have ever some, and without effect. The narrative is neiseen in literary adventure.                  ther pleasing nor probable, and the calamities
The piece that follows, though in three are too numerous, and too much alike; while
volumes, is of a far higher order —and though  the uniformity of the tone of actual suffering
m many points unnatural, and on the whole and dim religious hope, weighs like a load on
rather tedious, is a work undoubtedly of no the spirit of the reader. There is no interest)rdinary merit. We mean "The Entail."  It ingcomplication of events or adventure, and
contains many strong pictures, much sarcastic no animating development or catastrophe. In
observation, and a great deal of native and  short the author has evidently gone beyona
effective Aumour, though too often debased  his means in entering the lists with the master
by a tone of wilful vulgarity.  The ultimate of historical romance; and must be contented,
conversion of the Entailer himself into a hereafter, to follow his footsteps in the more
sublime and sentimental personage, is a little approachable parts of his career.
too romantic-the history of poor Watty, the
innocent imbecile, and his Betty Bodle, is   Of the other set of publications before us
perhaps the best full-length narrative-and  "Valerius" is the first in point of date; and
the drowning of honest Mr. Walkinshaw the the most original in conception and design.
most powerful single sketch in the work. We It is a Roman story, the scene of which is laid
can afford to make no extracts.               in the first age of Christianity; and its obJect
"' Ringan Gilhaize" also in three volumes, seems to be, partly to present us with a. living




SCOTCH NOVELS.                                     551
picture of the manners and characters of those has not failed through any deficiency of his,
ancient times, and partly to trace the effects has been prevented, we think, from succeed.
of the true faith on the feelings and affections ing by the very nature of the subject.
of those who first embraced it, in the dangers   The next in order, we believe, is " Lights
and darkness of expiring Paganism.  It is a and Shadows of Scottish Life." —an affected,
work to be excepted certainly fiom our gene- or at least too poetical a title —and, standing
ral remark, that the productions before us before a book, not very natural, but bright
were imitations of the celebrated novels to with the lights of poetry.  It is a collection
which we have so often made reference, and of twenty-five stories or little pieces, half
their authors disciples of that great school. novels half idylls, characteristic of Scottish
Such as it is, Valerius isundoubtedly original; scenery and manners-mostly pathetic, and
or at least owes nothing to that new source of mostly too favourable to the country to which
inspiration.  It would be more plausible to they relate.  They are, on the whole, we
say, that the author had borrowed something  think, very beautifully and sweetly written,
from the travels of Anacharsis, or the ancient and in a soft spirit of humanity and gentleness.
romance of Heliodorus and Charielea-or the But the style is too elaborate and uniform  --
later effusions of M. Chateaubriand.  In the there is occasionally a good deal of weakness
main, however, it is original; and it is written  and commonplace in the passages that are
with very considerable power and boldness. most emphatically expressed,;-and the poetBut we cannot, on the wh:ole. say that it has ical heightenings are often introduced where
been successful; and evsn greater powers they hurt both the truth and the simplicity of
could not have insured success for such an the picture.  Still, however, they have their
undertaking.  We must know the daily life foundation in a fine sense of the peculiarities
and ordinary habits of the people in whose of our national character and scenery, and a
domestic adventures we take an interest:-  deep feeling of their excellence and beautyand we really know nothing of the life and  and, though not executed according to the dichabits of the ancient Romans and primitive tates of a severe or correct taste, nor calcuChristians.  We may patch together a cento lated to make much impression on those who
out of old books, and pretend that it exhibits have studied men and books, " with a learned
a view of their manners and conversation: spirit of observation," are yet well fitted to
But the truth is, that all that is authentic in minister delight to less fastidious spirits, —
such a compilation can amount only to a few  and to revive, in many world-wearied hearts,
fragments of such a picture; and that any  those illusions which had only been succeeded
thing like a complete and living portrait must by illusions less innocent and i ttractive, and
be made up by conjecture, and inferences those affections in which alone there is neither
drawn at hazard.  Accordingly, the work be- illusion nor disappointment.
fore us consists alternately of enlarged tran-   As the author's style of narration is rather
scripts of particular acts and usages, of which  copious, we cannot now afford to present our
accounts have been accidentally transmitted  readera with any of his stories-but, as a
to us, and details of dialogue and observation  specimen of his tone and manner of composiin which there is nothing antique or Roman  tion, we may venture on one or two of his inbut the names,-and in reference to which, troductory descriptions.  The following, of a
the assumed time and place of the action is snowy morning, is not the least characteristic.
felt as a mere embarrassment and absurdity.
To' avoid or disguise this awkwardness, the    "It was on a fierce and howling winter day that
only resource seems to be t to take shelter in I was crossing the dreary moor of Auchindown, on
only resource seems to be to take shelter in my way to ihe Manse of that parish, a solitary pea vague generality of talk and description,-  destrian. The snow, which had been incessantly
and to save the detection of the modern in falling for a week past, was drifted into beautiful
his masquerade of antiquity, by abstaining  but dangerous wreaths, far and wide, over the
from every thing that is truly characteristic melancholy expanse-and the scene kept visibly
either of the  one age or the other and conse- shifting before me, as the strong wind that blew
quently ofro evone ageory thing t by whicheither from every point of the compass struck the dazzling
quently from  every thing by ]which  either masses, and heaved them up and down in endless
character or manners can be effectually de- transformation. There was something inspiriting
lineated or distinguished.  The very style of in the labour with which, in the buoyant strength
the work bef:re us affords a curious example of youth, I forced my way through the storm-and
of the necessity of this timid indefiniteness, I could not but enjoy those gleamings of sunlight
that ever and anon burst through some unexpected
un       der suc h circumstances and of its awkward  opening ii the sky, and ogave a character of cheereffect. To exclude the tone of modem times, fulness, and even warmth, to the sides or summits
it is without idiom, without familiarity, with- of the stricken hills. As the momentary cessations
out any of those natural marks by which  of the sharp drift allowed my eyes to look onwards
alone either individuality of character, or the and around, I saw here and there up the little openstamp and pressure of the time, can possibly ing valleys, cottages just visible beneath the black
stems of their snow-covered clumps of trees, or bebe conveyed,-and runs on, even in the gay  side some small spot of green pasture kept open fox
and satirical passages, in a rumbling, round- the sheep. These intimations of life and happiness
about, rhetorical measure, like a translation  came deliaghtfully to me in the midst of the desola.
from solemn Latin, or some such academical tion; and the barking of a dog, attending somo
exercitation. It is an attempt, in short, which, Shepherd in his quest on the hill, put fresh vigour
though creditable to the spirit and talents of into my limbs, telling me that, lonely as I seemed
the author, we — think he has done wisely in to be, I was surrounded by cheerful though unseen
Rothe auth% weot       hink he has done wisely in  company, and that I was not the only wanderet
Sot seekuag to repeat, —and which, though it over the snows.




558                                WORKS OF FICTION.
"As I walked along, my mind was insensibly  many spirits all joining togetner from every point
filled with a crowd of pleasant images of rural win- of heaven: It died away-and then the rushing of
ter life, that helped me gladly onwards over many  rain was heard through the darkness; and, in a few
miles of moor. I thought of the severe but cheerful minutes, down came all the mountain torrents in
labours of the barn-the mending of farm-gear by  their power, and the sides of all the steeps were
the fireside-the wheel turned by the foot of old suddenly sheeted, far and wide, with waterfalls.
age, less for gain than as a thrifty pastime-the skil- The element of water was let loose to run its reful mother, making'auld claes look amaist as joicing race-and that of fire lent it illumination,
weel's the new'-the ballad unconsciously listened  whether sweeping in floods along the great open
to by the family, all busy at their own tasks round  straths, or tumbling in cataracts from cliffs overthe singing maiden-the old traditionary tale told  hanging the eagle's eyrie.
by some wayfarer hospitably housed till the storm    "' Great rivers were suddenly flooded-and the
should blow by-the unexpected visit of neighbours, little mountain rivulets, a few minutes before only
on need or friendship-or the footstep of lover un- silver threads, and in whose fairy basins the minnow
deterred by the snow-drifts that have buried up his played, were now scarcely fordable to shepherd's
flocks;-but above all, I thought of those hours of feet. It was time for the strongest to take shelter,
religious worship that have not yet escaped from  and none now would have liked to issue from it;
the domestic life of the Peasantry of Scotland-of  for while there was real danger to life and limb in
the sound of psalms that the depth of snow cannot the many ranging torrents, and in the lightning's
deaden to the ear of Him to whom they are chanted  flash, the imagination and the soul themselves were
-and of that sublime Sabbath-keeping, which,' on touched with awe in the long resounding glens, and
days too tempestuous for the kirk, changes the cot- beneath the savage scowl of the angry sky.
tage of the Shepherd into the Temple of' God.     " It was not a time to be abroad: Yet all by
"With such glad and peaceful images in my  herself was hastening down Glen-Nevis, from a
heart, I travelled along that dreary moor, with the shealing far up the river, a little Girl, not more than
cutting wind in my face, and my feet sinking in the twelve years of age-in truth, a very child. Grief
snow, or sliding on the hard blue ice beneath it-as and fear, not for herself, but for another, bore her
cheerfully as 1 ever walked in the dewy warmth  along as upon wings, through the storm; she
of a summer morning, through fields of fragrance crossed rivulets from which, on any other occasion,
and of flowers. And now I could discern, within  she would have turned back trembling; and she
half an hour's walk before me, the spire of the did not even hear many of the crashes of thunder
church, close to which stood the Manse of my aged  that smote the smoking hills.  Sometimes at a
friend and benefactor. My heart burned within me fiercer flash of lightning she just lifted her hand to
as a sudden gleam of stormy sunlight tipt it with  her dazzled eyes, and then, unappalled, hurried on
fire-and I felt, at that moment, an inexpressible through the hot and sulphurous air. Had she been
sense of the sublimity of the character of that gray- a maiden of that tender age from village or city, her
headed Shepherd who had, for fifty years, abode in course would soon have been fatally stopt short;
the wilderness, keeping together his own happy  but she had been born among the hills; had first
little flock." —Lights and Shadows, pp. 131-133.  learned to walk among the heather, holding by its
The next of a summer storm  among the  blooming branches, and many and many a solitary
The next, of a summer storm among the mile had she tripped, young as she was, over moss
mountains, is equally national and appropriate, and moor, glen and mountain, even like the roe that
" An enormous thunder-cloud had lain all day  had its lair in the coppice beside her own beloved
over Ben-Nevis, shrouding its summit in thick  Shealing."-lbid. pp. 369-372.
darkness, blackening its sides and base, wherever    We must add a part of the story of a fair
they were beheld from the surrounding country, child's sickness, in the family of one of our
with masses of deep shadow, and especially flineging  cheerful and pious cottagers.
down a weight of gloom upon that magnificent Glen
that bears the same name with the Mountain; till   "The surgeon of the parish lived some miles disnow the afternoon was like twilight, and the voice taut, but they expected him now every moment,
of all the streams was distinct in the breathlessness and many a wistful look was directed by tearful-eyes
of the vast solitary hollow. The inhabitants of all along the moor. The daughter, who was out at
the straths, vales, glens, and dells, round and about service, came anxiously home on this night,-the
the Monarch of Scottish mountains, had, during only one that could be allowed her, for the poor
each successive hour, been expecting the roar of must work in their grief, and servants must do their
thunder and the deluge of rain; but the huge con- duty to those whose bread they eat, even when na.
glomeration of lowering clouds would not rend  ture is sick,-sick at heart. Another of the daugh.
asunder, although it was certain that a calm blue ters came in from the potatoe-field beyond the brae,
sky could not be restored till all that dreadful as- with what was to be their frugal supper. The calm
semblage had melted away into torrents, or been  noiseless spirit of life was in and around the house,
driven off by a strong wind from the sea. All the while death seemed dealing with one who, a few
cattle on the hills, and on the hollows, stood still or days ago, was like light upon the floor, and the
lay down in their fear,-the wild deer sought in sound of music, that always breathed up when most
herds the shelter of the pine-covered cliffs-the  wanted.-' Do you think the child is dying?' said
raven hushed his hoarse croak in some grim cavern, Gilbert with a calm voice to the surgeon, who, on
and the eagle left the dreadful silence of the upper his wearied horse, had just arrived from another
heavens.  Now and then the shepherds looked sick-bed, over the misty range of hills, and had
from their huts, while the shadow of the thunder- been looking stedfastly for some minutes on the
clouds deepened the hues of their plaids and tar- little patient. The humane man knew the family
tans! and at every creaking of the heavy branches well, in the midst of whom he was standing, and
of the pines, or wide-armed oaks in the solitude of replied,' While there is life there is hope; but my
their inaccessible birth-place, the hearts of the lone- pretty little Margaret is, I fear, in the last extremi.
ly dwellers quaked, and they lifted up their eyes to ty.' There was no loud lamentation at these words
see the first wide flash-the disparting of the masses -all had before known, though they would not
of darkness-and paused to hear the long loud rat- confess it to themselves, what they now were toldtie of heaven's artillery shaking the foundation of and though the certainty that was in the words of
the everlasting mountains. But all was yet silent. the skilful man made their hearts beat for a little
"The peal came at last! and it seemed as if an -with sicker throbbings, made their pale faces paler,
earthquake had smote the silence. Not a tree-not and brought out from some eyes a greater gush of
a blade of grass moved; but the blow stunned, as tears, yet death had been before in this house, and
it were, the heart of the solid globe. Then was in this case he came, as he always does, in awe,
there a low, wild, whispering, wailing voice, as of but not in terror.




SCOTCH NOVELS.                                       551
"The child was now left with none but her is much more in the manner of the Lights and
mother by the bedside, for it was said to be best so; Shadows.  It is a story of great power and in.
and Gilbert and his family sat down round the  erest though neither very pleasing, nor very
kitchen fire, for a while in silence. In about a                     nor ver
quarter of an hour, they began to rise calmly, and  moral, nor very intelligible. Mr. Blair is an exto go each to his allotted work. One of the daugh- emplary clergyman in Scotland, who, while yet
ters went forth with the pail to milk the cow, and  in the prime of life, loses a beloved wife, and
another began to set out the table in the middle of is for a time plunged in unspeakable afflicthe floor for supper, covering it with a white cloth. tion. In this state he is visited by Mrs. Camp
Gilbert viewed the usual household arrangements bell the intimate friend of his deceased wie,
with a solemn and untroubled eye; and there was     the intimate friend of his deceased wif
almost the faint light of a grateful smile on his who had left her husband abroad-and soon
cheek, as he said to the worthy surgeon,' You will after saves his little daughter, and indeed
partake of our fare after your day's travel and toil himself. from  drowning.  There are evident
of humality.'  In a short silent half hour, the po- marks of love on the lady's part, and much
tatoes and oat-cakes, butter and milk, were on the affection on his  but both seem  unconscious
board; and Gilbert, lifting up his toil-hardened,
but manly hand, with a slow motion, at which the
room was as hushed as if it had been empty, closed  harshly ordered home to the Highland tower
his eyes in reverence, and asked a blessing. There  of her husband, and he is left alone in the
was a little stool, on which no one sat, by the old  home she had so long cheered with her smiles.
man's side! It had been put there unwittingly, With nothing but virtue and prudence, as the
when the other seats were all placed in their usual author assures us in his heartorder; but the golden head that was wont to rise
at that part of the table was now wanting. There ably runs off from  his child and his parish,
was silence-not a word was said-their meal was and makes a clandestine visit to her Celtic
before them,-God had been thanked, and they  retreat-arrives there in the night-is rapturbegan to eat.                                  ously welcomed-drinks copiously of wine" Another hour of trial passed, and the child was wazes with her on the moonlight sea-is again
still swimming for its life. The very dogs knew there -
was grief in the house; and lay without stirring, pressed to the wine cup-and finds himself
as if hiding themselves, below the long table at the the next morning-and is found by her serwindow. One sister sat with an unfinished gown vants, clasped in her embraces! His remorse
on her knees, that she had been sewing for the and horror are now  abundantly frantic-he
dearchild, and still continued at the hopeless work, flies from her into the desert  and drives her
she scarcely knew why; and often, often putting up from him with the wildest execrations.  His
her hand to wipe away a tear.' What is that?'                       brings on frenzy and
said the old man to his eldest daughter —'what is that contrition7 however, brings on frenzy and
you are laying on the shelf?' She could scarcely  fever-he is carried back to her tower, and
reply that it was a riband and an ivory comb that she watched over by her for a while in his delihad brought for little Margaret, against the night rium.  As he begins, after many days, to reof the dancing-school ball. And, at these words, cover he hears melanchol music and sees
the father could not restrain a long, deep, and bitter slow                          nd
slow boats on the water beneath his windowgroan; at which the boy, nearest in age to his dying and soon after learns that she had caught the
sister, looked up weeping in his face, and lettingand soon after learns that she had caught the
the tattered book of old ballads, which he had fever from him, and died i and that it was the
been poring on, but not reading, fall out of his hands, ceremony of her interment he had seen and
he rose from his seat, and, goirlng into his father's heard on the water.  He then journies slowly
bosom, kissed him, and asked God to bless him; homeward; proclaims his lapse to the presbyfor the holy heart of the boy was moved within
him; and the old man, as he embraced him  f     ery, lt solemnly resigns his office and betakes
that, in his innocence and simplicity, he was indeed  himself to the humble task of a day-labourer
a comforter. Scarcely could Gilbert reply to his in his own former parish.  In this state of
first question about his child, when the surgeon penitence and humiliation he passes ten lonely
came from the bed-room, and said,' Margaret seems and blameless years-gradually winning bac
lifted up by God's hand above death and the grave; the respect an
I think she will recover. She has fallen asleep;d esteem of his neighbours, by
and, when she wakes, I hope-I believe-that the the depth of his contrition and the zeal of his
danger will be past, and that your child will live.' humble piety-till at last his brethren of the
They were all prepared for death; but now they  presbytery remove the sentence of deprivawere found unprepared for life. One wept that had tion, and, on the next vacancy, restore him to
till then locked up all her tears within her heart; the pastoral charge of his afflicted and affecanother gave a short palpitating shriek; and the
tender-hearted Isobel, who had nursed the child
when it was a baby, fainted away. The youngest   There is no great merit in the design of this
brother gave way to gladsome smiles; and, calling story, and there are many things both absurd
out his dog Hector, who used to sport with him and and revolting in its details: but there is no
his little sister on the moor, he told the tidings to ordinary power in the execution; and there is
the dumb irrational creature, whose eves, it is cerrain, sparkled with a sort of joy." —Lights   and a spirit and richness in the writing, of which
Shadows, pp. 36-a43.                           no notion can be formed from  our little abstract of its substance.  It is but fair, thereThere are many things better than this in  fore, to the author, to let him speak for himself
the book-and there are many not so good. in one specimen; and we take the account.
We had marked some passages for censure, with which the book opens, of the death of
and some for ridicule-but the soft-hearted- the pastor's wife. and his own consequent des-ess of the author has softened our hearts to- olation.  She had suffered dreadfully from
wards him-and we cannot, just at present, the successive loss of three children, and her
say any thing but good of him.                 health had gradually sunk under her affliction.
The next book is i" Adam  Blair, which, it   " The long melancholy summer passed away,
seems, is by the author of Valerius, though it and the songs of the harvest reapers were heard in




560                               WORKS OF FICTION.
the surrounding fields; whilte all, foam day to day, yet twined together, the darkest and the gayest.
was becoming darker and darker within the Manse into a sort of union that made them all appear alike
of Cross-Meikle.  Worn to a shadow-as pale as dark.'The mother, that had nursed his years of
ashes —feeble as a child-the dying mother had, for infancy-the father, whose grey heirs he had long
many weeks, been unable to quit her chamber; and  before laid in the grave-sisters, brothers, friends,
the long-hoping husband at last felt his spirit faint all dead and buried-the angel forms of his own
within him; for even he perceived that the hour of' early-ravished offspring-all crowded round and
separation could not much farther be deferred. He round him, and then rushing away, seemed to bear
watched-he prayed by her bed-side-he strove from him, as a prize and a trophy, the pale image
even yet to smile and to speak of hope, but his lips of his expiring wife. Again SHE returned, and she
trembled as he spake; and neither he nor his wife alone was present with him-not the pale expiring
were deceived; for their thoughts were the same, wife, but the young radiant woman-blushing,
and years of love had taught them too well all the trembling, stmiling, panting, on his bosom, whisper
secrets of each other's looks as well as hearts.  ing to him all her hopes, and fears, and pride, and
" Nobody witnessed their last parting; the room  love, and tenderness, and meekness, like a bride!
was darkened, and no one was within it but them- and then again all would be black as night. He
selves and their child, who sat by the bed-side, would start up and gaze around, and see nothing
weeping in silence she knew not wherefore-for of but the sepulchral gloom of the wood, and hear
death she knew little, except the terrible name; nothing but the cold blasts among the leaves. He
and her father had as yet been, if not brave enough  lay insensible alike to all things, stretched out at all
to shed'no tears, at least strong enough to conceal his length, with his eyes fixedin a stupid steadfastthem.-Silently and gently was the pure spirit re- less upon one great massy branch that hung over
leased from its clay; but manly groans were, for him-his bloodless lips fastened together as if they
the first time, heard above the sobs and wailings of had been glued-his limbs like things entirely desthe infant; and the listening household shrunk back titute of life and motion-every thing about him
from the door, for they knew that the blow had been  cold, stiff, and senseless. Minute after minute passed
stricken; and the voice of humble sympathy feared  heavily away as in a dream-hour after hour rolled
to make itself be heard in the sanctuary of such  unheeded into the abyss-the stars twinkled through
affliction. The village doctor arrived just at that the pine tops, and disappeared-the moon arose in
moment; he listened for a few seconds, and being her glory, rode through the clear autumn heaven,
satisfied that all was over, he also turned away. and vanished-and all alike unnoted by the prosHis horse had been fastened to the hook by the trate widower.
Manse door; he drew out the bridle, and led the   " Adam Blair came forth from  among the firanimal softly over the turf, but did not mount again  trees in the grey light of the morning, walked leisuntil he had far passed the outskirts of the green.  urely and calmly several times round the garden" Perhaps an hour might have passed before Mr. green, which lay immediately in'front of his house,
Blair opened the window of the room in which his then lifted the latch for himself, and glided with
wife had died.  His footstep had been heard for light and hasty footsteps up stairs to the room,
some tirne hurriedly traversing and re-traversing the where, for some weeks past, he had been ac.
floor; but at last he stopped where the nearly fas- customed to occupy a solitary bed. The wakeful
tened shutters of the window admitted but one servants heard him shut his door behind hint; one
broken line of light into the chamber.  He threw  of them having gone out anxiously, had traced him
every thing open with a bold hand, and the uplifting  to his privacy, but none of them had ventured to
of the window produced a degree of noise, to the  think of disturbing it. Until he came back, not
like of which the house had for some time been un- one of them thought of going to bed. Now, howaccustomed: he looked out, and saw the external ever, they did so, and the house of sorrow was all
world bright before him, with all the rich colourings over silent."'-Adam Blair, pp. 4-12.
of a September evening.-The hum of the village
sent an occasional echo through the intervening    There is great merit too, though of a differhedge-rows; all was quiet and beautiful above and  ent kind, in the scenes with Strahan and
below; the earth seemed to be clothed all over with  Campbell, and those with the ministers and
sights and sounds of serenity; and the sky, deepening into darker and darker blue overhead, showed the earliest of its stars intensely twinkling, as if gether, and the diction, though strong and
ready to harbinger or welcome the coming moon.  copious, is frequently turgid and incorrect.
"The widowed man gazed for some minutes in    "The Trials of Margaret Lyndsay,"' by the
silence upon the glorious calm of nature, and then  author of Lights and Shadows, is the last of
turned with a sudden start to the side of the room  these publications of which we shall now say
where the wife of his bosom had so lately breathed; 
-he saw the pale dead face; the black ringlets
parted on the brow; the marble hand extended  sorrow for us to say much of it.  It is very
upon the sheet; the unclosed glassy eyes; and the beautiful and tender; but something cloying,
little girl leaning towards her mother in a gaze of perhaps, in the uniformity of its beauty, and
half-horrified bewilderment; he closed the stiffen- exceedingly oppressive in the unremitting
ing eyelids over the soft but ghastly orbs; kissed  weight of the pity with which  it presses on
the brow, the cheek, the lips, the bosom, and then  weight of tNe ptyi wi  hich  t presses on
rushed down the stairs, and went out, bare-headed, our souls.  Nothing was ever imagined more
into the fields, before any one could stop him, or lovely than the beauty, the innocence, and
ask whither he was going.                      the sweetness of Margaret Lyndsay, in the
" There is an old thick grove of pines almost earlier part of her trials; and nothing, we beimmediately behind the house; and after staring lieve is more true, than the comfortable lesabout him for a moment on the green, he leapt hastily  son which her tale is meant to inculcate, —
over the little brook that skirts it, and plunged that a gentle and affectionate natre is never
within the shade of the trees. The breeze was that a gentle and affectionate nature is never
rustling the black boughs high over his head, and  inconsolable nor permanently unhappy, but
whistling along the bare ground beneath him. He easily proceeds from submission to new enjoy
rushed he knew not whither, on and on, between ment.  But the tale of her trials, the accuthose naked brown trunks, till he was in the heart mulation of suffering on the heads of the
of the wood; and there, at last, he tossed himself humblest and most innocent of God's *readown on his back among the withered fern leaves  humblest  ani  most  nocent of Goda  s creaand mouldering fir-cones. All the past things of tures, is too painiul to be voluntarily recalled;
life floated before him, distinct in their lineaments, and we cannot now  undertake to give our




SCOTCH'NOVELS.                                      561
readers any account of her father's desertion  to admit the wheels, and also too steep for a laden
af his helpless family-of their dismal ban- horse. Two or three of their new neighbours,ihment from the sweet retreat in which they  persons in the very humblest condition, coarsely
E md beent fnurtured  their painful struggleand negligently dressed, but seemingly kind and
d been nurtured-their painfu  struggle decent people, came out from their houses at the
with poverty and discomfort, in the darksome  stopping of the cart-wheels.  The cart was soon
lanes of the city-the successive deaths of all unladen, and the furniture put into the empty room.
this affectionate and harmless household, and  A cheerful fire was blazing, and the animated and
her own ill-starred marriage to the husband!nterested faces of the honest folks who crowded
of another wife. Yet we must enable them  into it, on a slight acquaintance, unceremoniously
to form  some notion of a work which has and curiously, but without rudeness, gave a cheer.
to form  some notion of a work, which has tful welcome to the new dwelling. In a quarter of
drawn more tears from us than any we have  an hour the beds were laid down,-the room dehad to peruse since the commencement of cently arranged,-one and all of the neighbours
our career.  This is the account of the migra- said' Gude night,'-and the door was closed upon
tion of the ruined and resigned family from the Lyndsays in their new dwelling.
the scene of their early enjoyments. family      I' "They blessed and eat their bread in peace. The
the scene of their early enjoy-ments.          Bible was then opened, and Margaret read a chap"The twenty-fourth day of November came at ter. There was frequent and loud noise in the lane,
last-a dim, dull, dreary, and obscure day, fit for of passing merriment or anger,-but this little conparting everlastingly from a place or person ten- gregation worshipped God in a hymn, Esther's
derly beloved. There was no sun-no wind-no  sweet voice leading the sacred melody, and they
sound in the misty and unechoing air. A deadness knelt together in prayer."-Trials of.llargaret
lay over the wet earth, and there was no visible Lyndsay, pp. 66-70.
Heaven. Their goods and chattels were few; but   Her brother goes to sea, and returns affecmany little delays occurred, some accidental, and tionate and happy, with a young companion
more in the unwillingness of their hearts to take a                              companion
final farewell. A neighbour had lent his cart for whom the opening beauty of Margaret Lyndthe flitting, and it was now standing loaded at the say charms into his first dream  of love, and
door, ready to move away. The fire, which had  whose gallant bearing and open heart, cast
been kindled in the morning with a few borrowed  the first. and almost the last gleam of joy and
pewas locked-anow out-the  shutters closed —the door enchantment over the gentle and chastened
was locked —and the key put into the hand of the
person sent to receive it. And now there was heart of the maiden.  But this, like all her
nothing more to be said or done, and the impatient other dawnings of joy, led only to more bitter
horse started briskly away from Braehead. The affliction.  She had engaged to go with him
blind girl, and poor Marion, were sitting in the cart and her brother to church, one fine summer
-Margaret and her mother were on foot. Esther Sunday, and-the author shall tell the rest
had two or three small flower-pots in her lap, for of the story himself.
in her blindness she loved the sweet fragrance,
and the felt forms and imagined beauty of flowers;   " Her heart was indeed glad within her, when
and the innocent carried away her tame pigeon in she saw the young sailor at the spot. His brown
her bosom.  Just as Margaret lingered on the sun-burnt face was all one smile of exulting joythreshold, the Robin red-breast that had been her and his bold clear eyes burned through the black
boarder for several winters. hopped upon the stone- hair that clustered over his forehead. There was
seat at the side of the door, and turned up its merry  not a handsomer, finer-looking boy in the British
eyes to her face.''There,' said she,' is your last navy. Although serving before the mast, as many
crumb from us, sweet Roby, but there is a God a noble lad has done, he was the son of a poor genwho takes care o' us a'. The widow had by this tleman; and as he came up to Margaret Lyndsay,
time shut down the lid of her memory, and left all in his smartest suit, with his white straw hat, his
the hoard of her thoughts and feelings, joyful or clean shirt-neck tied with a black riband, and a
despairing, buried in darkness.  The assembled  small yellow cane in his hand, a brighter boy and a
group of neighbours, mostly mothers with their fairer girl never met in affection in the calm sunchildren in their arms, had given the' God bless shine of a Scottish Sabbath-day.
you, Alice, God bless you, Margaret, and the    "' Why have not you brought Laurence with
lave,' and began to disperse; each turning to her you?' Harry made her put her arm within his,
own cares and anxieties, in which, before night, the and then told her that it was not her brother's day
Lyndsays would either be forgotten, or thought on on shore. Now all the calm air was filled with the
with that unpainful sympathy which is all the poor sound of bells, and Leith Walk covered with wellcan aflord or expect, but which, as in this case, dressed families. The nursery-gardens on each
often yields the fairest fruits of charity and love.   side were almost in their greatest beauty-so soft
" A cold sleety rain accompanied the cart and the and delicate the verdure of the young imbedded
foot travellers all the way to the city. Short as the trees, and so bright the glow of intermingled early
distance was, they met with several other flittings, flowers.' Let us go lo Leith by a way I have dis
some seemingly cheerful, and from good to better, covered,' said the joyful sailor-and he drew Mar
-others with woe-begotle faces, going like them- garet gently away from the public walk, into a reselves down the path of poverty, on a journey from  tired path winding with many little white gates
which they were to rest at night in a bare and hun- through these luxuriantly cultivated enclosures.
gry house. And now they drove through the sub- The insects were dancing in the air-birds singing
urbs, and into the city, passing unheeded among all about them-the sky was without a cloud-and
crowds of people, all on their own business of a bright dazzling line of light was all that was now
pleasure or profit, laughing, jibing, shouting, curs- seen for the sea. The youthful pair loitered in their
ing,-the stir, and tumult, and torrent of' congre- happiness-they never marked that the bells had
gated life.  Margaret could hardly help feeling ceased ringing; and when at last they hurried to
elated with the glitter of all the shining windows, reach the chapel, the door was closed, and they
and the hurry of the streets. Marion sat silent heard the service chanting. Margaret durst not
with her pigeon warm in her breast below her brown knock at the door, or go in so long after worship
cloak, unknowing she of change, of time, or of was begun; and she secretly upbraided herself' for
place, and reconciled to sit patiently there, with  her forgetfulness of a well-known and holy hour.
the soft plumage touching her heart, if the cart had  She felt unlike herself walking on the street during
gone on, through the cold and sleet, to midnight!  the time of church, and beseeched Harry to go with
"The cart stopt at the foot of a lane too narrow  her dut of the sight of the windows, that all seemed
36




562                              WORKS OF FICTION.
watching her in her neglect of Divine worship. So was heedless-the sheet fast-and the boat instantly
they bent their steps towards the shore.      filling, went down in a moment, head foremost, in
"Harry Needham had not perhaps had any pre- twenty fathom water!
conceived intention to keep Margaret from church;   "The accident was seen both from the shore and
but he was very well pleased, that, instead of being ship; and a crowd of boats put off to their re:ef;
with her in a pew there, in a crowd, he was now But death was beforehand with them  all; ana,.
walking alone with her on the brink of his own when the frigate's boat came to the place, nothing
element. The tide was coming fast in, hurrying was seen upon the waves.  Two of the men, it
on its beautiful little bright ridges of variegated was supposed, had gone to the bottomr  entangled
foam, by short successive encroachments over the with ropes or beneath the sail,-in a few moments
smooth hard level shore, and impatient, as it were, the grey head of the old steersman was apparent,
to reach the highest line of intermingled sea-weed, and he was lifted up with an oar-drowned. A
silvery sand, and deep-stained or glittering shells. woman's clothes were next descried; and Margaret
The friends, or lovers —and their short dream was was taken up with something heavy weighing down
both friendship and love-retreated playfully from  the body. It was Harry Needham, who had sunk
every little watery wall that fell in pieces at their in trying'to save her; and in one of his hands was
feet, and Margaret turned up her sweet face in the grasped a tress of her hair that had given way in
sun-light to watch the slow dream-like motion of the desperate struggle. There seemed to be taint
the sea-mews, who seemed sometimes to be yield- symptoms of life in both; but they were utterly
ing to-the breath of the shifting air, and sometimes insensible. The crew, among which was Laurence
obeying only some wavering impulse of joy within Lyndsay, pulled swiftly back to the ship; and the
their own white-plumaged breasts. Or she walked bodies were first of alt laid down together side by
softly behind them, as they alighted on the sand, side in the captain's cabin."-Trials of Mlrgargaret
that she might come near enough to observe that Lyndsay, pp. 125-130.
beautifully wild expression that is in the eyes of all    We must conclude with something less
winged creatures whose home is on the sea.    desolating-and we can only find it in the
" Alas! home-church-every thing on earth
was forgotten-for her soul was filled exclusively account of the poor orphan's reception from
with its present joy. She had never before, in all an ancient miserly kinsman, to whom, after
her life, been down at the sea shore-and she never she had buried all her immediate family, she
again was within hearing of its bright, sunny, hol- went like Ruth, in the simple strength of her
low-sounding and melancholy waves!           innocence. After walking all day, she comes
"' See,' said Harry, with a laugh,'the kirks at night  ithin sight of his rustic abode.
have scaled, as you say here in Scotland-the pierhead is like a wood of bonnets.-Let us go there,   "With a beating heart, she stopt for a little while
and I think I can show them the bonniest face at the mouth of the avenue, or lane, that seenled
among them a'.' The fresh sea breeze had tinged to lead up to the house. It was much overgrown
Margaret's pale face with crimson,-and her heart with grass, and there were but few marks of wbheels;
now sent up a sudden blush to deepen and brighten the hedges on each side were thick and green, but
that beauty. They mingled with the cheerful, but unclipped, and with frequent gaps; something
calm and decent crowd, and stood together at the melancholy lay over all about; and the place had
end of the pier, looking towards the ship.'That the air of being uninhabited. But still it was beauis our frigate, Margaret, the Tribune;-she sits like tiful; for it was bathed in the dews of a rich mida bird on the water, and sails well, both in calm  summer gloaming, and the clover filled the air with
and storm.' The poor girl looked at the ship with fragrance that revived the heart of the solitary
her flags flying, till her eyes filled with tears.' If orphan, as she stood, for a few minutes, irresolute,
we had a glass, like one my father once had, we and apprehensive of an unkind reception.
might, perhaps, see Laurence.' And for the mo-   " At last she found heart, and the door of the
ment she used the word'father' without remem- house being open, Margaret walked in, and stood
bering what and where he was in his misery.- on the floor of the wide low-roofed kitchen. An'There is one of our jigger-rigged boats coming old man was sitting, as if half asleep, in a highright before the wind. Why, Margaret, this is the backed arm-chair, ly the side of the chimney.last opportunity you may have of seeing your Before she had time or courage to speak, her shabrother. We may sail to-morrow; nay, to-night.' dow fell upon his eyes, and he looked towards her
-A  sudden wish to go on board the ship seized with strong visible surprise, and, as she thought,
Margaret's heart. Harry saw the struggle-and, with a slight displeasure.' Ye hae got off your
wiling her down a flight of steps, in a moment road, I'm thinking, young woman; what seek you
lifted her into the boat, which, with the waves here?' Margaret asked respectfully if she might
rushing in foam within an inch of the gunwale, sit down.'Aye, aye, ye may sit downl, but we
went dancing out of harbour, and was soon half-way keep nae refreshment here-this is no a publicover to the anchored frigate.                  house. There's ane a mile west in the Clachan.'
"The novelty of her situation, and of all the The old man kept looking upon her, and with a
scene around, at first prevented the poor girl from  countenance somewhat relaxed from its inhospitathinking deliberately of the great error she had ble austerity. Her appearance did not work as a
committed, in thus employing her Sabbath hours charm or a spell, for she was no enchantress in a
in a way so very different to what she had been ac- fairy tale; but the tone of her voice, so sweet and
customed; but she soon could not help thinking gentle, the serenity of her face, and the meekness
what she was to say to her mother when she went of her manner, as she took her seat upon a stool
home, and was obliged to confess that she had not not far from the door, had an effect upon old Daniel
been at church at all, and had paid a visit to her Craig, and he bade her come forward, and take a
brother on board the ship. It was very sinful in chair' farther ben the house.'
her thus to disobey her own conscience and her   "' I am an Orphan, and have perhaps but little
mother's will, and the tears came into her eyes.-  claim upon you, but I have ventured to come here
The young sailor thought she was afraid, and only -my name is Margaret Lyndsay, and my mother's
pressed her closer to him, with a few soothing name was Alice Craig.' The old man moved upon
words. At that moment a sea-mew came winnow- his chair, as if a blow had struck him, and looked
ing its way. towards the boat, and one of the sailors long and earnestly into her face. Her features conrising up with a musquet, took aim as it flew over firmed her words. Her countenance possessed that
their heads. Margaret suddenly started up, crying  strong power over him that goes down mvsteriousiy'Do not kill the pretty bird,' and, stumbling, fell through the generations of perishable man. conforward upon the man, who also lost his balance.- necting love with likeness, so that the child' its
A flaw of wind struck the mainsail-the helmsman cradle may be smiling almost with the self- same




SCOTCH NOVELS.                                       563
expression that belonged to some one of its fore-   " In the quiet of the succeeding evening, the old
fathers mouldered into ashes many hundred years man took her with him along the burn-side, and
ago.' Nae doubt, nae doubt, ye are the daughter into a green ewe-bught, where they sat down for a
o' Walter Lyndsay and Alice Craig. Never Here  while in silence. At last he said,'I have nae wife
twa faces mair unlike than theirs, yet yours is like -nae children-nae friends, I may say, Margaret
them baith. Margaret-that is your name-I give -nane that cares for me, but the servant in the
you my blessing. Hae you walked far? Mysie's house, an auld friendless body like mysel'; but if
doun at the Rashy-riggs, wi' milk to the calf, but you choose to bide wi' us, you are mair than welwill be in belyve. Come, my bonny bairn, take a come; for I know not what is in that face o' thine;
shake o' your uncle's hand.'                   but this is the pleasantest day that has come to me
" Margaret told, in a few words, the principal these last thirty years.'
events of the last three years, as far as she could;   " Margaret was now requested to tell her uncle
and the old man, to whom they had been almost more about her parents and herself, and she comall unknown, heard her story with attention, but plied with a full heart. She went back with all the
said little or nothing. Meanwhile, Mysie came in power of nature's eloquence, to the history of her
-an elderly, hard-featured woman, but with an young years at Braehead-recounted all her father's
expression of homely kindness, that made her dark  miseries-her mother's sorrows-and her own trials.
face not unpleasant.                           All the while she spoke, the tears were streaming
" Margaret felt herself an inmate of her uncle's from her eyes, and her sweet bosom heaved with a
house, and her heart began already to warm towards crowd of heavy sighs. The old man sat silent;
the old grey-headed solitary man. His manner ex- but more than once he sobbed, and passed his
hibited, as she thought, a mixture of curiosity and  withered toil-worn hands across his forehead.kindness; but she did not disturb his taciturnity, They rose up together, as by mutual consent, and
and only returned immediate and satisfactory an- returned to the house. Before the light had too far
swers to his few short and abrupt questions. He died away, Daniel Craig asked Margaret to read a
evidently was thinking over the particulars which chapter in the Bible, as she had done the night beshe had given him of her life at Braehead, and in fore; and when she had concluded, he said,' I
the lane; and she did not allow herself to fear, but never heard the Scriptures so well read in all
that, in a day or two, if he permitted her to stay, my days —did you, Mysie?' The quiet creature
she would be able to awakdn in his heart a natural looked on Margaret with a smile of kindness and
interest in her behalf. Hope was a guest that never admiration, and said, that'she had never unleft her bosom —and she rejoiced when on the return  derstood that chapter sae weel before, although,
of the old domestic from the bed-room, her uncle aiblins, she had read it a hundred times.'-' Ye can
requested her to read aloud a chapter of the Bible. gang to your bed without Mysie to show you the
She did so,-and the old man took the book out of way to-night, my good niece-ye are one of the
her hand with evident satisfaction, and, fastening family now-and Nether-Place will after this be
the clasp, laid it by in the little cupboard in the wall as cheerfu' a house as in a' the parish.' "-Trials
near his chair, and wished her good night.     of Mlargaret Lyudsay, pp. 251, 252.
" Mysie conducted her into the bed-room, where
every thing was neat, and superior, indeed, to the    We should now finish our task by saying
ordinary accommodation of a farm-house.'Ye  something of "Reginald Dalton;"-but such
need na fear, for feather-bed and sheets are a' as of our readers as have accompanied us througn
dry as last year's hay in the stack. I keep a' things this long retrospect, will readily excuse as,
in the house weel aired, for damp's a great disaster. we presume for postponing our notice of that
But, for a' that, sleepin' breath has na been drawn wr 
in that bed these saxteen years!' Margaret thanked work tll another opportunity. There are two
her for the trouble she had taken, and soon laid decisive reasons, indeed, against our proceeddown her limbs in grateful rest. A thin calico cur- ing with it at present,-one, that we really
tain was before the low window; but the still serene have not yet read it fairly through-the other,
radiance of a midsummer night glimmered on the that we have no longer room to say aL of it
floor. All was silent-and in atew minutes Mar- that we foresee it will require.
garet Lyndsav was asleep.




GENERAL POLITICS.
A GREAT deal that should naturally come under this title has been unavoidably given
already, under that of History; and more, I fear, may be detected under still less appropriate
denominations. If any unwary readers have been thus unwittingly decoyed into Politics,
while intent on more innocent studies, I can only hope that they will now take comfort, from
finding how little of this obnoxious commodity has been left to appear in its proper colours;
and also from seeing, from the decorous title now assumed, that all intention of engaging
them in Party discussions is disclaimed.
I do not think that I was ever a violent or (consciously) uncandid partisan; and at all
events, ten years of honest abstinence and entire segregation from party contentions (to say
nothing of the sobering effects of threescore antecedent years!), should have pretty much
effaced the vestiges of such predilections, and awakened the least considerate to a sense of
the exaggerations, and occasional unfairness, which such influences must almost unavoidably
impart to political disquisitions. In what I now reprint I have naturally been anxious to select what seemed least liable to this objection: and though I cannot flatter myself that a tone
of absolute, Judicial impartiality is maintained in all these early productions, I trust that
nothing will be found in them that can suggest the idea either of personal animosity, or of an
ungenerous feeling towards a public opponent.
To the two first, and most considerable, of the following papers, indeed, I should wish
particularly to refer, as fair exponents both of the principles I think I have always maintained,
and of the temper in which I was generally disposed to maintain them. In some of the
others a more vehement and contentious tone may no doubt be detected. But as they touch
upon matters of permanent interest and importance, and advocate opinions which I still think
substantially right, I have felt that it would be pusillanimous now to suppress them, fiom a
poor fear of censure, which, if just, I cannot but know that I deserve-or a still poorer distrust
of those allowances which I have no reason to think will be withheld from me by the better
part of my readers.
(Noiemnber, 1812.)
Essay on the Practice of the British Government, distinguished from the abstract Theory en
which it is supposed to be founded. By GOULD FRANCIS LECKIE. 8vo. London: 1812.*
THIS is the most direct attack which we   The pamphlet which contains these con.
have ever seen in English, upon the free con-.solatory doctrines, has the further merit of
stitution of England;-or rather upon political being, without any exception, the worst writ..
liberty in general, and upon our government ten, and the worst reasoned, that has ever
only in so far as it is free:-and it consists fallen into our hands; and there is nothing inpartly in an eager exposition of the inconveni- deed but the extreme importance of the subences resulting from parliaments or represen- ject, and of the singular complexion of the
tative legislatures, and partly in a warm de- times in which it appears, that could induce
fence and undisguised panegyric of Absolute, us to take any notice of it. The rubbish.that
or, as the author more elegantly phrases it, of is scattered in our common walks, we merely
Simple monarchy.                          push aside and disregard; but, when it defiles
the approaches to the temple, or is heaped on
* I used to think that this paper contained a very the sanctuary itself, it must be cast out with
good defence of our free constitution; and especially other rites of expiation, and visited with sethe most complete, temperate, and searching vindi- verer penalties. When the season is healthy,
cation of our Hereditary Monarchy that was any we may walk securely among the elements
where to be met with: And, though it now appears of corruption, and warrantably decline the into me rather more elementary and elaborate than glorious labour of sweeping them away:was necessary, I am still of opinion that it may be
of use to young politicians,-and suggest cautions but when the ar s tainted and the blood
and grounds of distrust, to rash discontent and Jmpure, we should look with jealousy upon
thoughtless presumption.                  every speck, and consider that the slightest
564




LECKIE ON BRITISH GOVERNMENT.                            565
rtengLsion of our police may spread a pesti- dition, he candidly admits that none oi tho-;a
lence through all the borders of the land.  would reach to the root of the evil wnhich
There are two periods, it appears to us, consists entirely, it seems, in our "too gieat
when tne promulgation of such doctrines as jealousy of the Crown:" and accordingly proare maintained by this author may be con- ceeds to draw a most seducing picture of his
sidered as dangerous, or at least as of evil favourite Simple monarchy; and indirectly inomen, in a country like this. The one, when deed, but quite unequivocally, to intimate,
the friends of arbitrary power are strong and that the only effectual cure for the evils under
daring, and advantageously posted; and when, which we now suffer is to be found in the total
meditating some serious attack on the liber- abolition of Parliaments, and the conversion
ties of the people, they send out their emis- of our constitution into an absolute monarchy:
saries and manifestoes, to feel and to prepare or, shortly to "advert," as he expresses himtheir way: —the other, when they are sub- self. "to the advantages which a Monarchy,
stantially weak, and unfit to maintain a con- such as has been described, has over our
flict with their opponents, but where the great boasted British Constitution."  These advanbody of the timid and the cautious are alarmed tages. after a good deal of puzzling, he next
at the prospect of such a conflict, and half settles to be —First, that the sovereign will be
disposed to avert the crisis by supporting " more likely to feel a pride, as well as a zeal,
whatever is in actual possession of power. to act a great and good part;f —secondly, that
Whether either of these descriptions may suit the ministers will have more time to attend to
the aspect of the present times, we willingly their duties when they have no parliamentary
leave it to our readers to determine: But be- contentions to manage; —thirdly, that the pubfore goingfarther, we think it proper to say, that lic councils will be guided by fixed and steady
we impute no corrupt motives to the author principles; -fourthly, that if the Monarch
before us; and that there is, on the contrary, should act in an oppressive manner, it will be
every appearance of his being conscientious- easier for the people to get the better of him
ly persuaded of the advantages of arbitrary than of a whole Parliament. who might act in
power, and sincerely eager to reconcile the the same manner;-fifthly, that the heir apminds of his countrymen to the introduction parent might then be allowed to travel in
of so great a blessing. The truth indeed foreign countries for the improvement of his
seems to be, that having lived so long abroad manners and understanding;-sixthly, and
as evidently to have lost, in a great degree, lastly, that there would be no longer any prethe use of his native language, it is not sur- text for a cry against "what is styled backprising that he should have lost along with stair influence!"
it, a great number of those feelings, without   Such is the sum of Mr. Leckie's pub!'oawhich it really is not possible to reason, in tion; of which, as a curious specimen of the
this country, on the English constitution; and infinite diversity of human opinions and en.
has gradually come, not only to speak, but to dowments, and of the license of political specu.
feel, like a foreigner, as to many of those lation that is still occasionally indulged in in
things which still constitute both the pride this country, we have thought it right that,
and the happiness of his countrymen. We some memorial should be preserved-a little
have no doubt that he would be a very useful more durable than the pamphlet itself seemed.
and enlightened patriot in Sicily; but we likely to affobrd. But though what we have
think it was rather harsh in him to venture already said is probably more than enough to,
before the public with his speculations on the settle the opinion of all reasonable persons.
English government, with his present stock with regard to the merits of the work, we
of information and habits of thinking. Though think we can trace, even in some of the most:
we do not, however, impute to him any thing absurd and presumptuous of its positions, theworse than these disqualifications, there are operation of certain errors, which we have
persons enough in the country to whom it found clouding the views, and infecting the.
will be a sufficient recommendation of any opinions of persons of far sounder understand-.
work, that it inculcates principles of servility; ing  and shall presume, therefore, to offer a,
and who will be abundantly ready to give it few very plain and simple remarks upon some
every chance of making an impression, which of the points which we think we have most
it may derive from their approbation; and in- frequently found either misrepresented or
deed we have already heard such testimonies misunderstood.
in favour of this slender performance, as seem    The most important and radical of those, is.
to impose it upon us as a duty to give some that which relates to the nature and uses of
little account of its contents and some short Monarchy, and the rights and powers of at
opinion of its principles.                sovereign; upon which, therefore, we begThe first part of the task may be performed leave to begin with a few observations. And
in a very moderate compass; for though the here we shall take leave to consider Royalty
learned author has not always the gift of as being, on the whole, but a Human Institu.
writing intelligibly, it is impossible for a dili- tion,-originating in a view to the general
gent reader not to see what he would be at; good, and not to the gratification of the indiand his doctrine, when once fairly understood, vidual upon whom the office is conferred; ot
may readily be reduced to a few very simple at least only capable of being justified, or depropositions.  After preluding on a variety serving to be retained, where it is found, or
of minor topics, and suggesting some curious believed, to be actually beneficial to the whole
enough remedies for our present unhappy con- society. Now we think that, generally speak



566                           GENERAL POLITICS.
ing, it is a highly beneficial institution: and premacy of the richest and most accomplished
that the benefits which it is calculated to confer may be considered as the primeval state of
are great and obvious.                   society. Now this, even if it could be sup.
From the first moment that men began to posed to be peaceable and permanent, is by
associate together, and to act in concert for no means a desirable state for the persons
their general good and protection, it would be subjected to this multifarious and irregular
found that all of them could not take a share authority. But it is plain that it could not be
in consulting and regulating their operations, peaceable,-that even among the rich, and
and that the greater part must submit to the the accomplished, and the daring, some would
direction of certain managers and leaders. be more rich, more daring, and more accomAmong these, again, some one would naturally plished than the rest; and that those in the
assume a pre-eminence; and in time of war foremost ranks who were most nearly on an
especially, would be allowed to exercise a great equality, would be armed against each other
authority. Struggles would as necessarily en- by mutual jealousy and ambition; while those
sue for retaining this post of distinction, and who were a little lower, would combine, out
for supplanting its actual possessor; and of envy and resentment, to defeat or resist, by
whether there was a general acquiescence in their junction, the pretensions of the few who
the principle of having one acknowledged had thus outstripped their original associates.
chief, or a desire to be guided and advised by Thus there would not only be no liberty or
a plurality of those who seemed best qnalified security for the body of the people. but the
for the task, there would be equal hazard, or whole would be exposed to the horror and
rather certainty, of perpetual strife, tumult, distraction of perpetual intestine contentions.
and dissension, from the attempts of ambitious The creation of one Sovereign, therefore,
individuals, either to usurp an ascendancy whom the whole society would acknowledge
over all their competitors, or to dispute with as supreme, was a great point gained for tranhim who had already obtained it, his right to quillity as well as individual independence;
continue its possession. Every one possessed and in order to avoid the certain evils of perof any considerable means of influence would petual struggles for dominion, and the immithus be tempted to aspire to a precarious nent hazard of falling at last under the absoSovereignty; and while the inferior persons lute will of an exasperated conqueror, nothing
of the community would be opposed to each could be so wisely devised as to agree upon
other as adherents of the respective pretenders, the nomination of a King: and thus to get rid
not only would all care of the general good be of a multitude of petty tyrants, and the risk
omitted, but the society would become a prey of military despotism, by the establishment
to perpetual feuds, cabals, and hostilities. of a legitimate monarchy. The first king
subversive of the first principles of its insti- would probably be the most popular and powtution.                                  erful individual in the community; and the
Amrong the remedies which would naturally first idea would in all likelihood be to appoint
present themselves for this great evil, the his successor on account of the same qualifimost efficacious, though not perhaps at first cations: But it would speedily be discovered,
sight the most obvious, would be to provide that this would'give rise at the death of every
some regular and authentic form for the elec- sovereign-and indeed, prospectively, long betion of One acknowledged chief, by a fair but fore it-to the same fatal competitions and
pacific competition; —the term of whose au- dissensions, which had formerly been per-.thority would be gradually prolonged to that petual; and not only hazard a civil war on.of his natural life, — and afterwards extended every accession, but bring the successful com-.to the lives of his remotest descendants. The petitor, to the throne, with feelings of extreme,advantages which seem to us to be peculiar hostility towards one half of his subjects, and
to this arrangement are, first, to disarm the of extreme partiality to the other.  The
ambition of dangerous and turbulent indi- chances of not finding eminent talents for
viduals, by removing the great prize of Su- command in the person of the sovereign,,preme authority, at all times, and entirely. therefore, would soon be seen to be a far less
from competition; and, secondly, to render evil than the sanguinary competitions thai
this authority itself more manageable, and would ensue, if merit were made the sole
Iless hazardous, by delivering it over peace- ground of preferment; and a very little reflec.
ably, and upon expressed or understood con- tion, or experience. would also serve to show,
rditions, to an hereditary prince; instead of that the sort of merit which was most likel3.etting it be seized upon by a fortunate con- to succeed in such a competition, did not pro.
queror, who would think himself entitled to mise a more desirable sovereign, than might
ase it-as conquerors commonly use their be probably reckoned on, in the common
booty-for his own exclusive gratification.    course of hereditary succession. The only
The steps, then, by which we are conducted safe course, therefore, was, to take this Great
to the justification of Hereditary Monarchy, Prize altogether out of the Lottery of human.re shortly as follows. Admitting all men to life-to make the supreme dignity in the state,ie equal in rights, they can never be equal in professedly and altogether independent of
natural endowments,-nor long equal in wealth merit or popularity; and to fix it immutably
and other acquisitions: - Absolute liberty, in a place quite out of the career of ambition.
therefore, or equal participation of power, is   This great point then was gained by the
dltogether out of the question; and a kind of mere institution of Monarchy, and by render.
Aristocracy or disorderly and fluctuating su- ing it hereditary: The chief cause of internal




LECKIE ON BRITISH GOVERNMENT.                            5b7
discord was removed, and the most dangerous may appear, that as kings are now generally
incentive to ambition placed in a great mea- allowed to be mere mortals, they cannot of
sure beyond the sphere of its operation;-and themselves have any greater powers, either
this we have always considered to be the pe- of body or mind, than other individuals, and
culiar and characteristic advantage of that must in fact be inferior in both respects to
form of government. A pretty important chap- verymany of their subjects. Whatever powers
ter, however, remains. as to the extent of the they have, therefore, must be powers conferPowers that ought to be vested in the Mon- red upon them by the consent of the stronger
arch, and the nature of the Checks by which part of their subjects, and are in fact really
the limitation of those powers should be ren- and truly the powers of those persons. The
dered effectual. And here it will be readily most absolute despot accordingly, of whom hieunderstood, that considering, as we do, the tory furnishes any record, must have governchief advantage of monarchy to consist in its ed merely by the free will of those who chose
taking away the occasions of contention for to obey him, in compelling the rest of his subthe First Place in the state, and in a manner jects to obedience. The Sultan, as Mr. Hume
neutralizing that place by separatingit entirely remarks, may indeed drive the bulk of his
from any notion of merit or popularity in the unarmed subjects, like brutes, by mere force;
possessor —we cannot consistently be for al- but he must lead his armed Janissaries like
letting a greater measure of actual power to it men, by their reason and free will. And so it
than is absolutely necessary for answering is in all othergovernments: The powerof the
this purpose. Our notions of this measure, sovereign is nothing else than the power-the
however, are by no means of a jealous or pe- actual force of muscle or of mind-which a
nurious description. We must give enough of certain part of his subjects choose to lend for
real power, and distinction and prerogative, to carrying his orders into effect; and the check
make it truly and substantially the first place or limit to this power is, in all cases, ultimately
in the State, and also to make it impossible and in effect, nothing else than their refusal
for the occupiers of inferior places to endan- to act any longer as the instruments of his
ger the general peace by their contentions;-  pleasure. The check, therefore, is substanfor, otherwise, the whole evils which its in- tially the same in kind, in all cases whatever;
stitution was meant to obviate would recur and must necessarily exist in full vigour in
with accumulated force, and the same fatal every country in the world; though the likecompetitions be renewed among persons of lihood of its beneficial application depends
disorderly ambition, for those other situations, greatly on the structure of society in each par-.
by whatever name they might be called, in ticular nation; and the possibility of applying
which, though nominally subordinate to the it with ease and safety must result wholly
throne, the actual powers of sovereignty were from the contrivances that have been adopted
embodied. But, on the other hand, we would to make it bear, at once gradually and steadily,
give no powers to the Sovereign, or to any on the power it is destined to regulate. It is
other officer in the community, beyond what here accordingly, and here only, that there is
were evidently required for the public good; any material difference between a good and a
-and no powers at all, on the exercise of bad constitution of Monarchical government.
which there was not an efficient control, and   The ultimate and only real limit to what is
for the use of which there was not a substan- called the power of the sovereign, is the retial responsibility. It is in the reconciling of fusal or the consent or co-operation of those
these two conditions that the whole difficulty who possess the substantial power of the comof the theory of a perfect monarchy consists. munity, and who, during their voluntary conIf you do not control your sovereign, he will cert with the sovereign, allow this power of
be in danger of becoming a despot; and if theirs to pass under his name. In considering
you do control him, there is danger, unless whether this refusal is likely to be wisely and
you choose the depository of this control with beneficially interposed, it is material therefore
singular caution, that you create anotherpow- to inquire in whom, in any particular case,
er, that is uncontrolled and uncontrollable-  the power of interposing it is vested  or, in
to be the prey of audacious leaders and out- other words, in what individuals the actual
rageous factions, in spite of the hereditary set- power of coercing and compelling the submistlement of the nominal sovereignty. Though sion of the bulk of the community is intrinsicthere is some difficulty, however, in this pro- ally vested. If every individual were equally
blem, and though we learn from history, that gifted, and equally situated2 the answer would
various errors have been committed in an at- be, In the numerical majority: But as this
tempt at its practical solution, yet we do not never can be the case, this power will freconceive it as by any means insoluble; and quently be found to reside in a very small
think indeed that, with the lights which we proportion of the whole society.
may derive from the experience of our own   In rude times, when there is little intelliconstitution, its demonstration may be effected gence or means of concert and communication,
by a very moderate exertion of sagacity. It a very moderate number of armed and disciwill be best understood, however, by a short plined forces will be able, so long as they
view of the nature of the powers to be control- keep together, to overawe, and actually over,
led, and of the system of checks which have, power the whole unarmed inhabitants, even
at different times, been actually resorted to.  of an extensive region; and accordingly, in
In the first place, then, we must beg leave such times, the necessity of procuring the'o remind our readers, however superfluous it good will and consent of the Soldiery, is the




568                            GENERAL POLITICS.
only check upon the power of the Sovereign; for the general good; and, though the same
or, in other words, the soldiers may do what in substance with those which have been
they choose-and their nominal master can already considered, namely, the refusal of
do nothing which they do not choose. Such those in whom  the real power is vested, ta
is the state of the worst despotisms. The lend it to the monarch for purposes which
check upon the royal authority is the same in they do not approve, is yet infinitely more
substance as in the best administered mon- beneficial in its operation, in consequence of
archies. viz. the refusal of the consent or co- the more fortunate position of those to whom
operation of those who possess for the time the that power now belongs.
natural power of the community: But, from    Thus we see that Kings have no power of
the unfortunate structure of society, which (in their own; and that, even in the purest desthe case supposed) vests this substantial power potisms, they are the mere organs or directors
in a few bands of disciplined ruffians, the of that power which they whe truly possess
check will scarcely ever be interposed for the the physical and intellectual force of the nabenefit of the nation. and will merely operate tion may choose to put at their disposal; and
to prevent the king from doing any thing to are at all times, and under every form of
the prejudice or oppression of the soldiery monarchy, entirely under the control of that
themselves.                                only virtual and effective power. There is at
When civilisation has made a little further bottom, therefore, no such thing, as an unprogress, a number of the leaders of the army, limited monarchy; or indeed as a monar;hy
or their descendants, acquire landed property, that is potentially either more or less limited
and associate together, not merely in their than every other. All kings must act by the
military capacity, but as guardians of their consent of that order or portion of the nation
new acquisitions and hereditary dignities. — which can really command all the rest, and
Their soldiers become their vassals in time of may generally do whatever these substantial
peace; and the real power of the State is masters do not disapprove of: But as it is
gradually transferred from the hands of de- their power which is truly exerted in thle
tached and mercenary battalions, to those of name of the sovereign, so, it is not so much.
a Feudal Nobility. The check on the royal a necessary consequence as an identical proauthority comes then to lie in the refusal of position to say, that where they are clearly
this body to co-operate in such of his measures opposed to the exercise of that power, the
as do not meet with their approbation; and the king has no means whatever of asserting th!
king can now do nothing to the prejudice of slightest authority. This is the universali law
the order of Nobility. The body of the peo- indeed of all governments; and though the
ple fare a little better under the operation of different constitution of society, in the varithis check; —because their interest is much ous stages of its progress, may give a differmore identified with that of their feudal lords, ent character to the controlling power, the
than with that of a standing army of regular principles which regulate its operation are
or disorderly forces.                      substantially the same in all. There is no
As society advances in refinement, and the room, therefore, for the question, whether
arts of peace are developed, men of the lower there should be any control on the power of
orders assemble, and fortify themselves in a king, or what that control should be; beTowns and Cities, and thus come to acquire a cause, as the power really is not the king's,
power Lidependent of their patrons.  Their but belongs inalienably to the stronger part
coprsent also accordingly becomes necessary of the nation itself, whether it derive that
to the development of the public authority strength from discipline, talents, numbers, or
within their communities; and hence another situation, it is impossible that it should be
check to what is called the power of the sove- exercised at his instigation, without the conreign. And, finally, to pass-over some inter- currence, or acquiescence at least, of those in
mnediate stages, when society has attained its whom it is substantially vested.
full measure of civility and intelligence, and    Such, then, is the abstract and fundamental
is filled fiom top to bottom with wealth and doctrine as to the true nature of Monarchical
industry, and reflection; when every thing and indeed of every other species of Political
that is done or felt by any one class, is com- power: and, abstract as it is, we cannot help
municated on the instant to all the rest,-and  thinking that it goes far to settle all controa vast proportion of the whole population takes versies as to the rights of sovereigns, and
an interest in the fortunes of the country, and ought to be kept clearly in mind in proceed
Iossesses a certain intelligence as to the public ing to the more practical views of the subject.
conduct of its rulers,-then the substantial For, though what we have now said as to all
power of the nation may be said to be vested actual power belonging to the predominant
m tne Nation at large; or at least in those mass of physical and intellectual force in every
individuals who can habitually command the community, and the certainty of its ultimately
good-will and support of the greater part of impelling the public authority in the direction
them; —and the ultimate check to the power of its interests and inclinations, be unquestionof the sovereign comes to consist in the gen- ably true in itself; it is still of infinite imporeral unwillingness of The People to comply tance to consider what provisions are made by
with those orders, which, if at all united in the form of the government. or-what is called
their resolution, they may now  effectually its Constitution, for the ready operation of
disobey and resist.  This check, when ap- those interests and inclinations upon the imWlied a, all, is likely, of course, to be applied mediate agents of the public authority. That




LECKIE ON BRITISH GOVERNMENT.                            569
they will operate with full effect in the long- unanimity as to interfere at all; and then,
run, whether those provisions be good or bad, they do it at last, in the form of brutal viol
or whether there be any such provision for- lence and vindictive infliction. Every admomally recognised in the government or not, nition, in short, given to their elected leadel
we take to be altogether indisputable: But, in is preceded by their suffering, and followed
the one case, they will operate only after long by his death; and every application of the
intervals of suffering, — and by means of much check which nature itself has provided for
suffering; while, on the other, they will be the abuse of all delegated power, is accomconstantly and almost insensibly in action, panied by a total dissolution of the governand will correct the first declination of the ment, and the hazard of a long series of revovisible index of public authority, from the lutionary tumults.
natural line of action of the radical power of   This is the history of all Military despowhich it should be the exponent, or rather tisms, in barbarous and uninstructed commuwill prevent any sensible variation or discon- nities. When they get on to Feudal aristocformity in their respective movements. The racies, matters are a little mended; both by
whole difference, indeed, between a good and the transference of the actual power to a
a bad government, appears to us to consist in larger and worthier body, and by the introthis particular, viz. in the greater or the less duction of some sort of machinery or contrifacility which it affords for the early, the gra- vance, however rude, to insure or facilitate
dual and steady operation of the substantial the operation of this power upon the ostensible
Power of the community upon its constituted agents of the government. The person of the
Authorities; while the freedom, again, and Sovereign is now surrounded by some kind
ultimate happiness of the nation depend on of Council or parliament; and threats and
the degree in which this substantial power is remonstrances are addressed to him, with
possessed by a greater or a smaller, and a considerable energy, by such of its members
more or less moral and instructed part of the as take offence at the measures he proposes.
whole society-a matter almost independent Such, however, is the imperfection of the
of the form or name of the government, and means devised for these communications, and
determined in a great degree by the progress'such the difficulty of collecting the sentiments
which the society itself has made in civilisa- of those who can make them with effect, that
tion and refinement.                      this necessary operation is still performed in
Thus, to take the most abominable of all a very clumsy and hazardous manner. These
governments-a ferocious despotism, such as are the times, accordingly, when Barons enter
that of Morocco-where an Emperor, in con- their protests, by openly waging war on their
cert with a banditti of armed ruffians, butch- Sovereign, or each other; and, even when
ers, plunders, and oppresses the whole un- they are tolerably agreed among themselves
armed population,-the check to the monar- can think of no better way of controlling or
chical power is complete, even there, in the enlightening their monarch, than by marching
disobedience or dissatisfaction of the banditti; down in arms to Runnymede, and compelling
although, from the character of that body, it him, by main force, and in sight of all his
affords but little protection to the community, people, to sign a charter of their liberties.
and, from the want of any contrivance for its The evils, in short, are the same in substance
early or systematic operation, can scarcely as in the sanguinary revolutions of Morocco.
ever be applied, even for its own objects, but The mischief goes to a dangerous length bewith irreparable injury to both the parties fore any remedy is applied; and the remedy
concerned. As there is no arrangement by itself is a great mischief: Although, from the
which the general sense of this lawless sol- improved state of intelligence and civilisation,
diery can be collected, upon any proposed the outrages are not on either side so horrible.
measures of their leader, or the moment ascer-   The next stage brings us to commercial and
tained when the degree of his oppression ex- enlightened times, in which the real strength
ceeds that of their patience, they never begin and power of the nation is scattered pretty
to act till his outrages have gone far beyond widely through the whole of its population,
what was necessary to decide their resistance; and in which, accordingly, the check upon
and accordingly, he on the one hand, goes on the misapplication of that power must arise
decapitating and torturing, for months after from the dissatisfaction of that great body,
all the individuals, by whose consent alone he The check must always exist,-and is sure,
was enabled to take this amusement, were sooner or later, to operate with sufficient
tra]uly of opinion that it should have been dis- efficacy; but the safety and the promptitude
continued; and, on the other, receives the of its operation depend, in this case as in all
intimation at last, not in the form of a re- the others, upon the nature of the contrivances
monstrance, upon which he might amend, which the Constitution has provided, first, for
but in the shape of a bow-string, a dose of collecting and ascertaining the sentiments of
poison, or a stroke of the dagger. Thus, from  that great and miscellaneous aggregate in
the mere want of any provision for ascertain- whom the actual power is now vested; and,
ing the sentiments of the individuals possess- secondly, for communicating this in an au.
ing the actual power of the state, or for com- thentic manner to the executive officers of
municating them to the individual appointed the government.  The most effectual and
to administer it, infinite evils result to both complete way of effecting this, is undoubtedly
parties. The first suffer intolerable oppres- by a Parliament, so elected as to represent
*ieon,.efore they feel such confidence in their pretty fairly the views of all the considerable




570                          GENERAL POLITICS.
classes of the people, and so constituted as tention. It refused, therefore, to acknowledge
to have at all times the means, both of sug- this body as the organ of the supreme power
gesting those views to the executive, and of of the State; and was only undeceived when
effectually checking or preventing its malver- it fell before its actual exertion. In France
sations. Where no such institution exists, the again, the error, though more radical, was of
tranquillity of the state will always be ex- the very same nature. The administration
posed to considerable hazard; and the danger of the government was conducted, up to the
of great convulsions will unfortunately become very eve of the Revolution, upon the same
greater, exactly in proportion as the body of the principles as when the Nobles were every
people become more wealthy and intelligent. thing, and the People nothing;-though the
Under the form  of society, however, of people, in the mean time, had actually become
which we are now speaking, there must far more than a match for the nobility, in
always be some channels, however narrow  wealth, in intelligence, and in the knowledge
and circuitous, by which the sense of the peo- of their own importance. The Constitution,
ple may be let in to act upon the administrators however, provided no means for the peaceable
of their government. The channel of the press, but authoritative intimation of this change to
for example, and of general literature-provin- the official rulers; or for the gradual developcial magistracies and assemblies, such as the ment of the new power which had thus been
States and Parliaments of old France-even generated in the community; and the consethe ordinary courts of law-the stage —the quence was, that its more indirect indications
pulpit-and all the innumerable occasions of were overlooked, and nothing yielded to its
considerable assemblages for deliberation on accumulating pressure, till it overturned the
local interests, election to local offices, or for throne, —and overwhelmed with its wasteful
mere solemnity and usage of festivity-which flood the whole ancient institutions of the
must exist in all large, ancient, and civilised country. If there had been any provision in
communities, may afford indications of that the structure of the government, by which the
general sentiment, which must ultimately gov- increasing power of the lower orders had been
ern all things; and may serve to admonish ob- enabled to make itself distinctly felt, and to
servant kings and courtiers how far the true bear upon the constituted authorities, as gradupossessors of the national power are likely to ally as it was generated, the great calamities
sanction any of its proposed applications. — which have befallen that nation might have
Where those indications, however, are ne- been entirely avoided,-the condition of the
glected or misconstrued; or where, from other monarchy might have insensibly accommo.
circumstances, institutions that may seem  dated itself to the change in the condition of
better contrived, fail either to represent the the people,-and a most beneficial alteration
true sense of the ruling part of the commu- might have taken place in its administration,
nity. or to convince the Executive magistrate without any shock or convulsion in any part
that they do represent it, there, even in the of the community. For want of some such
most civilised and intelligent countries, the provision, however, the Court was held in igmost hazardous and tremendous distractions norance of the actual power of the people, till
may ensue; —such distractions as broke the it burst in thunder on their heads. The pent*peace, and endangered the liberties of this up vapours disploded with the force of an
country in the time of Charles the First-or earthquake; and those very elements that
such as have recently torn in pieces the frame would have increased the beauty and strength
of society in France; and in their conse- of the constitution by their harmonious comquences still threaten the destiny of the world. bination, crumbled its whole fabric into.ruin
Both those convulsions, it appears to us, by their sudden and untempered collision.
arose from nothing else than the want of some The bloody revolutions of the Seraglio were
proper or adequate contrivance for ascertain- acted over again in the heart of the most
ing the sentiments of those holding the actual polished and enlightened nation of Europe;strength of the nation,-and for conveying and from the very same cause-the want of a
those sentiments, with the full evidence of channel for conveying, constantly and tempertheir authenticity, to the actual administrators ately and effectually, the sense of those who
of their affairs. And the two cases, we take possess power, to those whose office it was to:., were more nearly alike than has generally direct its application; —and the outrage was
been imagined; for though the House of Com- only the greater and more extensive, that the
mons had an existence long before the time body among whom this power was diffused
of King Charles, it had not previously been was larger, and the period of its unsuspected
recognised as the vehicle of commanding accumulation of longer duration.
opinions, nor the proper organ of that great   The great point, then, is to insure a free,
body to whom the actual power of the State an authoritative, and an uninterrupted comhad been. recently and insensibly transferred. munication between the ostensible adminis.
The Court still considered the effectual power trators of the national power and its actual
to reside in the feudal aristocracy, by the' constituents and depositories; and the chief
greater part of which it was supported; and, distinction between a good and a bad governwhen the Parliament, or rather the House of ment consists in the degree in which it affords
Commons, spoke in name of the People of the means of such a communication. The
England, thought it might safely disregard the main end of government, to be sure is, that
admonitions of a body which had not hitherto wise laws should be enacted and enforced
advanced any such authoritative claims to at- but such is the condition of human infirmity




LECKIE ON BRITISH GOVERNMENT.                              571
that the hazards of sanguinary contentions   In the first place, then, it does not appear
about the exercise of power, is a much greater to us that it can be seriously maintained that
and more imminent evil than a considerable any national or salutary purpose can ever be
obstruction in the making or execution of the served by recognising the private will or voice
laws; and the best government therefore is, of the King as an individual, as an element in
not that which promises to make the bet the political government, especially in an Helaws, and to enforce them  most vigorously, reditary monarchy. The person upon whom
but that which guards best against the tre- that splendid lot may fall, not having been
mendous conflicts to which all administrations selected for the office on account of any proof
of government, and all exercise of political or presumption of his fitness for it, but being
power is so apt to give rise. It happens, for- called to it as it were by mere accident, may
tunately indeed, that the same arrangements be fairly presumed to have less talent or cawhich most effectually insure the peace of pacity than any one of the individuals who
society against those disorders, are also, on have made their own way to a place of inthe whole, the best calculated for the pur- fluence or authority in his councils; and his
poses of wise and efficient legislation. But voice or opinion therefore, considered naturally
we do not hesitate to look upon their negative and in itself, must be of less value or intrinsic
or preventive virtues as of a far higher cast authority than that of any other person in high
than their positive and active ones; and to office under him:  And when it is farther
consider a representative legislature as incom- considered that this Sovereign may be very
parably of more value, when it truly enables young or very old-almost an idiot-almost a
the efficient force of the nation to control and di- madman —and altogether a dotard, while he
rect the executive, than when it merely enacts is still in the full possession and the lawful
wholesome statutes in its legislative capacity. exercise of the whole authority of his station,
The result of the whole then is, that in a it must seem perfectly extravagant to maincivilised and enlightened country, the actual tain that it can be of advantage to the nation,
power of the State resides in the great body that his individual wishes or opinions should
of the people, and especially among the more be the measure or the condition of any one
wealthy and intelligent in all the different act of legislation or national policy. —Assuredranks of which it consists; and consequently, ly it is not for his wisdom  or his patriotism,
that the administration of a government can and much less for his own delight and gratifinever be either safe or happy, unless it be cation, that an hereditary monarch is placed
conformable to the wishes and sentiments of upon the the throne of a free people; and this
that great body; while there is little chance obvious consideration alone might lead us at
of its answering either of these conditions, once to the true end and purpose of royalty.
unless the forms of the Constitution provide   But the letter and theory of the English
some means for the regular, constant, and au- Constitution recognise the individual will of
thentic expression of their sentiments,-to the Sovereign, just as little as reason and
which, when so expressed, it is the undoubted common sense can require it, as an integral
duty, as well as the obvious interest of the element in that constitution. It declares that
executive to conform. A Parliament, there- the King as an individual can do no wrong,
fore, which really and truly represents the and can be made accountable for nothingsense and opinions-we mean the general and  but that his ministers and advisers shall be
mature sense, not the occasional prejudices responsible for all his acts without any excepand fleeting passions-of the efficient body tion-or at least with the single exception of
of the people, and which watches over and the act of naming those advisers. In every
effectually controls every important act of the one act of his peculiar and official Prerogative,
executive magistrate, is necessary, in a coun- in which, if in any thing, his individual and
try like this, for the tranquillity of the govern- private will must be understood to have been
inent, and the ultimate safety of the Monarchy exerted, the Constitution sees only the will
itself, —much more even than for the enact- and the act of his ministers. The King's speech
ment of laws; and, in proportion as it varies — the speech pronounced by his own lips, and
from this description, or relaxes in this con- as his voluntary act in the face of the whole
trol, will the peace of the country and the nation-is the speech of the minister; and as
security of the government be endangered.   such, is openly canvassed, and condemned if
But then comes Mr. Leckie, and a number need be, by the houses of Parliament, in the
of loyal gentlemen, from Sicily, or other places, ordinary course of their duty. The King's
exclaiming that this is mere treason and re- personal answers to addresses-his declarapublicanism,-and asking whether the king is tions of peace or war —the honours he personto have no will or voice of his own?-what is ally confers-the bills he personally passes or
to become of the balance of the Constitution rejects-are all considered by the Constitution
if he is to be reduced to a mere cypher added as the acts only of his counsellors. It is not
to the end of every ministerial majority?-  only the undoubted right, but the unquestionand how, if the office is thus divested of all able duty of the Houses of Parliament, to conreal power, it can ever fulfil the purposes for sider of their propriety-to complain of them
which we ourselves have preferred Monarchy if they think them inexpedient-to get them
to all other constitutions? We shall endeavour rescinded if they admit of such a correction;
to answer these questions; —and after the pre- and at all events to prosecute, impeach, and
ceding full exposition of our premises, we punish those advisers-to whom, and not to
think they may be answered very briefly.    the Sovereign in whose name they run, they




572                            GENERAL POLITICS.
are exclusively attributed. This great doc- upon the very unlikely, but not impossible
trine, then, of ministerial responsibility, an-  supposition, that the nominal representatives
swers the first question of Mr. Leckie and his of the people are really more estranged from
adherents, as lo the enormity of subjecting the their true sentiments than the ministers of the
personal will and opinion of the Sovereign at Crown, that it can ever be safe or allowable
all times to the control of those who represent for the latter to refuse immediate compliance
the efficient power of the community. Mr. with the will of those representatives.
Leckie himself, it is to be observed, is for leav-   There remains then but one other question,
ing this grand feature of ministerial responsi- viz. Whether we are really for reducing the
bility, even when he is for dispensing with King to the condition of a mere tool in the
the attendance of Parliaments;-though, to be hands of a ministerial majority, without any
sure, among his other omissions, he has for- real power or influence whatsoever; and whegotten to tell us by whom, and in what man- ther, upon this supposition, there can be any
ner, it could be enforced, after the abolition use in the institution of monarchy-as the
of those troublesome assemblies.          minister, on this view of things, must be reThe next question relates to the theoretical garded as the real sovereign, and his office is
balance of the Constitution, which they say still open to competition, as the reward of danimplies that the will and the power of the gerous and disorderly ambition? Now, the anMonarch is to be a separate and independent swer to this is a denial of the assumption upon
element in the government. We have not left which the question is raised. The King, upon
ourselves room now to answer this at large; our view of his office-which it has been seen
nor indeed do we think it necessary; and ac- is exactly that taken by the Constitutioncordingly we shall make but two remarks in would still hold, indisputably, the first place
regard to it, and that in the most summary in the State, and possess a substantial power,
manner. The first is, that the powers ascribed not only superior to that which any minister
to the Sovereign, in the theory of the Consti- could ever obtaii under him, but sufficient to
tution, are not supposed to be vested in him  repress the pretensions of any one who, under
as an insulated and independent individual-  any other form  of government, might be
but in him as guided and consubstantiated tempted to aspire to the sovereignty. The
with his responsible counsellors-that the King, King of England, it will be remembered, is a
in that balance, means not the person of the perpetual member of the cabinet-and perreigning prince, but the department of the petually the First Member of it. No disapExecutive government-the whole body of probation of its measures, whether expressed
ministers and their dependants-to whom, for by votes of the Houses, or addresses from the
the sake of convenience and dispatch, the ini- people. can turn him out of his situation; and
tiative of many important measures is entrust- he has also the power of nominating its other
ed; and who are only entitled or enabled to members; not indeed the power of maintaincarry on business, under burden of their re- ing them in their offices against the sense of
sponsibility to Parliament, and in reliance on the nation-but the power of trying the ex.
its ultimate support. The second remark is, periment, and putting it on the country to take
that the balance of the Constitution, in so far the painful and difficult step of insisting on
as it has any real existence, will be found to their removal.  If he have any portion of
subsist almost entirely in the House of Com- ministerial talents, therefore, he must have,
mons, which possesses exclusively both the in the first place, all the power that could atpower of impeachment, and the power of tach to a Perpetual Minister-with all the pegranting supplies; and has besides, the most culiar influence that is inseparable from the
natural and immediate communication with splendour of his official station: and, in the
that great body of the Nation, in whom the second place, he has the actual power, if not
power of control over all the branches of the absolutely to make or'unmake all the other
Legislature is ultimately vested. The Execu- members of his cabinet at his pleasure, at least
tive, therefore, has its chief Ministers in that to choose, at his own discretion, among all
House, and exerts in that place all the influ- who are not upon very strong grounds excepence which is attached to its situation. If it tionable to the country at large.
is successfully opposed there, it would for the   Holding it to be quite clear, then, that the
most part be infinitely dangerous for it to think private and individual will of the sovereign is
of resisting in any other quarter. But if it not to be recognised as a separate element in
were to exercise its legal prerogative, by re- the actual legislation, or administrative govfusing a series of favourite bills, or disregard- ernment of the country, and that it must in
ing an unanimous address of the Commons, all cases give way to the mature sense of the
the natural consequence would be, that the nation, we shall still find, that his place is
Commons would retort, by exercising their conspicuously and beyond all question the
legal privilege of withholding the supplies; First in the State, and that it is invested with
and as things could not go on for a moment on quite as much substantial power as is necessasuch a footing, the King must either submit ry to maintain all other offices in a condition of
at discretion, or again bethink himself of rais- subordination. To see this clearly, indeed, it
ing his royal standard against that of a Parlia- is only necessary to consider, a little in detail,
mentary army. The general view, indeed,  what is the ordinary operation of the regal
which we have taken above of the true nature power, and on what occasions the necessary
)f that which is called the power of the-Mon- checks to which we have alluded come in to
arch, is enough to snow; that it can only be control it. The King, then, as the presiding




LECKIE ON BRITISH GOVERNMENT                             573
member of the cabinet, can not only resist, If addresses and clamours are disregarded.
but suggest, or propose, or recommend any recourse may be had to arms; and an open
thing which he pleases for the adoption of civil war be left again to determine, whether
that executive council; —and his suggestions the sense of the people at large be, or be not,
must at all times be more attended to than resolutely against its adoption.  This last
tnose of any other person of the same know- species of check on the power of the Soveledge or capacity. Such, indeed, are the in- reign, no political arrangement, and no change
destructible sources of influence belonging to in the Constitution, can obviate or prevent,
his situation, that, if he be only compos mentis, and as all the other checks of which we have
he may rely upon having more authority than spoken refer ultimately to this, so, the defence
any two of the gravest and most experienced of their necessity and justice is complete,
individuals with whom he can communicate; when we merely say, that their use is to preand that there will be a far greater disposition vent a recurrence to this last extremity-and,
to adopt his recommendations, than those of by enabling the sense of the nation to repress
the wisest and most popular minister that the pernicious counsels in the outset, through the
country has ever seen. He may, indeed, be safe and pacific channels of the cabinet and
outvoted even in: the cabinet;-the absurdity the parliament, to remove the necessity of reof his suggestions may be so palpable, or their sisting them at last, by the dreadful expedient
danger so great, that no habitual deference, of actual force and compulsion.
or feeling of personal dependence, may be   If a king, under any form of monarchy,
sufficient to induce his advisers to venture on attempt to act against the sense of the comtheir adoption. This, however, we imagine, manding part of the population, he will inevwill scarcely be looked upon as a source of itably be resisted and overthrown. This is
national weakness or hazard; and is, indeed, not a matter of institution or policy; but a
an accident that may befal any sovereign, necessary result from the nature of his office,
however absolute-since the veriest despot and of the power of which he is the adminiscannot work without tools-and even a mili- trator-or rather from the principles of human
tary sovereign at the head of his army. must nature. But that form of monarchy is the
submit to abandon any scheme which that worst-both for the monarch and for the peoarmy positively refuses to execute. If he is ple-which exposes him the most to the shock
baffled in one cabinet, however the King of of such ultimate resistance; and that is the
England may in general repeat the experi- best, which interposes the greatest number
ment in another; and change his-counsellors of intermediate bodies between the oppressive
over and over, till he find some who are more purpose of the king and his actual attempt to
courageous or more complying.             carry it into execution, —which tries the proBut, suppose that the Cabinet acquiesces:-  jected measure upon the greatest number of
the Parliament also may no doubt oppose, and selected samples of the public sense, before
defeat the execution of the project. The it comes into collision with its general mass,Cabinet may be outvoted in the House of and affords the most opportunities for retreat,
Commons, as the Sovereign may be outvoted and the best cautions for advance, before the
in the Cabinet; and all its other members battle is actually joined. The cabinet is premay be displaced by votes of that House. sumed to know more of the sentiments of the
The minister who had escaped being dis- nation than the king; —and the parliament to
missed by the King through his compliance know more than the cabinet. Both these
with the Royal pleasure, may be dismissed bodies. too, are presumed to be rather more
for that compliance, by the voice of the under the personal influence of the king than
Legislature. But the Sovereign, with whom, the great body of the nation; and therefore,
upon this supposition, the objectionable mea- whatever suggestions of his are ultimately
sure originated, is not dismissed; and may rejected in those deliberative assemblies,
not only call another minister to his councils must be held to be such as would have been
to try this same measure a second time, but still less acceptable to the bulk of the commay himself dismiss the Parliament by which munity. By rejecting them there, however,
it had been censured; and submit its pro- by silent votes or clamorous harangues, the
ceedings to the consideration of another as- nation is saved from the necessity of rejecting
sembly! We really cannot see any want of them, by actual resistance and insurrection in
effective power in such an order of things; the field. The person and the office of the
nor comprehend how the royal authority is monarch remain untouched, and untainted for
rendered altogether nugatory and subordinate, all purposes of good; and the peace of the
merely by requiring it to have ultimately the country is maintained, and its rights asserted,
concurrence of the Cabinet and of the Legis- without any turbulent exertion of its power.
lature. The last stage of this hypothesis, The whole frame and machinery of the conhowever) will clear all the rest.         stitution, in short, is contrived for the express
The King's measure may triumph in par- purpose of preventing the kingly power from
liament as well as in the council-and yet it dashing itself to pieces against the more radmay be resisted by the Nation. The parlia- ical power of the people: and those institument may be outvoted in the country, as well tions that are absurdly supposed to restrain
as the cabinet in the parliament; and if the the authority of the sovereign within too narmeasure. even in this last stage, and after all row limits, are in fact its great safeguards
these tests of its safety, be not abandoned, and protectors, by providing for the timely
the most dreadful consequences may ensue. and peaceful operation of that great control



b74                            GENERAL POLITICS.
ling power, which it could only elude for a that this submission is itself an evil-and an
season, at the expense of much certain mis- evil only inferior to those through which it
ery to the people, and the hazard of final must ultimately seek its relief. If any form
destruction to itself.                    of tyranny, therefore, were as secure from
Mr. Leckie, however, and his adherents, terrible convulsions as a regulated freedom,
can see nothing of all this. The facility of it would not cease for that to be a far less decasting down a single tyrant, we have already sirable condition of existence; and as the
seen, is one of the prime advantages which mature sense of a whole nation may be fairly
he ascribes to the institution of Simple mon- presumed to point more certainly to the true
archy;-and so much is this advocate of means of their happiness than the single
kingly power enamouredc of the uncourtly opinion even of a patriotic king, so it must be
doctrine of resistance, that he not only recog- right and reasonable, in all cases, that his
nises it as a familiar element in the constitu- opinion should give way to theirs; and that a
tion, but lays it down in express terms, that power should be generated, if it did not natuit affords the only remedy for all political cor- rally and necessarily exist, to insure its preruption.  "History," he observes,'"has fur- dominance.
hished us with no example of the reform of a   We have still a word or two to say on the
corrupt and tyrannical government, but either alleged inconsistency and fluctuation of all
from intestine u'ar, or conquest from without. public councils that are subjected to the conThus, the objection against a simple mon- trol of popular assemblies, and on the unprinarchy, because there is no remedy for its cipled violence of the factions to which they
abuse, holds the same, but in a greater de- are said to give rise. The first of these topics,
gree, against any other form. Each is borne however, need not detain us long. If it be
with as long as possible; and when the evil is meant, that errors in public measures are
at its greatest height, the nation either rises more speedily detected, and more certainly
against it, or, not having the means of so doing, repaired, when they are maturely and freely
sinks into abject degradation and misery."   discussed by all the wisdom and all the talent
Such, however, are not our principles of of a nation. than when they are left to the
policy; on the contrary, we hold, that the blind guidance of the passions or conceit of
chief use of a free constitution is to prevent an individual; —if it be meant, that, under a
the recurrence of these dreadful extremities: Simple monarchy, we should have persevered
and that the excellence of a limited monarchy longer and more steadily in the principles of
consists less in the good laws, and the good the Slave Trade, of Catholic Proscription, and
administration of law, to which it naturally of the Orders in Council:-then we cheerfully
gives birth, than in the security it affords admit the justice of the charge —we readily
against such a melancholy alternr,tive. To yield to those governments the praise of sueh
some, we know, who have been accustomed consistency and such perseverance-and offer
to the spectacle of long-established despo- no apology for that change from folly to wistisms, the hazards of such a terrific regenera- dom, and from cruelty to mercy, which is pro.
tion appear distant and inconsiderable; and, duced by the variableness of a free constiif they could only prolong the intervals of tution. But if it be meant that an absolute
patient submission, and polish away some monarch keeps the faith which he pledges
of the harsher features of oppression, they more religiously than a free people, or that he
imagine a state of things would result more is less liable to sudden and capricious variatranquil and desirable than can ever be pre- tions in his policy, we positively deny the
sented by the eager and salutary contentions truth of the imputation, and boldly appeal to
of a free government. To such persons we the whole course of history for its confutation.
shall address but two observations. The first, What nation, we should like to know, ever stood
that though the body of the people may in- half so high as our own, for the reputation of
deed be kept in brutish subjection for ages, good faith and inviolable fidelity to its allies?
where the state of society, as to intelligence Or in what instance has the national honour
and property, is such that the actual power been impeached, by the refusal of one set of
and command of the nation is vested in a few  ministers to abide by the engagements enterbands of disciplined troops, this could never ed into by their predecessors'?-With regard
be done in a nation abounding in independent to mere caprice and inconsistency again, will
wealth, very generally given to reading and it be seriously maintained, that councils, de.
reflection, and knit together in all its parts pending upon the individual will of an absoby a thousand means of communication and lute sovereign-who may be a boy, or a girl,
ties of mutual interest and sympathy; and or a dotard, or a driveller-are more likely
least of all could it be done in a nation already to be steadily and wisely pursued, than those
accustomed to the duties and enjoyments of that are taken up by a set of experienced
freedom, and regarding the safe and honour- statesmen, under the control of a vigilant and
able struggles it is constantly obliged to main- intelligent public? It is not by mere popular
tain in its defence, as the most ennobling and clamour-by the shouts or hisses of an igno.
delightful of its exercises. The other remark rant and disorderly mob-but by the deep, the
is, that even if it were possible, as it is not. slow, and the collected voice of the intelligent
to rivet and shackle down an enlightened na- and enlightened part of the community, that
tion in such a way as to make it submit for the councils of a free nation are ultimately
some time, inapparent quietness, to the abuses guided. But if they were at the disposal of a
of arbitrary power, it is never to be forgotten rabble-what rabble, we would asks is so itg




LECKIE ON BRITISH GOVERNMENT.                            57
norant, so contemptible, so fickle, false, and it has to maintain; —the party in Oppositlon,
empty of all energy of purpose or principle, therefore, must be marshalled in the same
as the rabble that invests the palaces of arbi- way. When bad men combine, good men
trary kings-the favourites, the mistresses, must unite: —and it would not be less hopethe panders, the flatterers and intriguers, who less for a crowd of worthy citizens to take the
succeed or supplant each other in the crum- field without leaders or discipline, against a
bling soil of his favour, and so frequently dis- regular army, than for individual patriots to
pose of all that ought to be at the command think of opposing the influence of the Soveof wisdom and honour?                    reign by their separate and uncombined exLooking only to the eventful history of our ertions. As to the length which they shoulk
own day, will any one presume to say, that be permitted to go in support of the common
the conduct of the simple monarchies of Eu- cause, or the extent to which each ought to
rope has afforded us, for the last twenty years, submit his private opinion to the general sense
any such lessons of steady and unwavering of his associates, it does not appear to uspolicy as to make us blush for our own demo- though casuists may varnish over dishonour,
cratical inconstancy! What, during that pe- and purists startle at shadows-either that
riod, has been, the conduct of Prussia-of any man of upright feelings can be often at a
Russia-of Austria herself-of every state, in loss for a rule of conduct, or that, in point of
short, that has not been terrified into constan- fact, there has ever been any blameable en:
cy by the constant dread of French violence? cess in the maxims upon which the great par
And where, during all that time, are we to look ties of this country have been generally con,
for any traces of manly firmness, but in the ducted. The leading principle is. that a mait
conduct and councils of the only nation whose should satisfy himself that the party to Mwhich
measures were at all controlled by the influ- he attaches himself means well to the counence of popular sentiments? If that nation try, and that more substantial good will actoo was not exempt from the common charge crue to the nation from its coming into power,
of vacillation-if she did fluctuate between than from the success of any other body of
designs to restore the Bourbons, and to enrich men whose success is at all within the limits
herself by a share of their spoils-if she did of probability. Upon this principle, therefore,
contract one deep stain on her faith and her he will support that party in all things which
humanity, by encouraging and deserting the he approves-in all things that are indifferent
party of the Royalists in La Vendee-if she -and even in some things which he partly
did waver and wander from expeditions into disapproves, provided they neither touch the
Flanders to the seizure of West Indian islands, honour and vital interests of the country, nor
arnd from menaces to extirpate Jacobinism to imply any breach of the ordinary rules of
missions courting its alliance-will any man morality -Upon the same principle he will
pretend to say, that these signs of infirmity attack not only all that he individually disapof purpose were produced by yielding to the proves in the conduct of the adversary, but all
varying impulses of popular opinions, or the that might appear indifferent and tolerable
alternate preponderance of hostile factions in enough to a neutral spectator. if it afford an
the state'  Is it not notorious, on the contra- opportunity to weaken this adversary in the
ry, that they all occurred during that lament- public opinion, and to increase the chance of
able but memorable period, when the alarm  bringing that party into. power from which
excited by the aspect of new dangers had in alone he sincerely believes that any sure or
a manner extinguished the constitutional spirit systematic good is to be expected. Farther
of party, and composed the salutary conflicts than this we do not believe that the leaders
of the nation —that they occurred in the first or respectable followers of any considerable
ten years of Mr. Pitt's war administration, party, intentionally allow themselves to go.
when opposition was almost extinct, and when Their zeal, indeed, and the heats and passions
the government was not only more entirely in engendered in the course of the conflict, may
the hands of one man than it had been at any sometimes hurry them  into measures for
time since the days of Cardinal Wolsey, but which an impartial spectator cannot find this
when the temper and tone of its administra- apology:-but to their own consciences and
tion approached very nearly to that of an ar- honour we are persuaded that they generally
bitrary monarchy?                        stand acquitted; —and, on the score of duty or
On the doctrine of parties and party dissen- morality, that is all that can be required of
sions, it is now too late for us to enter at human beings. For the baser retainers of the
large;-and indeed when we recollect what party indeed-those marauders who follow in
Mr. Btlrke has written upon that subject,ed we the rear of every army, not for battle but for
do not know why we should wish for an op- booty-who concern themselves in no way
portunity of expressing our feeble sentiments. about the justness of the quarrel, or the fairParties are necessary in all free governments ness of the field —who plunder the dead,
— and are indeed the characteristics by which and butcher the wounded, and desert the unsuch governments may be known. One party, prosperous, and betray the daring; —for those
that of the Rulers or the Court, is necessarily wretches who truly belong to no party, and are
formed and disciplined from the permanence a disgrace and a drawback upon all, we shall
of its chief, and the uniformity of the interests assuredly make no apology, nor propose any
measures of toleration. The spirit by which
* See his " Thoughts an the Cause of the present they are actuated is the very opposite of that
Discontents." Sub initi —-et passim.      spirit which is generated by the parties of a




576                            GENERAL POLITICS.
free people; and accordingly it is among the an enumeration of the advantages of absolute
advocates of arbitrary power that such per- monarchy;-and we are tempted to follow his
sons, after they have served their purpose by example, by concluding with a dry catalogue
a pretence of patriotic zeal, are ultimately of the advantages of free government-each
found to range themselves.                of which would require a chapter at least as
We positively deny, then, that the interests long as that which we have now bestowed
of the country have ever been sacrificed to a upon one of them. Next, then, to that of its
vindictive desire to mortify or humble a rival superior security from great reverses and atro.
party;-though we freely admit that a great cities, of which we have already spoken at
deal of the time and the talent that might be sufficient length, we should be disposed to
devoted more directly to her service, is wasted rank that pretty decisive feature, of the suin such an endeavour. This; however, is un- perior Happiness which it confers upon all
avoidable-nor is it possible to separate those the individuals who live under it. The condiscussions, which are really necessary to ex- sciousness of liberty is a great blessing and enpose the dangers or absurdity of the practical joyment in itself.-The occupation it affords
measures proposed by a party, from those -the importance it confers-the excitement
which have really no other end but to expose of intellect, and the elevation of spirit which
it to general ridicule or odium. This too, it implies, are all elements of happiness pehowever, it should be remembered, is a point culiar to this condition of society, and quite
in which the country has a still deeper; though separate and independent of the external ada more indirect interest than in the former; vantages with which it may be attended.
since it is only by such means that a system  In the second place, however, liberty makes
that is radically vicious can be exploded, or a men more Industrious. and consequently more
set of men fundamentally corrupt and incapa- generally prosperous and Wealthy; the result
pable removed. If the time be well spent, of which is, both that they have among them
therefore, which is occupied in preventing or more of the good things that wealth can propalliating some particular act of impolicy or cure, and that the resources of the State are
oppression, it is impossible to grudge that by greater for all public purposes. In the third
which the spring and the fountain of all such place, it renders men more Valiant and Highacts may be cut off.                      minded, and also promotes the development
With regard to the tumult-the disorder —  of Genius and Talents, both by the unbounded
the danger to public peace-the vexation and career it opens up to the emulation of every
discomfort which certain sensitive persons individual in the land, and by the natural efand great lovers of tranquillity represent as fect of all sorts of intellectual or moral exthe fruits of our political dissensions, we can- citement to awaken all sorts of intellectual
not help saying that we have no sympathy and moral capabilities. In the fourth place,
with their delicacy or their timidity. What it renders men more Patient, and Docile, and
they look upon as a frightful commotion of the Resolute in the pursuit of any public object
elements, we consider as no more than a whole- and consequently both makes their chance of
some agitation; and cannot help regarding success greater, and enables them  to make
the contentions in which freemen are engaged much greater efforts in every way, in proporby a conscientious zeal for their opinions, as tion to the extent of their population. No
an invigorating and not ungenerous exercise. slaves could ever have undergone the toils to
What serious breach of the public peace has which the Spartans or the Romans tasked
it occasioned — to what insurrections, or con- themselves for the good or the glory of their
spiracies, or proscriptions has it ever given country;-and no tyrant could ever have exrise?-what mob even, or tumult, has been torted the sums in which the Commons of
excited by the contention of the two great England have voluntarily assessed themselves
parties of the state, since their contention has for the exigencies of the state. These are
been open, and their weapons appointed, and among the positive advantages of freedom;
their career marked out in the free lists of the and, in our opinion, are its chief advantages.
constitution? —Suppress these contentions, in- — But we must not forget, in the fifth and last
deed-forbid these weapons, and shut up place, that there is nothing else but a free
these lists, and you will have conspiracies government by which men can be secured
and insurrections enough.-These are the from those arbitrary invasions of their Persons
short-sighted fears of tyrants.-The dissen- and Properties-those cruel persecutions, opsions of a free people are the preventives premsive imprisonments, and lawless execuand not the indications of radical disorder-  ticns which no formal code can prevent an
and the noises which make the weak-hearted absolut6 monarch from regarding as a part of
tremble, are but the natural murmurs of those his prerogative; and, above all, from those
mighty and mingling currents of public opin- provincial exactions and oppressions, and
ion, which are destined to fertilize and unite those universal Insults, and Contumelies, and
the country, and can never become danger- Indignities, by which the inferior minions of
ous till an attempt is made to obstruct their power spread misery and degradation among
course, or to disturb their level.        the whole mass of every people which has no
Mr. Leckie has favoured his readers with political independence.




RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS.                                 SF?
A Song of Triumph. By W. SOTHEBY, Esq. 8vo. London: 1814.
L'.Acte Constitutionncl, en la Siance du 9 Avril, 1814. 8vo. Londres: 1814.
Of Bonaparte, the Bourbons, and the Necessity of rallying round our legitimate Princes, for the
Happiness of France and of Europe.  By F. A. CHATEAUBRIAND. 8vo. London: 1814.*
IT would be strange indeed, we think, if Imany highand anxious speculations. Thefeelpages dedicated like Gars to topics of present ings, we are sure, are in unison with all that
interest, and the discussions of the passing exists around us; and we reckon therefore on
hour, should be ushered into the world at such more than usual indulgence for the speculaa moment as this, without some stamp of that tions into which they may expand.
common joy and anxious emotion with which    The first and predominant feeling which
the wonderful events of the last three months rises on contemplating the scenes that have
are still filling all the regions of the earth. In just burst on our view. is that of deep-felt
such a situation, it must be difficult for any gratitude and delight, —for the liberation of
one who has the means of being heard, to re- so many oppressed nations,-for the cessation
frain from giving utterance to his sentiments: of bloodshed and fear and misery over the
But to us, whom it has assured, for the first fairest portions of the civilised world,-and
time, of the entire sympathy of all our coun- for the enchanting, though still dim and untrymen, the temptation, we own, is irresisti- certain prospect of long peace and measureless
ble; and the good-natured part of our readers, improvement, which seems at last to be openwe are persuaded, will rather smile at our ing on the suffering kingdoms of Europe. The
simplicity, than fret at our presumption, when very novelty of such a state of things, which
we add, that we have sometimes permitted could be known only by description to the
ourselves to fancy that, if any copy of these greater part of the existing generation-the
our lucubrations should go down to another J suddenness of its arrival, and the contrast
generation, it may be thought curious to trace  which it forms with the anxieties and alarms
in them the first effects of events that are pro- to which it has so immediately succeeded, all
bably destined to fix the fortune of succeed- concur most powerfully to enhance its vast
ing centuries, and to observe the impressions intrinsic attractions.  It has come upon the
which were made on the minds of contempo- world like the balmy air and flushing verdure
raries, by those mighty transactions, which of a late spring, after the dreary chills of a
will appear of yet greater moment in the eyes long and interminable winter; and the reof a distant posterity.  We are still too near freshing sweetness with which it has visited
that great image of Deliverance and Reform  the earth, feels like Elysium  to those who
which the Genius of Europe has just set up have just escaped from the driving tempests
before us, to discern with certainty its just it has banished.
lineaments, or construe the true character of   We have reason to hope, too, that the riches
the Aspect with which it looks onward to fu- of the harvest will correspond with the splenturity! We see enough, however, to fill us dour of this early promise.  All the periods
with innumerable feelings, and the germs of in which human society and human intellect
*hsnwt   tohave been known to make great and memor*This, I am afraid, w(ill now be thought to be too able advances, have  followed  close upon
much of a mere "Song of Triumph;" or, at least, periods of general agitation and disorder.
to be conceived throughout in a far more sanguine Mens mindsappear, must be de
spirit than is consistent either with a wise observa-                      must be  deeply
tion of passing events, or a philosophical estimate and roughly stirred, before they become proof the frailties of human nature: And, having cer- lific of great conceptions, or vigorous resolves;
tainly been written under that prevailing excite- and a vast and alarming fermentation must
ment, of which I chiefly wish to preserve it as a pervade and agitate the mass of society, to
memorial, I have no doubt triat, to some extent, it inform it with that kindly warmth, by which
is so. At the same time it should be recollected, alone the seeds of genius and  mprovement
that it was written immediately after the first res-             genius and improvement
toration of the Bourbons; and before the startling can be expanded.. The fact, at all events, is
drama of the Hundred Days, and its grand catastro- abundantly certain; and may be accounted
phe at Waterloo, had dispelled the first wholesome for, we conceive, without mystery, and withfears of the Allies, or sown the seeds of more bitter out metaphors.
ranklings and resentments in the body of the French
people: and, above all, that it was so written, be- liion-or anything else that gives rise to
fore the many lawless invasions of national inde-ligion-or any thing else that gives rise to
pendence, and broken promises of Sovereigns to general and long-continued contention, natutheir subjects, Which have since revived that dis- rally produces a prevailing disdain of authortrust, which both nations and philosophers were ity, and boldness of thinking in the leaders
then, perhaps, too ready to renounce. And after of the fray,-together with a kindling of the
all, I must say, that an attentive reader may find, imagination and development of intellect in a
even in this strain of good auguries, both such traces  great  multitud e of persons wh  in ordinar
of misgivings, and such iteration of anxious warn- great multitude of persons, who, in ordinary
ings, as to save me from the imputation of having times; would have vegetated stupidly in the
merely predicted a Millennium.               places where fortune had fixed them. Power




78                            GENERAL POLITICS.
and distinction, and all the higher prizes in folly. History, we think, will not class him
the lottery of life, are then brought within the quite so low as the English newspapers of the
reach of a larger proportion of the community; present day. He is a creature to be dreaded
and that vivifying spirit of ambition, which is and condemned, but not, assuredly, to be
the true source of all improvement, instead despised by men of ordinary dimensions. His
of burning at a few detached points on the catastrophe, so far as it is yet visible, seems
summit of society, now pervades every por- unsuitable indeed, and incongruous with the
tion of its frame. Much extravagance, and, in part he has hitherto sustained; but we have
all probability, much guilt and much misery, perceived nothing in it materially to alter the
result) in the first instance, from this sudden estimate which we formed long ago of his
extrication of talent and enterprise, in places character. He still seems to us a man of
where they can as yet have no legitimate consummate conduct, valour, and decision in
issue, or points of application. But the con- war, but without the virtues, or even the
tending elements at last find their spheres, generous or social vices of a soldier of fortune;
and their balance. The disorder ceases; but -of matchless activity indeed, and boundless
the activity remains.  The multitudes that ambition, but entirely without principle, feelhad been raised into intellectual existence by ing, or affection;-suspicious, vindictive, and
dangerous passions and crazy illusions, do not overbearing; —selfish and solitary in all his
all relapse into their original torpor, when pursuits and gratifications;-proud and overtheir passions are allayed and their illusions weening, to the very borders of insanity;dispelled. There is a great permanent addi- and considering at last the laws of honour and
tion to the power and the enterprise of the the principles of morality, equally beneath his
community; and the talent and the activity notice with the interests and feelings of other
which at first convulsed the state by their men.-Despising those who submitted to his
unmeasured and misdirected exertions, ulti- pretensions, and pursuing, with implacable
mately bless and adorn it, under a more en- hatred, all who presumed to resist them, he
lightened and less intemperate guidance. If seems to have gone on in a growing confiwe may estimate the amount of this ultimate dence in his own fortune, and contempt for
good by that of the disorder which preceded mankind, —till a serious check from without
it, we cannot be too sanguine in our calcula- showed him the error of his calculation, and
tions of the happiness that awaits the rising betrayed the fatal insecurity of a career which
generation. The fermentation, it will readily reckoned only on prosperity.
be admitted, has been long and violent enough   Over the downfal of such a man, it is fitting
to extract all the virtue of all the ingredients that the world should rejoice; and his down.
that have been submitted to its action; and fal, and the circumstances with which it has
enough of scum has boiled over, and enough been attended, seem to us to hold out three
of pestilent vapour been exhaled, to afford a several grounds of rejoicing.
reasonable assurance that the residuum will  In the first place, we think it has establishbe both ample and pure.                   ed for ever the impracticability of any scheme
If this delight in the spectacle and the of universal dominion; and proved, that Euprospect of boundless good, be the first feeling rope possesses sufficient means to maintain
that is excited by the scene before us, the and assert the independence of her several,second, we do not hesitate to say, is a stern states, in despite of any power that can be
-and vindictive joy at the downfal of the Tyrant brought against them. It might formerly have
iand the tyranny by whom that good had been been doubted,-and many minds of no abject
-so long intercepted. We feel no compassion cast were depressed with more than doubts,for that man's reverses of fortune, whose on the subject,-whether the undivided sway!heart, in the days of his prosperity, was which Rome exercised of old, by means of,steeled against that, or any other humanising superior skill and discipline, might not be reemotion. He has fallen, substantially, with- vived in modern times by arrangement, aooutthe pity, as he rose without the love, of tivity, and intimidation, - and whether, in
any portion of mankind; and the admiration spite of the boasted intelligence of Europe at
which was excited by his talents and activity the present day, the ready communication.and-success, having no solid stay in the mag- between all its parts, and the supposed weight
nanimity or generosity of his character, has of its public opinion, the sovereign of one or
been turned, perhaps rather too eagerly, into two great kingdoms might not subdue all the
scorn and derision, now that he is deserted rest, by rapidity of movement and decision
by fortune, and appears without extraordinary of conduct, and retain them in subjection by
resources in the day of his calamity. —We do a strict system of disarming and espionagenot think that an ambitious despot and san- by a constant interchange of armies and staguinary conqueror can be too much execrated, tions-and, in short, by a dexterous and alert
or too: little respected by mankind; but the use of those very means, of extensive intellipopular clamour, at this moment, seems to us gence and communication, which their civilto be carried too far, even against this very isation seemed at first to hold out as their
dangerous individual. It is now discovered, surest protection. The experiment, however
it seems, that he has neither genius nor com- has now been tried; and the result is, that
mon sense; and he is accused of cowardice for the nations of Europe can never be brought
not killing himself, by the very persorns who under the rule of one conquering sovereign.
wouktl infallibly have exclaimed against his No individual, it may be fairly presumed, will
suicide, as a clear proof (of weakness and ever try that fatal experiment again, with so




RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS.                               579
many.extraordinary advantages, and chances — and by new aggressions, and the menace
of success, as he in whose hands it has now  of more intolerable evils, drove them into that
finally miscarried. The different states, it is league which rolled back the tide of ruin on
to be hoped, will never again be found so himself, and ultimately hurled him into the
shamefully unprovided for defence-so long insignificance from which he originially sprung.
insensible to their danger —and, let us not   It is for this reason, chiefly, that we join in
scruple at last to speak the truth, so little the feeling, which we think universal in this
worthy of being saved-as most of them were country, of joy and satisfaction at the utter
at the beginnino of that awful period; while destruction of this victim of Ambition,-and
there is still less chance of any military sove- at the failure of those negotiations, which
reign again finding himself invested with the would have left him, though humbled, in
absolute disposal of so vast a population, at possession of a sovereign state, and of great
once habituated to war and victory by the actual power and authority. We say nothing
energies of a popular revolution, and disposed at present of the policy or the necessity, that
to submit to any hardships and privations for may have dictated those propositions; but the
a ruler who would protect them  from  a re- actual result is far more satisfactory, than any
currence of revolutionary horrors. That ruler, condition of their acceptance.  Without this.
however, and that population, reinforced by the lesson to Ambition would have been imimmense drafts from  the countries he had perfect, and the retribution of Eternal Justice
already overrun, has now been fairly beaten apparently incomplete. It was fitting, that
down by the other nations of Europe —at the world should see it again demonstrated,
length cordially united by a sense of their by this great example, that the appetite of
common danger.  Henceforward, therefore, conquest is in its own nature insatiable;they show their strength, and the means and and that a being, once abandoned to that
occasions of bringing it into action; and the bloody career, is fated to pursue it to the end;
very notoriety of that strength, and of the and must persist in the work of desolation
scenes on which it has been proved, will in and murder, till the accumulated wrongs and
all probability prevent the recurrence of any resentments of the harassed world sweep him
necessity for proving it again.             from its face. The knowledge of this may
The second ground of rejoicing in the down- deter some dangerous spirits from entering on
fal of Bonaparte is on account of the impres- a course, which will infallibly bear them  on
sive lesson it has read to Ambition, and the to destruction; —and at all events should instriking illustration it has afforded, of the in- duce the sufferers to cut short the measure
evitable tendency of that passion to bring to of its errors and miseries, by accomplishing
ruin the power and the greatness which it their doom  at the beginning.  Sanguinary
seeks so madly to increase. No human being, conquerors, we do not hesitate to say, should
perhaps, ever stood on so proud a pinnacle of be devoted by a perpetual proscription, in
worldly grandeur, as this insatiable conqueror,  mercy to the rest of the world.
at the beginning of his Russian campaign.-    Our last cause of rejoicing over this grand
He had done more-he had acquired more —  catastrophe, arises from  the discredit, and
and he possessed more, as to actual power, even the derision, which it has so opportunely
influence, and authority, than any individual thrown upon the character of conquerors in
that ever figured on the scene of European general.  The thinking part of mankind did
story. He had visited, with a victorious army, not perhaps need to be disabused upon this
almost every capital of the Continent; and subject; —but no illusion was ever so strong,
dictated the terms of peace to their astonished or so pernicious with the multitude. as that
princes. He had consolidated under his im- which invested heroes of this description with
mediate dominion, a territory and population a sort of supernatural grandeur and dignity,
apparently sufficient to meet the combination and bent the spirits of men before them, as
of all that it did not include; and interwoven beings intrinsically entitled to the homage and
himself with the government of almost all submission of inferior natures.  It is above
that was left. He had cast down and erected all things fortunate, therefore, when this spell
thrones at his pleasure; and surrounded him- can be broken, by merely reversing the opera-elf with tributary kings, and principalities tion by which it had been imposed; when the
of his own creation. He had connected him- idols that success had tricked out in the mock
self by marriage with the proudest of the attributes of divinity, are stripped of their
ancient sovereigns; and was at the head of disguise by the rough hand of misfortune, and
the largest and the finest army that was ever exhibited before the indignant and wondering
assembled to desolate or dispose of the world. eyes of their admirers, in the naked littleness
Had he known where to stop in his aggres- of humbled and helpless men,-depending,
sions upon the peace and independence of for life and subsistence, on the pity of their
mankind, it seems as if this terrific sove- human conquerors,-and spared with safety,
reignty might have been permanently es- in consequence of their insignificance.-Such
tablished in his person. But the demon by an exhibition, we would fain hope, will rescue
whom he was possessed urged him on to his men for ever from that most humiliating devofate. He could not bear that any power should tion, which has hitherto so often tempted the
exist which did not confess its dependence on ambition, and facilitated the progress of conhim. Without a pretext for quarrel, he at- querors.-It is not in our days, at least, that
tacked Russia —insulted Austria-trod con- it will be forgotten, that Bonaparte turnled out
temptuously on the fallen fortunes of Prussia a mere mortal in the end;-and ne'hr in out




580                            GENERAL POLITICS.
days, nor in those of our children, is it at all distinction of having kept alive the sacree
likely, that any other adventurer will arise to flame of liberty and the spirit of national in
efface the impressions connected with that dependence, when the chill of general appre.
recollection, by more splendid achievements, hension, and the rushing whirlwind of con-.than distinguished the greater part of his quest, had apparently extinguished them for
career. Tne kind of shame, too, that is felt ever, in the other nations of the earth. No
by those who have been the victims or the course of prosperity, indeed, and no harvest
instruments of a being so weak and fallible, of ultimate success, can ever extinguish the
will make it difficult for any successor to his regret of all the true friends of our national
ambition, so to overawe the minds of the glory and happiness, for the many preposterworld again; and will consequently diminish ous, and the occasionally disreputable expethe dread, while it exasperates the hatred, ditions, in which English blood was more
with which presumptuous oppression ought than unprofitably wasted, and English charalways to be regarded.                     acter more than imprudently involved; nor
If the downfal of Bonaparte teach this can the delightful assurance of our actual
lesson, and fix this feeling in the minds of deliverance from danger efface the rememmen. we should almost be tempted to say that brance of the tremendous hazard to which we
the miseries he has inflicted are atoned for; were so long exposed by the obstinate misand that his life: on the whole, will have been government of Ireland. These, however, were
useful to mankind. Undoubtedly there is no the sins of the Government.-and do not at
other single source of wretchedness so prolific all detract from the excellent spirit of the
as that strange fascination by which atrocious People, to which, in its main bearings, it was
guilt is converted into an object of admiration, necessary for the government to conform.
and the honours due to the benefactors of the That spirit was always, and we believe unihuman race lavished most profusely on their versally, a spirit of strong attachment to the
destroyers. A sovereign who pursues schemes country, and of stern resolution to do all
of conquest for the gratification of his personal things, and to suffer all things in its cause;ambition, is neither more nor less than a being mingled with more or less confidence, or more
who inflicts violent death upon thousands, or less anxiety, according to the temper or the
and miseries still more agonising on millions, information of individuals, —but sound, steady
of innocent individuals, to relieve his own and erect we believe upon the whole,-and
ennui, and divert the languors of a base and equally determined to risk all for independworthless existence:-and, if it be true that ence, whether it was believed to be in great
the chief excitement to such exploits is found or in little danger.
-in the false Glory with which the madness   Of our own sentiments and professions, and
of mankind has surrounded their successful of the consistency of our avowed principles,
performance, it will not be easy to calculate from the first to the last of this momentous
how much we are indebted to him whose his- period, it would be impertinent to speak at
tory has contributed to dispel it.        large, in discussing so great a theme as the
Next to our delight at the overthrow of honour of our cpmmon country. None of our
Bonaparte, is our exultation at the glory of readers, and none of our censors, can be more
England.-It is a proud and honourable dis- persuaded than we are of the extreme insigtinction to be able to say, in the end of such nificance of such a discussion-and not many
a contest, that we belong to the only nation of them can feel more completely indifferent
that has never been conquered;-to the nation about the aspersions with which we have
that set the first example of successful resist- been distinguished, or more fully convinced
ance to the power that was desolating the of the ultimate justice of public opinion. We
world, —and who always stood erect, though shall make no answer therefore to the sneers
she sometimes stood alone, before it. From  and calumnies of wvhich it has been thought
England alone, that power, to which all the worth while to make us the subject, except
rest had successively bowed, has won no tro- just to say, that if any man can read what we
phies, and extorted no submission; on the  iave written on public affairs, and entertain
contrary, she has been constantly baffled and any serious doubt of our Zeal for the safety,
disgraced whenever she has grappled directly the honour, and the freedom of England, he
with the might and energy of England. Dur- must attach a different meaning to all these
ing the proudest part of her continental career, phrases from that which we have most sinEngland drove her ships from the ocean, and cerely believed to belong to them; and that,
annihilated her colonies and her commerce. though we do not pretend to have either foreThe first French army that capitulated, capit- seen or foretold the happy events that have so
ulated to the English forces in Egypt; and lately astonished the world, we cannot fail to
Lord Wellington is the only commander see in them the most gratifying confirmation
against whom six Marshals of France have of the very doctrines we have been the longes,
successively tried in vain to procure any ad- and the most loudly abused for asserting.
vantage.                                    The last sentiment in which we think all
The efforts of England have not always candid observers of the late great events must
been well directed, —nor her endeavours to cordially agree, is that of admiration and pure
rouse the other nations of Europe very wisely and unmingled approbation of the magnani.
timed: —But she has set a magnificent ex- mity, the prudence, the dignity and forbear.
ample of unconquerable fortitude and unalter- ance of the Allies. There has been some.
able constancy; and she may claim the proud thing in the manner of those extraordinary




RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS.                             Mt~
transactions as valuable as the substance of that the intelligence of its population entitled
what has been achieved,-and. if possible, it to a share in its own government. They
still more meritorious. History records no in- exerted themselves sincerely to mediate bestance of union so faithful and complete-of tween the different parties that might be supcouncils so firm-of gallantry so generous-  posed to exist in the state; and treated each
of moderation so dignified and wise. In read- with a respect that taught its opponents that
ing the addresses of the Allied Sovereigns to they might coalesce without being dishonourthe people of Europe and of France; and, ed. In this way the seeds of civil discord
above all, in tracing every step of their de- which such a crisis could scarcely have failed
meanour after they got possession of the me- to quicken, have, we trust, been almost entropolis, we seem to be transported from the tirely destroyed; and if France escapes the
vulgar and disgusting realities of actual story, visitation of internal dissension. it will be
to the beautiful' imaginations and exalted fic- chiefly owing to the considerate and magnanitions of poetry and romance. The proclama- mous prudence of those very persons to whom
tion of the Emperor Alexander to the military Europe has been indebted for her deliverance.
men who might be in Paris on his arrival -Ihis  In this high and unqualified praise, it is a
address to the Senate-the terms in which he singular satisfaction to us to be able to say,
has always spoken of his fallen adversary, that our own Government seems fully entitled
are all conceived in the very highest strain of to participate. In the whole of those most imnobleness and wisdom. They have all the portant proceedings, the Ministry of England
spirit, the courtesy, the generosity, of the age appears to have conducted itself with wisdom,
of chivalry; and all the liberality and mild- moderation. and propriety. In spite of the
ness of that of philosophy. The disciple of vehement clamours of many in their own
Fenelon could not have conducted himself party, and the repugnance which was said to
with more perfect amiableness and grandeur; exist in higher quarters to any negotiation with
and the fabulous hero of the loftiest and most Bonaparte, they are understood to have adphilanthropic of moralists, has been equalled, hered with laudable firmness to the clear poif not outdone, by a Russian monarch, in the licy of not disjoining their country from that
first flush and tumult of victory. The sub- great confederacy, through which alone, either
limity of the scene indeed, and the merit of peace or victory, was rationally to be expect
the actors, will not be fairly appreciated, if ed:-and, going heartily along with their
we do not recollect that they were arbitrary allies both in their unrivalled efforts and in
sovereigns, who had been trained rather to their heroic forbearance, they too refrained
consult their own feelings than the rights of from recognising the ancient family, till they
mankind-who had been disturbed on their were invited to return by the spontaneous
hereditary thrones by the wanton aggressions voice of their own nation; and thus gave them
of the man who now lay at their mercy-and  the glory of being recalled by the appearance
had seen their territories wasted, their people at last of affection, instead of being replaced
butchered, and their capitals pillaged, by him  by force; while the nation, which force would
they had at last chased to his den, and upon either have divided, or disgusted entire, did
whose capital, and whose people, they might all that was wanted, as the free act of their
now repay the insults that had been offered own patriotism and wisdom. Considering the
to theirs. They judged more magnanimously. temper that had long been fostered, arid the
however; and they judged more wisely —for tone that had been maintained among their
their own glory, for the objects they had in warmest supporters at home, we think this
view, and for the general interests of humani- conduct of the ministry entitled to the highest
ty. By their generous forbearance, and sin- credit: and we give it our praise now, with
gular moderation, they not only put their ad- the same freedom and sincerity with which
versary in the wrong in the eyes of all Europe, we pledge ourselves to bestow our censure,
but they made him appear little and ferocious wheiever they do any thing that seems to call
in comparison; and, while overbearing all for that less grateful exercise of our duty.
opposition by superior force, and heroic resolution, they paid due honour to the valour by   Having now indulged ourselves, by expresswhich they had been resisted, and gave no ing a few of the sentiments that are irresistibly
avoidable offence to that national pride which suggested by the events that lie before us,
might have presented the greatest of all ob- we turn to our more laborious and appropriate
stacles to their success. From the beginning vocation of speculating on the nature and conto the end of their hostile operations, they sequences of those events. Is the restoration
avoided naming the name of the ancient of the Bourbons the best possible issue of the
family; and not in words merely, but in the long struggle that has preceded? Will it lead
whole strain and tenor of their conduct, re- to the establishment of a free government in
spected the inherent right of the nation to France? Will it be favourable to the general
choose its own government, and stipulated for interests of liberty in England and the rest oi
nothing but what was indispensable for the the world? These are great and momentous
safety of its neighbours. Born, as they were, questions,-which we are far from presuming
to unlimited thrones, and accustomed in their to think we can answer explicitly, without the
own persons to the exercise of power that ad- assistance of that great expositor-time. Yet
mitted but little control, they did not scruple we should think the man unworthy of the
to declare publicly, that France, at least, was great felicity of having lived to the present
entitled to a larger measure of freedom; and day, who could help asking them of. in:self;




582                            GENERAL POLITICS.
and we seem to stand in the particular pre- new adventurer to preside over an entire new
dicamen' of being obliged to try at least for constitution, republican or monarchical, as
an answer.                                might be most agreeable to his supporters.
The first, we think, is the easiest; and we   The first would have been fraught with
scarcely scruple to answer it at once in the measureless evils to France, and dangers to
affirmative. We know, indeed, that there are all her neighbours — but, fortunately, though
many who think, that a permanent change of it was tried, it was in its own nature imprac.
dynastymight have afforded a better guarantee ticable: and Napoleon knew this well enough,
against the return of those ancient abuses when he rejected the propositions made to him
which first gave rise to therevolution, and may at Chatillon. He knew well enough what
again produce all its disasters; and that France, stuff his Parisians and his Senators were made
reduced within moderate limits, would, under of; and what were the only terms upon which
such a dynasty, both have served better as a the nation would submit to his dominion. He
permanent warning to other states of the dan- knew that he had no real hold of the Affecger of such abuses, and been less likely to tions of the people; and ruled but in their
unite itself with any of the old corrupt govern- fears and their Vanity-that he held his throne,
ments' in schemes against the internal liberty in short, only because he had identified his
or national independence of the great European own greatness with the Glory of France, and
communities. And we are far from under- surrounded himself with a vast army, drawn
rating the value of these suggestions. But from all the nations of Europe, and so posted
there are considerations of more urgent and and divided as to be secured against any
immediate importance, that seem to leave no general spirit of revolt. The moment this
room for hesitation in the present position of army was ruined therefore, and he came back
affairs.                                  a beaten and humbled sovereign, he felt that
In the first place, the restoration of the his sovereignty was at an end. To rule at
Bourbons seems the natural and only certain all, it was necessary that he should rule with
end of that series of revolutionary movements, glory, and with full possession of the means
and that long and disastrous experiment which of intimidation. As soon as these left him,
has so awfully overshadowed the freedom  his throne must have tottered to its fall.
and happiness of the world.  It naturally Royalist factions and Republican factions
figures as the final completion of a cycle of would have arisen in every part of the naconvulsions and miseries; and presents itself tion-discontent and insurrection would have
to the imagination as the point at which the multiplied in the capital, and in the protempest-shaken vessel of the state again vinces-and if not cut off by the arm  of
reaches the haven of tranquillity from the some new competitor, he must soon have
stormy ocean of revolution. Nor is it merely been overwhelmed in the tempest of civil
to the imagination, or through the mediation commotion.
of such figures, that this truth presents itself.   The second plan would have been less danTo the coldest reason it is manifest, that by gerous to other states, but still more impractithe restoration of the old line, the whole tre- cable with a view to France itself.  The
mendous evils of a disputed title to the crown nerveless arm of an infant could never have
are at once obviated: For when the dynasty wielded the iron sceptre of Napoleon,-and
of Napoleon has once lost possession, it has his weakness, and the utter want of native
lost all upon which its pretensions could ever power or influence in the members of his
have been founded, and may fairly be con- family, would have invited all sorts of pretensidered as annihilated and extinguished for sions, and called forth to open day all the wild
ever. The novelty of a government is in all and terrific factions which the terror of his
cases a prodigious inconvenience-but if it be father's power had chased for a season to their
substantially unpopular, and the remnants of dens of darkness. Jealousy of the influence
an old government at hand, its insecurity be- of Austria, too, would have facilitated the decomes not only obvious but alarming: Since position of the baby despot; —and even if his
nothing but the combination of great severity state could have been upheld, it is plain that
and great success can give it even the appear- it could have been only by the faithful energy
ance of stability. Now, the government of of his predecessor's ministers of oppression, —
Napoleon was not only new and oppressive, and that the dynasty of Napoleon could only
and consequently insecure, but it was abso- have maintained itself by the arts and the
lutely dissolved and at an end, before the pe- crimes of its founder.
riod had arrived at which alone the restoration   The third expedient must plainly have been
of the Bourbons could be made a subject of the most inexpedient and unmerciful of all;
deliberation.                             since, after the experience of the last twenty
The chains of the Continent, in fact, were years, we may venture to say with confidence,
broken at Leipsic; and the Despotic sceptre that it could only have led, through a repetiof the great nation cast down to the earth, as tion of those monstrous disorders over which
soon as the allies set foot as conquerors on its reason has blushed and humanity sickened so
ancient territory. If the Bourbons were not long, to the dead repose of another military
then to be restored, there were only three despotism.
other ways of settling the government.-To    The restoration of the Bourbons, therefore,
leave Bonaparte at the head of a limited and we conceive, was an act, not merely of wisreduced monarchy-to vest the sovereignty dom, but of necessity,-or of that strong and
n his infant son-or to call or permit some obvious expediency, with a view either to




RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS.
meace or security, which in politics amounts foster associations favourable to royalty, or ti
to necessity. It is a separate, however, or at propagate kindly conceptions of the connet
least an ulterior question, whether this res- tion of subject and king; —forgetting, above
toration is likely to give a Free Government all, that along with her ancient monarchy, a
to France, or to bring it back to the condition new legislative body is associated in the gov
of its old arbitrary monarchy T a question cer- ernment of France, —that a constitution has
tainly of great interest and curiosity,-and been actually adopted, by which the powers
upon which it does not appear to us that the of those monarchs may be effectually controlpoliticians of this country are by any means led; and that the illustrious person who has
agreed.                                   ascended the throne, has already bound himThere are many, we think, who cannot be self to govern according to that constitution,
brought to understand that the restoration of and to assume no power with which it does
the ancient line can mean any thing else but not expressly invest him.
the restoration of the ancient constitution of   If Louis XVIII., then, trained in the school
the monarchy,-who take it for granted, that of misfortune, and seeing and feeling all the
they must return to the substantial exercise permanent changes which these twenty-five
of all their former functions, and conceive, eventful years have wrought in the condition
that all restraints upon the sovereign authori- of his people; —if this monarch, mild and unty, and all stipulations in favour of public ambitious as he is understood to be in his
liberty, must be looked upon with contempt character, is but faithful to his oath, grateful
and aversion, and be speedily swept away, as to his deliverers, and observant of the counvestiges of that tremendous revolution, the sels of his most prudent and magnanimous
whole brood and progeny of which must be Allies, he will feel, that he is not the lawful
held in abhorrence at the Court of the new  inheritor of the powers that belonged to his
Monarch: —And truly, when we remember predecessor; that his crown is not the crown
what Mr. Fox has said, with so much solem- of Louis XVI.; and that to assert his privinity, upon this subject, and call to mind the leges, would be to provoke his fate. By this
occasion, with reference to which he has de- time, he probably knows enough of the nature
dared, that "a Restoration is, for the most part, of his countrymen, perhaps we should say of
the most pernicious of all Revolutions," —it is mankind in general, not to rely too much on
not easy to divest ourselves of apprehensions, those warm expressions of love and loyalty
that such may in some degree be the conse- with which his accession has been hailed, and
ta.ence of the events over which we are re- which would probably have been lavished
joicing. Yet the circumstances of the present with equal profusion on his antagonist, if viccase, we will confess, do not seem to us to tory had again attended his arms, in this last
warrant such apprehensions in their full ex- and decisive contest. It is not improbable
tent; and our augury, upon the whole, is fa- that he may be more acceptable to the body
vourable upon this branch of the question also. of the nation, than the despot he has supplantThey who think differently, and who hope, ed; and that some recollections or traditions
or fear, that things are to go back exactly to of a more generous loyalty than the sullen
the state in which they were in 1788; and nature of that ungracious ruler either invited
that all the sufferings, and all the sacrifices, or admitted, have mingled themselves with
of the intermediate period, are to be in vain, the hopes of peace and of liberty, which must
look only, as it appears to us, to the naked be the chief solid ingredients in his welcome;
fact, that the old line of kings is restored, and and acting upon the constitutional vivacity of
the ancient nobility re-established in their the people, and the servility of mobs, always
honours. They consider the case, as it would ready to lackey the heels of the successful
have been, if this restoration had been effect- have taken the form of ardent affection, and
ed by the triumphant return of the emigrants the most sincere devotedness and attachment.
from Coblentz in 1792-by the success of the But we think it is very apparent, that there is
Royalist arms in La Vendee-or by the gene- no great love or spontaneous zeal for the Bourral prevalence of a Royalist party, spontane- bons in the body of the French nation; that
ously regenerated over the kingdom: —For- the joy so tardily manifested for their return,
getting that the ancient family has only been is mainly grounded upon the hope of conserecalled in a crisis brought on by foreign suc- quential benefits to themselves; and, at all
cesses; when the actual government was events, that there is no personal attachment,
virtually dissolved, and no alternative left to which will lead them to submit to any thing
the nation, but those which we have just enu- that may be supposed to be encroaching, or
merated; — forgetting that it is not restored felt to be oppressive. It will probably require
unconditionally, and as a matter of right, but great temper and great management in the
rather called anew to the throne, upon terms new sovereigns to exercise, without offence,
and stipulations, propounded in the name of a the powers with which they are legitimately
nation, free to receive or to reject it;-forget- invested; but their danger will be great inting that an interval of twenty-five long years deed, if they suddenly attempt to go beyond,
has separated the subjects from the Sovereign; them. With temper and circumspection, they
and broken all those ties of habitual loyalty, may in time establish the solid foundations of
by which a people is most effectually bound a splendid, though limited, throne; if they
to an hereditary monarch.; and that those aspire again to be absolute, the probability is
years, filled with ideas t f democratic license, that they will soon cease to reign
or despotic oppression; cannot have tended to   The restoration of the old Nobility seems,




584                            GENERAL POLITICS
at first sight, a more hazardous operation than yet more like the constitution adopted by
than that of the ancient monarchs; —but the Bonaparte on his accession to the sovereign
danger, there also, is more apparent than real. authority. He too had a Senate and a Legisla.
The various inclemencies of a twenty-five tive Body,-and trial by jury,-and universa,
years' exile have sadly thinned the ranks of eligibility,-and what was pretended to be
those rash and sanguine spirits who assem- liberty of printing. The freedom of the peobled at Coblentz in 1792, and may be pre- ple, in short, was as well guarded, in most
sumed to have tamed the pride and lowered respects, by the words and the forms of that
the pretensions of the few that remain. A  constitution, as they are by those of this which
great multitude of families have become ex- is now under consideration; and yet those
tinct, —a still greater number had reconciled words and forms were found to be no obstacle
themselves to the Imperial Government,-and at all to the practical exercise and systematic
the small remnant that have continued faith- establishment of the most efficient despotism
ful to the fortunes of their Royal Master, will that Europe has ever witnessed.
probably be satisfied with the conditions of   What then shall we say? Since the same
his return. Thus dwindled in number, —-de- institutions, and the same sort of balance of
cayed in fortune,-and divided by diversities power, give at one time too much weight to
of conduct that will not be speedily forgotten, the Crown, and at another too much indulwe do not think that there is any great hazard gence to popular feeling, shall we conclude
of their attempting either to assert those priv- that all sorts of institutions and balances are
ileges as a body, or to assume that tone, by indifferent or nugatory? or only, that their
which they formerly revolted the inferior efficacy depends greatly on the circumstances
classes of the state, and would now be con- to which they are applied, and on the actual
sidered as invading the just rights and con- balance and relation in which the different
stitutional dignity of the other citizens.  orders of the state previously stood to each
We do not see any thing, therefore, in the other? The last, we think, is the only sane
restoration itself, either of the Prince or of his conclusion; and it is by attending to the connobles, that seems to us very dangerous to the ditions which it involves, that we shall best
freedom of the people, or very likely to per- be enabled to conjecture, whether an experivert those constitutional provisions by which ment, that has twice failed already in so sigit is understood that their freedom is to be nal a manner, is now likely to be attended
secured. Yet we did not need the example with success.
that France herself has so often afforded, to   When a limited monarchy was proposed for
make us distrustful of constitutions on paper; France in 1790, the whole body of the natiop
-and are not only far from feeling assured of had just emancipated itself by force from a
the practical benefits that are to result from  state of political vassalage, and had begun to
this new experiment, but are perfectly con- feel the delight and intoxication of that convinced that all the benefit that does result, sciousness of power, which always tempts at
must be ascribed, not to the wisdom  of the first to so many experiments on its reality and
actual institutions, but to the continued opera- extent. New to the exercise of this power
tion of the extraordinary circumstances, by and jealous of its security so long as any of
which these institutions have been suggested,  those institutions remained which. had so long
and by the permanent pressure of which alone repressed or withheld it, they first improvitheir operation can yet be secured. The bases dently subverted all that was left of their anof the new constitution sound well certainly; cient establishrnenits; and then, from the same
and may be advantageously contrasted with impetuosity of inexperience, they split into
the famous declaration of the rights of man, factions, that began with abuse, and ended in
which initiated the labours of the Constituent bloodshed; and, setting out with an extreme
Assembly. But the truth is, that the bases zeal for reason and humanity, plunged themof most paper constitutions sound well; and selves very speedily in the very abyss of
that principles not much less wise and liberal atrocity and folly. In such a violent state of
than those which we now hope to see reduced the public mind, no institutions had any chance
into practice, have been laid down in most of of being permanent. The root of the evil was
"he constitutions which have proved utterly in the suddenness of the extrication of such a
ineffectual within the last twenty-five years,. volume of political energy, —or rather, perhaps,
to repress popular disorder or despotic usur- in the arrangements by which it had been so
pation in this very country. The constitution long, pent up and compressed. The only true
now adopted by Louis XVIII. is not very un- policy would have been for those among the
like that which was imposed on his unfortu- ancient leaders,'whose interest or judgment
nate predecessor, in the Champs (le Mars in enabled them to see the hazards upon which
1790; and it certainly leaves less power to the new-sprung enthusiasts were rushing-to
the crown than was conceded by that first ar- have thrown themselves into their ranks; —to
rangement. Yet the power vested in Louis have united cordially with those who were
XVI. was found quite inade(quate to protect least insane orintemperate; and, bygoingalong
the regal office against the encroachments of with them at all hazards, to have retarded the
an insane democracy; and the throne was impetuosity of their movements, and watched
overthrown by the sudden irruption of the the first opportunity to bring them back to soopular part of the government. ~ On the other briety and reason. Instead of this, they aban.
-and, It is still more remarkable that the con- doned them, with demonstrations of contempt
Ntitution now about to be put on its trial, is and hostility, to the career upon wvhich they




RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS.                               b8.
had entered. They emigrated from the ter- a free government, is no considerable pre.
ritory-and thus threw the mass of the popu- sumption against the fitness of such institu.
lation at once into the hands of the irncendia- tions to maintain the principles of freedom
ries of the capital. Twenty-five years have under different circumstances; nor can the
nearly elapsed since the period of that terrible fact be justly regarded as a new example of
explosion. A great part of its force has been their inefficiency for that purpose. In this
wasted and finally dissipated in that long in- instance they were never intended to minister
terval; and though its natural flow has been to the interests of liberty; nor instituted with
again repressed in the latter part 6f it, there is any serious expectation that they would have
no hazard of such another eruption, now that that effect. Here, therefore, there was truly
those obstructions are again thrown off. That no failure, and no disappointment.  They acwas produced by the accumulation of all the tually answered all the ends of their establish.
energy, intelligence, and discontent, that had  ment; by facilitating the execution of the Imbeen generated among a people deprived of perial will, and disguising, to those who chose
political rights, during a full century of peace- to look no farther, the naked oppression of the
ful pursuits and growing intelligence, without government. It does not seem to us, therefore,
any experience or warning of the perils of its that this instance more than the other, should
sudden expansion.  This can be but the col- materially discourage our expectations of now
lection of a few years of a very different de- seeing something like a system  of regulated
scription, and with all the dreadful conse- freedomin that country. The people of France
quences of its untempered and undirected in- have lived long enough under the capricious
dulgence still glaring in view. We do not atrocities of a crazy democracy, to be aware
think, therefore, that the attempt to establish of the dangers of that form of government,a limited monarchy is now in very great dan- to feel the necessity of contriving some retardger of miscarrying in the same way as in 1790; ing machinery to break the impulse of the
and conceive, that the conduits of an ordinary general will, and providing some apparatus
representative assembly, if instantly prepared for purifying, concentrating, and cooling the
and diligently watched, may now be quite first fiery runnings of popular spirit and enthusufficient to carry off and direct all the popu- siasm; while they have also felt enough of
lar energy that is generated in the nation-  the oppressions and miseries of arbitrary powthough the quantity was then so great as to er, to instruct them in the value of some regutear all the machinery to pieces. and blow the lar and efficient control. In such a situation,
ancient monarchy to the clouds, with the frag- therefore, when a scheme of government that
ments of the new constitution.              has been found to answer both these purposes
With regard to the late experiment under in other countries, is offered by the nation as
Bonaparte, it is almost enough to observe, that the accompaniment and condition of the monit seems to us to have been from the begin- archy, and is freely accepted by the Sovereign
ning a. mere piece of mockery and delusion. on his accession, there seems to be a reasonThe government was substantially despotic able hope that the issue will at length be forand military, or, at all events, a government tunate;-and that a free and stable constituof undisguised force, ever since the time of tion may succeed to the calamitous experiments
the triumvirs,-perhaps we might say, since which have been suggested by the imperfecthat of Robespierre; and when Bonaparte as- tions of that which was originally established.
sumed the supreme power, the nation wil-   All this, however, we readily admit, is but
lingly gave up its liberty, for the chance of problematical; and affords ground for nothing
tranquillity and protection. Wearied out with more than expectation and conjecture. There
the perpetual succession of sanguinary fac- are grounds certainly for doubting, whether
tions, each establishing itself by bloody pro- the French are even yet capable of a -_:gulascriptions, deportations, and confiscations, it ted freedom;-and for believing, at all events,
gladly threw itself into the arms of a ruler that they will for a good while be but awk.
who seemed sufficiently strong to keep all ward in discharging the ordinary offices of
lesser tyrants in subjection; and, despairing citizens of a limited monarchy. They have
of freedom, was thankful for an interval of probably learned, by this time, that for a na.
repose. In such a situation. the constitution  tion to be free, something more is necessary
was dictated by the master of the state for than that it should will it. To be practically
his own glory and convenience,-not imposed and tranquilly free, a great deal more is necesupon him by the nation for his direction and sary; and though we do not ascribe much to
control; and, with whatever names or pre- positive institutions, we ascribe almost every
tences of liberty and popular prerogative the thing to temper and habit.-A genuine system
members of it might be adorned, it was suffi- of national representation, for example, can
cientiy known to all parties that it was intend- neither be devised, nor carried into operation
ed substantiallyas an instrument of Command, in a day. The practical benefits of such a
— that the only effective power that was meant system depend in a great measure upon the
to be exercised or recognised in the govern- internal arrangements of the society in which
ment, was the power of the Emperor, abetted it exists, by means of which the sentiments
oy his Army; and that all the other function- and opinions of the people may be peacefully
aries were in reality to be dependent upon and safely transmitted from their first small..aim. That the Senate and Legislative Body, and elementary gatherings, to the great public
therefore, did not convert the military despot- depositories of national energy and wisdom.
ism upon wLch they were thus engrafted into The structure, which answers those purposes,




186                           GENERAL POLITICS.
however, is in all cases more the work of time the command of the legislative body and the
than of contrivance; and can never be im- capital;-and then, unless the Prince play his
pressed at once upon a society, which is aim- part with singular skill, as well as temper,
tng for the first time at these objects.-With- there will be imminent hazard of a revoluout some such previous and internal arrange- tion,-not less disastrous perhaps than thai
ment, however —and without the familiar which has just been completed.
existence of a long gradation of virtual and   Of these two catastrophes, the first, which
unelected representatives, no pure or fair would be the least lamentable or hopeless,
representation can ever be obtained. Instead seems, in the present temper of the times, tc
of the cream of the society, we shall have the be rather the most likely to happen — and,
froth only in the legislature-or, it may be, even though it should occur, the government
the scum, and the fiery spirit, instead of the would most probably be considerably more
rich extract of all its strength and its virtues. advanced toward freedom than it has ever yet
But even independent of the common hazards been in that country-and the organisation
and disadvantages of novelty, there are strong woul  remain entire, into which the breath
grounds of apprehension in the character and of liberty might be breathed, as soon as the
habits of the French nation. The very vi- growing spirit of patriotism and intelligence
vacity of that accomplished people, and the had again removed the shackles of authority.
raised imagination which they are too apt to Against the second and more dreadful catas
carry with them into projects of every descrip- trophe, and in some considerable degree
tion, are all against them in those political against both, there seems to exist a reasonadventures. They are too impatient, we fear able security in the small numbers and general
-too ambitious of perfection-too studious weakness of that part of the ol(l aristocracy
of effect, to be satisfied with the attainable which has survived to reclaim its privileges.
excellence or vulgar comforts of an English One of the bases of the new constitution, and
constitution.  If it captivate them  in the perhaps the most important of them all, is,
theory, it will be sure to disappoint them in that every subject of the kingdom  shall be
the working: — From  endeavouring univer- equally capable of all honours or employsally, each in his own department, to top their ments. Had the Sovereign,. however, who is
parts, they will be very apt to go beyond the fountain of honour and the giver of emthem; —and will run the risk, not only of en- ployment, returned with that great train of
croaching upon each other, but, generally, of nobility which waited in the court of his premissing the substantial advantages of the plan, decessor, this vital regulation. we fear, might
through disdain of that sobriety of effort, and have proved a mere dead letter; and the
calm mediocrity of principle, to which alone same unjust monopoly of power and distincit is adapted.                            tion that originally overthrew  the throne,
The project of giving them a free constitu- might again have sapped its foundations.tion, therefore, may certainly miscarry,-and As things now are, however, there are far too
it may miscarry in two ways. If the Court few of that order to sustain such a monopoly;
can effectually attach to itself the Marshals and the prince must of necessity employ suband Military Senators of Bonaparte, in addi- jects of all ranks and degrees; in situations of
tion to the old Nobility;-and if; through their the greatest dignity and importance. A real
means, the vanity and ambition of the turbu- equality of rights will thus be practically relent and aspiring spirits of the nation can be cognised; and a fair and intelligent distributurned either towards military advancement. tion of power and consideration will go far to
or to offices and distinction about the Court, satisfy the wishes of every party in the state,
the legislative bodies may be gradually made or at least to disarm those who would foment
subservient in most things to the will of the discontents and disaffection, of their most
Government; —and by skilful management, plausible topics and pretexts.
may be rendered almost as tractable and in-   On the whole, then, we think France has
significant, as they have actually been in the now a tolerable prospect of obtaining a free
previous stages of their existence. On the government-and, without extraordinary misother hand, if the discordant materials, out management, is almost sure of many great
of which the higher branch of the legislature improvements on her ancient system. Her
is to be composed, should ultimately arrange great security and panacea must be a spirit of
it into two hostile parties,-of the old Noblesse general mildness, and mutual indulgence and
on the one hand, and the active individuals toleration.  All parties have something to
who have fought their way to distinction forgive, and something to be forgiven; and
through scenes of democratic and imperial there is much in the history of the last
tyranny, on the other, it is greatly to be feared. twenty-five years, which it would be for the
that the body of the nation will soon be divi- general interest, and the general credit of
(led into the same factions; and that while the country, to consign to oblivion. The scene
the Court throws all its influence into the has opened, we think, under the happiest
scale of the former, the latter will in time auguries in this respect. The manner of the
unite the far more formidable weight of the abdication, and the manner of the restoration
military body-the old republicans, and all are ominous, we think, of forbearance and
who are either discontented at their lot, or conciliation in all the quarters from  which
impatient of peaceful times. By their assist- intractable feelings were most to be appre
ance and that of the national vehemence hended; and the commanding example of the
and fove of change, it will most probably get Emperor Alexander, will go further to diffuill




RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS..587
and colaIis  this spirit, than the professions that these abuses shall be abolished. They
or exhortations of any of the parties more were expelled, in short, because they were
immediately concerned.  The blood of the Arbitrary monarchs; and they are only re.
Bourbons too, we believe to be mild and tem- stored, upon paction and security that they
perate; and the adversity by which their shall be arbitrary no longer.  This is the true
illustrious Chief has so long been tried, we summary of the great transaction that has
are persuaded, has not altered its sweetness. just been completed; and the correct result
He is more anxious, we make no doubt, to of the principles that regulated its begin
relieve the sufferings, than-to punish the of- ning and its ending. The intermediate pro.
fences, of any part of his subjects-and re- ceedings, too, bear the very same characturns, we trust, to the impoverished cities and ter. After the abolition of the old royalty,
wasted population of his country, with feel- the nation fell no doubt into great disorders
ings, not of vengeance, but of pity. If to the and disasters,-not, however, for want of the
philanthropy which belongs to his race, he old abuses,-or even of the old line of soveouild but join the firmness and activity in reignis,-but in consequence of new abuses,
which they have been supposed to be want- crimes, and usurpations.  These also they
ing, he might be the most glorious king of the strove to rectify and repress as they best
happiest people that ever escaped from ty- could, by expelling or cutting off the delinranny; and, we fondly hope that fortune and quents, and making provision against the reprudence will combine to render the era of currence of this new form of tyranny — at
his accession for ever celebrated in the grate- last, they fell under the arbitrary rule of a
ful memory of his people. In the mean time, great military commander, and for some time
his most dangerous enemies are the Royalists; rejoiced in a subjection which insured their
and the only deadly error he can commit, is to tranquillity. By and by, however, the evils
rely on his own popularity or personal au- of this tyranny were found far to outweigh its
thority.                                   advantages; and when the destruction of his
If we are at all right in this prognostication, military force gave them an opportunity of
there should be little doubt on the only re- expressing their sentiments, the nation rose
maining subject of discussion. It must be against him  as one man, and expelled him
favourable to the general interests of free- also, for his tyranny, from that throne, fiom
dom, that a free government is established in which, for a much smaller degree of the same
France; and the principles of liberty, both fault, they had formerly expelled the Bourhere and elsewhere, must be strengthened by bons.-Awaking then to the advantages of an
this large accession to her domains. There undisputed title to the crown, and recovered
are persons among us, however, who think from the intoxication of their first burst into
otherwise,-or profess at least to see, in the political independence, they ask the ancient
great drama which has just been completed, line of their kings, whether they will renounce
no other moral than  this —that rebellion the arbitrary powers which had been claimed
against a lawful sovereign, is uniformly fol- by their predecessors, and submit to a conlowed with great disasters, and ends in the stitutional control from the representatives of
complete demolition and exposure of the in- the people? and upon their solemn consent
surgents, and the triumphal restoration of the and cordial acquiescence in those conditions,
rightful Prince. These reasoners find it con, they recal them to the throne, and enrol themvenient to take a very compendious and sum- selves as their free and loyal subjects.
mary view indeed of the great transactions of   The lesson, then, which is taught by the
which they thus extract the essence  and whole history is, that oppressive governments
Positively refuse to look at any other points in must also be insecure; and that, after nations
the eventful history before them, but that the have attained to a certain measure of intelline of the Bourbons was expelled, and that ligence, the liberty of the people is necessary
great atrocities and great miseries ensued-  to the stability of the throne. We may disthat the nation then fell under a cruel despo- pute for ever about the immediate or accitism, and that all things are set to rights again dental causes of the French revolution; but
by the restoration of the Bourbons! The com- no man of reflection can now doubt, that its
fortable conclusion which they draw, or wish true and efficient cause, was the undue limiat least to be drawn, from these premises, is, tation of the rights and privileges of the great
that if the lesson have its proper effect, this body of the people, after their wealth and
restoration will make every king on the Con- intelligence had virtually entitled them  to
tinent more absolute than ever; and confirm  greater consequence.  Embarrassments in
every old government in an attachment to its finance, or blunders, or ambition in particular
most inveterate abuses.                    individuals, may have determined the time
It is not worth while, perhaps, to combat and the manner of the explosion; but it was
hese extravagancies by reasoning; —Yet, in the system which withheld all honours and
their spirit, they come so near certain opinions distinctions from the mass of the people, after
that seem to have obtained currency in this nature had made them capable of them, which
country, that it is necessary to say a word or laid the train. and filled the mine that prowo with regard to them. We shall merely duced it.  Had the government of France
)bserve, therefore, that the Bourbons were been free in 1788, the throne of its monarch
expelled, on account of great faults and abuses might have bid a proud defiance to deficits
n the old system of the government; and that in the treasury, or disorderly ambition in a
hey have only been restored apon condition thousand Mirabeaus.  Had the people en.




588                            GENERAL POLITICS.
jotyed their due weight in the administra- responsible for the actr3 of passion and debase.
tion of the government, and their due share ment to which they naturally lead. If the
in the distribution of its patronage, there natural course of a stream be obstructed, the
would have been no democratic insurrection, pent up waters will, to a certainty, sooner or
and no materials indeed for such a catastrophe later bear down the bulwarks by which they
as ensued. That movement, like all great are confined.  The devastation which may
national movements, was produced by a sense ensue, however, is not to be ascribed to the
of injustice and oppression; and though its weakness of those bulwarks, but to the fundaimmediate consequences were far more dis- mental folly of their erection. The stronger
astrous than the evils by which it had been they had been made, the more dreadful, and
provoked, it should never be forgotten, that not the less certain, would have been the
those evils were the necessary and lamented ultimate eruption; and the only practical lescauses of the whole. The same principle, son to be learned from the catastrophe is, that
indeed, of the necessary connection of oppres- the great agents and elementary energies of
sion and insecurity, may be traced through nature are never dangerous but when they
all the horrors of the revolutionary period. are repressed; and that the only way to guide
Whaf, after all, was it but their tyranny that and disarm them, is to provide a safe and
supplanted Marat and Robespierre, and over- ample channel for their natural operation.
threw the tremendous power of the wretches The laws of the physical world, however, are
for whom they made way? Or, to come to its not more absolute than those of the morallast and most conspicuous application, does nor is the principle of the rebound of elastic
any one imagine, that if Bonaparte had been bodies more strictly demonstrated than the
a just, mild, and equitable sovereign, under reaction of rebellion and tyranny.
whom the people enjoyed equal rights and   If there ever was a time, however, when it
impartial protection, he would ever have been might be permitted to doubt of this principle,
hurled from his throne, or the Bourbons in- it certainly is not the time when the tyranny
vited to replace him 1 He, too, fell ultimately of Napoleon has just overthrown the mightiest
a victim to his tyranny:-and his fall, and empire that pride and ambition ever erected
their restoration on the terms that have been on the ruins of justice and freedom. Prostated. concur to show, that there is but one tected as he was by the vast military syscondition by which, in an enlightened age, tem he had drawn up before him, and still
the loyalty of nations can be secured-the more, perhaps, by the dread of that chaotic
condition of their being treated with kindness; and devouring gulf of Revolution which still
and but one bulwark by which thrones can yawned behind him, and threatened to swal.
now be protected-the attachment and con- low up all who might drive him from his
scions interest of a free and intelligent people. place, he was yet unable to maintain a doThis is the lesson which the French revo- minion which stood openly arrayed against
lution reads aloud to mankind; and which, in the rights and liberties of mankind. But if
its origin, in its progress, and in its termina- tyranily and oppression, and the abuse of imtion, it tends equally to impress. It shows perial power have cast down the throne of
also, no doubt, the dangers of popular insur- Bonaparte. guarded as it was with force and
rection, and the dreadful excesses into which terror, and all that art could devise to embara people will be hurried, who rush at once rass, or glory furnish to dazzle and over-awe.
from a condition of servitude to one of un- what tyrannical throne can be expected to
bounded licentiousness.  But the state of stand hereafter? or what contrivances can seservitude leads necessarily to resistance and cure an oppressive sovereign from the veninsurrection, when the measure of wrong and geance of an insurgent people? Looking only
of intelligence is full; and though the history to the extent of his resources, and the skill
before us holds out most awful warnings as and vigour of his arrangements, no sovereign
to the reluctance and the precautions with on the Continent seemed half so firm in his
which resistance should be attempted, it is place as Bonaparte did but two years ago.
so far from showing that it either can or ought There was the canker of tyranny, however,
to be repressed, that it is the very moral of in the full-blown flower of his greatness.
the whole tragedy, and of each of its separate With all the external signs of power and prosacts, that resistance is as inevitably the effect, perity, he was weak, because he was unjust
as it is immediately the cure and the punish- -he was insecure, because he was oppressive
ment of oppression. The crimes and excesses -and his state was assailed from without and
with which the revolution may be attended, deserted from within, for no other reason than
will be more or less violent in proportion to that his ambitious and injurious proceedings
the severity of the preceding tyranny, and had alienated the affections of his people, and
the degree of ignorance and degradation in alarmed the fears of his neighbours.
which it has kept the body of the people.   The moral, then, of the grand drama wihich
The rebellion of West India.slaves is more has occupied the scene of civilised Europe for
atrocious than the insurrection of a Parisian upwards of twenty years, is, we think, at last
populace;-and that again far more fierce sufficiently unfolded; —and  strange indeed
and sanguinary than the movements of an and deplorable it certainly were, if all that
English revolution.  But in all cases, the labour should have been without fruit, and all
radical guilt is in the tyranny which compels that suffering in vain. Something, surely, for
the resistance; and they who are the authors our own guidance, and for that of our posteri.
of the misery and the degradation, are also ty, we ought at last to learn, from so painful




RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS.                              58
and so codly an experiment. We have lived was absolutely necessary to contrive some
ages in these twenty years; and have seen means for bringing it to act directly on the
condensed, into the period of one short life, machine of government, and for bringing it
the experience of eventful centuries. All the regularly and openly to bear on the public
moral and all the political elements that en- counsels of the country. This was not negender or diversify great revolutions, have cessary while the bulk of the people were
been set in action, and made to produce their poor, abject, and brutish,-and tne nobles
full effect before us; and all the results of alone had either education, property, or acmisgovernment, in all its forms and in all its quaititance with affairs; and it was during
extremes, have been exhibited; on the grand- that period that the institutions were adopted,
est scale, in our view. Whatever quiescent which were maintained too long for the peace
indolence or empiric rashness, individual am- and credit of the world. Public opinion overbition or popular fury, unrectified enthusiasm  threw those in France; and the shock was
or brutal profligacy. could do to disorder the felt in every feudal monarchy in Europe.
counsels and embroil the affairs of a mighty But this sudden extrication of a noble and
nation, has been tried, without fear and with- beneficent principle, produced, at first, far
out moderation. We have witnessed the full greater evils than those which had proceeded
operation of every sort of guilt, and of every from  its repression.  aTh) extravagant and
sort of energy-the errors of strength and the erring spirit " was not yet enshrined in any
errors of weakness-and the mingling or con- fitting organisation; and, acting without baltrasting effects of terror and vanity, and wild ance or control, threw the whole mass of
speculations and antiquated prejudices, on the society into wilder and more terrible disorder
whole population of Europe. There has been than had ever been experienced before its
an excitement and a conflict to which there disclosure. It was then tried to compress it
is nothing parallel in the history of any past again into inactivity by violence and intimidageneration; and it may be said, perhaps with- tion: But it could not be so over-masteredout any great extravagance, that during the nor laid to rest, by all the powerful conjura.few years that have elapsed since the break- tions of the reign of terror; and, after a long
ing out of the French revolution, men have and painful struggle under the pressure of a
thought and acted, and sinned and suffered, military despotism, it has again broken loose,
more than in all the ages that have passed and pointed at last to the natural and approsince their creation. In that short period, priate remedy, of embodying it in a free Repevery thing has been questioned, every thing resentative Constitution, through the meditahas been su'ggested-and every thing has tion of which it may diffuse ] fe and vigour
been tried. There is scarcely any conceiva- through every member of societ y.
ble combination of circumstances under which    The true theory of that great revolution
men have not been obliged to act, and to an- therefore is, that it was produced by the rericipate and to suffer the consequences of pression or practical disregard of public opintheir acting. The most insane imaginations *ion, and that the evils with which it was
-the most fantastic theories-the most hor- attended, were occasioned by the want of
rible abominations, have all been reduded to any institution to control and regulate the
practice, and taken seriously upon trial. Noth- application of that opinion to the actual maning is now left, it would appear, to be projected agement of affairs: —And the grand moral
or attempted in government. We have ascer- that may be gathered from the whole eventtained experimentally the consequences of all ful history, seems therefore to be, that in an
extremes; and exhausted, in the real history enlightened period of society, no government
of twenty-five years, all the problems that can can be either prosperous or secure, which
be supplied by the whole science of politics. does not provide for expressing and giving
Something must have been learned from  effect to the general sense of the community.
this great condensation of experience; —some    This, it must be owned, is a lesson worth
leading propositions, either positive or nega- buying at some cost: —and, looking back on
tive, must have been established in the course the enormous price we have paid for it, it is no
of it:-And although we perhaps are as yet slight gratification to perceive, that it seems
too near the tumult and agitation of the catas- not only to have been emphatically taught
trophe, to be able to judge with precision of but effectually learned. In every corner of
their positive value and amount, we can hard- Europe, principles of moderation and liberly be mistaken as to their general tendency ality are at last not only professed, but, to
and import. The clearest and most indis- some extent, acted upon; and doctrines equalputable result is, that the prodigious advan- ly favourable to the liberty of individuals,
ces made by the body of the people, through- and the independence of nations, are univer
out the better parts of Europe, in wealth, sally promulgated, in quarters where some
consideration, and intelligence, had rendered little jealousy of their influence might have
the ancient institutions and exclusions of the been both expected and excused. If any one
old continental governments altogether un- doubts of the progress which the principles
suitable to their actual condition; that public of liberty have made since the beginning of
opinion had tacitly acquired a commanding the French revolution, and of the efficacy of
and uncontrollable power in every enlight- that lesson which its events have impressed
ened community; and that, to reAder its on every court of the Continent, let him com.
operation in any degree safe, or consistent pare the conduct of the Allies at this moment,
with any regularsplan of administration, it with that which they held in 1790 —let him




590                            GENERAL POLITICS.
contrast the treaty of Pilnitz with the decla- the other. Nothing, in short, can account for
ration of Frankfort-and set on one hand the altered tone and alteredpolicyof the great
the proclamation of the Duke of Brunswick Sovereigns of the Continent, but their growing
upon entering the French territories in 1792, conviction of the necessity of regulated freeand that of the Emperor of Russia on the dom to the peace and prosperity of the world,
same occasion in 1814; —let him think how  -but their feeling that, in the more enlightLa Fayette and Dumourier were treated at ened parts of Europe, men could no longer be
the former period, and what honours have governed but by their reason, and that justice
been lavished on Moreau and Bernadotte in and moderation were the only true safeguards
the latter-or, without dwelling on particu- of a polished throne. By this high testimony,
lars, let him ask himself, whether it would we think, the cause of Liberty is at length set
have been tolerated among the loyal Antigal- up above all hazard of calumny or discountelicans of that day, to have proposed, in a mo- nance; —and its interests, we make no doubt,
ment of victory, that a representative assem- will be more substantially advanced, by being
bly should share the powers of legislation thus freely and deliberately recognised, in the
with the restored sovereign-that the noblesse face of Europe, by its mightiest and most
should renounce all their privileges, except absolute princes, than they could otherwise
such, as were purely honorary-that citizens have been by all the reasonings of philosophy,
of all ranks should be equally eligible to all and the toils of patriotism, for many succesemployments-that all the officers and digni- sive generations.
taries of the revolutionary government should   While this is the universal feeling among
retain their rank-that the nation should be those who have the best opportunity, and the
taxed only by its representatives-that all strongest interest to form a just opinion on
sorts of national property should be ratified. the subject, it is not a little strange and mormnd that perfect toleration in religion, liberty tifying, that there should still be a party in
of the press, and trial by jury, should be es- this country, who consider those great transtablished. Such, however, are the chief bases actions under a different aspect; —who look
of that constitution, which was cordially ap- with jealousy and grudging upon all that has
proved by the Allied Sovereigns, after they been done for the advancement of freedom;
were in possession of Paris; and, with refer- and think the splendour of the late events
ence to which, their August Chief made that considerably tarnished by those stipulations
remarkable declaration, in the face of Europe, for national liberty, which form to other eyes
";That France stood in need of strong institu- their most glorious and happy feature. We
tions, and such as were suited to the intelli- do not say this invidiously, nor out of any
gence of the age."                        spirit of faction: But the fact is unquestionSuch is the improved creed of modern courts,. able; —and it is worth while both to record,
as to civil liberty and the rights of individuals. and to try to account for it. An arrangement,
With regard to national justice and independ- which satisfies all the arbitrary Sovereigns
ence again —is there any one so romantic as of Europe, and is cordially adopted by the
to believe. that if the Allied Sovereigns had Monarch who is immediately affected by it,
dissipated the armies of the republic, and is objected to as too democratical, by a party
entered the metropolis as conquerors in 1792, in this free country! The Autocrator of all
they would have left to France all her ancient the Russias-the Imperial Chief of the Gerterritories -or religiously abstained from in- manic principalities-the Military Sovereign
terfering in the settlement of i7 ~government, of Prussia-are all agreed, that France should
-or treated her baffled warriors and states- have a free government: Nay, the King of
men with honourable courtesies, and her France himself is thoroughly persuaded of
humbled and guilty Chief with magnanimous the same great truth; —and all the world
forbearance and clemency I The conduct we rejoices at its ultimate acknowledgmenthave just witnessed, in all these particulars, except only the Tories of England! They
is wise and prudent, no doubt, as well as mag- cannot conceal their mortification at this final
nanimous; —and the splendid successes which triumph of the popular cause; and, while
have crowned the arms of the present Deliv- they rejoice at the restoration of the King to
erers of Europe, may be ascribed even more the throne of his ancestors, and the recal of
to the temper than to the force with which his loyal nobility to their ancient honours, are
they have been wielded;-certainly more to evidently not a little hurt at the advantages
the plain justice and rationalty of the cause which have been, at the same time, secured
in which they were raised, than to either.-  to the People. They are very glad, certainly,
Yet those very successes exclude all supposi- to see Louis XVIII. on the throne of Napoleon,
tion of this justice and liberality being assum- -but they would have liked him better if he
ed out of fear or necessity;-and establish the had not spoken so graciously to the Marshals
sincerity of those professions, which it would of the revolution,-if he had not so freely
no doubt have been the best of all policy at accepted the constitution which restrained his
any rate to have made. It is equally decisive, prerogative,-nor so cordially held out the
however, of the merit of the agents and of hand of conciliation to all descriptions of his
the principles, that the most liberal maxims subjects; —if he had been less magnanimous
were held out by the most decided victors; in short, less prudent, and less amiable. It
and the greatest honours paid to civil and to would have answered better to their ideas of
national freedom, when it was most in their a glorious restoration, if it could have been
powver to have crushed the one, and invaded accomplished without any conditions; and if




RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS.                             59i
the Prince had thrown himself entirely into their ideas of the old French monarchy. They
the hands of those bigotted emigrants, who have read Burke, till their fancies are some.
effect to be displeased with his acceptance what heated with the picturesque image of
of a limited crown. In their eyes, the thing tempered royalty and polished aristocracy,
would have been more complete, if the no- which he has held out in his splendid pictures
blesse had been restored at once to all their of France as it was before the revolution;
feudal privileges, and the church to its ancient and have been so long accustomed to contrast
endowments. And we cannot help suspect- those comparatively happy and prosperous
ing, that they think the loss of those vain and days, with the horrors and vulgar atrocities
oppressive trappings, but ill compensated by that ensued. that they forget the many real
the increased dignity and worth of the whole evils and oppressions of which that brilliant
population, by the equalisation of essential monarchy was productive, and think that the
rights, and the provision made for the free succeeding abominations cannot be completeenjoyment of life, property, and conscience, ly expiated till it be restored as it originally
by the great body of the people.          existed.
Perhaps we exaggerate a little in our rep-   All these, and we believe many other illuresentation of sentiments ti which we do not sions of a similar nature, slight and fanciful
at all concur:-But, certainly, in conversa- as they may appear, contribute largely, we
tion and in common newspapers-those light have no doubt, to that pardonable feeling of
straws that best show how the wind sits-  dislike to the limitation of the old monarchy,
one hears and sees, every day, things that which we conceive to be very discernible in
approach at least to the spirit we have at- a certain part of our population. The great
tempted to delineate,-and afford no slight source of that feeling, however, and that
presumption of the prevalence of such opin- which gives root and nourishment to all the
ions as we lament. 11n lamenting them, how- rest, is the Ignorance which prevails in this
ever, we would not indiscriminately blame. country, both of the evils of arbitrary govern-They are not all to be ascribed to a spirit ment, and of the radical change in the feelof servility, or a disregard of the happiness ings and opinions of the Continent, which has
of mankind. Here, as in other heresies, there rendered it no longer practicable in its more
is an intermixture of errors thiat are to be enlightened quarters. Our insular situation,
pardoned, and principles that are to be re- and the measure of freedom we enjoy, have
spected. There are patriotic prejudices, and done us this injury; along with the infinite'
illusions of the imagination, and misconcep- good of which they have been the occasions.
lions from ignorance, at the bottom  of this We do not know either the extent of the misery
unnatural antipathy to freedom in the citizen3 and weakness produced by tyranny, or the
of a free land; as well as more sordid inter- force and prevalence of the conviction which
ssts, and more wilful perversions.  Some has:cently arisen, wherethey arebestknown,,turdy Englishmen are staunch for our mo- that they are no longer to be tolerated. On
iopoir of liberty; and feel as if it was an the Continent, experience has at last done,zisolcnt invasion of British privileges, for any far more to enlighten public opinion upon
oher nution to set up a free constitution!-  these subjects, than reflection and reasoning
Others'spprchend serious dangers to our great- in this Island.  There, nations have been
ness, i; This mainspring and fountain of our found irresistible, when the popular feeling
prosperity be communicated to other lands.-  was consulted; and absolutely impotent and.A still greater proportion, we believe, are in- indefensible ~ here it had been outraged and
fluenced by coinsiderations yet more fantasti- disregarded: And this necessity of consulting
cal.-They have been so long used to consider the general opinion, has led; on both sides, to
the old government of France as the perfect a great relaxation of many of the principles
model of a feudal monarchy, softened and on which they originally went to issue.
adorned by the refinements of modern society,   Of this change in the terms of the questhat they are quite sorry to paIt with so fine tion-and especially of the great abatement
a specimen of chivalrous mainne;s and institu- which it had been found necessary to make
tions; and look upon it, with all its ciharacter- in the pretensions of the old governments, we
istic and imposing accompaniments, of a br;l- were generally but little aware in this country.
liant and warlike nobility, -a gallant court,-  Spectators as we have been of the distant and
a gorgeous hierarchy,-a gay and familiar protracted contest between ancient institutions
vassalage, with the same sort of feelings with and authorities on the one hand, and demowhich they would be apt to regard the sump- cratical innovation on the other, we are apt
tuous pageantry and splendid solemnities of still to look upon the parties to that contest
the Romish ritual. They are very good Pro- as occupying nearly the same positions, and
testants themselves; and know too well the maintaining the same principles, they did at
value of religious truth and liberty, to wish the beginning; while those who have been
for any less simple, or more imposing system  nearer to the scene of action, or themselves
at home; but they have no objection that it partakers of the fray, are aware that, in the
should exist among their neighbours, that course of that long conflict, each party has
their taste may be gratified by the magnificent been obliged to recede from some of its prespectacles it affords, and their imaginations tensions, and to admit, in some degree, the
warmed with the ideas of venerable and justice of those that are made against it.
pompous antiquity, which it is so well fitted Here, where we have been but too apt to con
to suggest. The case is nearly the same with sider the mighty game which has been play




592                            GENERAL POLITICS.
ing in our sight, and partly at our expense, as hands. Compared with acts so unequivocafl
an occasion for exercising our own party ani- all declarations may justly be regarded as in.
mosities, or seeking illustrations for our pecu- significant: but there are declarations also to
liar theories of government, we are still as the same purpose; —made freely and deliberdiametrically opposed, and as keen in our ately on occasionsof unparalleled importance,
hostilit;es, as ever. The controversy with us — and for no other intelligible purpose but
being In a great measure speculative, would solemnly to announce to mankind the generous
lose its interest and attraction, if anything principle on which those mighty actions had
like a compromise were admitted; and we been performed.
choose, therefore, to shut our eyes to the great   But while these authorities and these conand visible approximation into which time, siderations may be expected, in due time, to
and experience, and necessity have forced the overcome that pardonable dislike to contiactual combatants. We verily believe, that. nental liberty which arises from ignorance or
except in the imaginations of English politi- natural prejudices, we will confess that we
cians, there no longer exist in the world any by no means reckon on the total disappearsuch aristocrats and democrats as actually ance of this illiberal jealousy. There is, and
divided all Europe in the early days of the we fear there will always be, among us, a set
French revolution. In this country, however, of persons who conceive it to be for their inwe still speak and feel as if they existed; and terest to decry every thing that is favourable
the champions of aristocracy in particular, con- to liberty,-and who are guided only by a retinue, with very few exceptions, both to main- gard to their interest. In a government contain pretensions that their principals have long stituted like ours, the Court must almost
ago abandoned, and to impute to their adver- always be more or less jealous, and perhap)
saries, crimes and absurdities with which  justly, of the encroachment of popular printhey have long ceased to be chargeable. To ciples, and disposed to show favour to those
them, therefore, no other alternative has yet who would diminish the influence and aupresented itself but the absolute triumph of thority of such principles. Without intending
one or other of two opposite and irreconcile- or wishing to render the British crown altoable extremes. Whatever is taken from the gether arbitrary, it still seems to them to be
sovereign, they consider as being necessarily in favour of its constitutional privileges, that
given to crazy republicans; and very naturally arbitrary monarchies should, to a certain ex-'dislike all limitations of the royal power, be- tent, be defended; and an artful apology for
cause they are unable to distinguish them  tyranny is gratefully received as an argument
from usurpations by the avowed enemies of all a foretiori in support of a vigorous prerogasubordination. That the real state of things has tive. The leaders of the party, therefore, lean
long been extremely different, men of reflec- that way; and their baser followers rush clatiori might have concluded from the known morously along it —to the very brink of servile
principles of human nature, and men of infor- sedition, and treason against the constitution.
mation must have learned from sources of un-   Such men no arguments will silence, and
doubted authority: But no smallproportion of no authorities convert. It is their profession
our zealous politicians belong to neither of to discredit and oppose all that tends to prothose classes; and we ought not, perhaps, to mote the freedom of mankind; and in that
wonder, if they are slow in admitting truths vocation they will infallibly labour. so long as
which a predominating party has go long it yields them a profit. At the p'resent mothought it for its interest to misrepresent or ment, too, we have no doubt, that their zeal
disguise. The time, however, seems almost is quickened by their alarm; since, independcome, when conviction must be forced even ent of the general damage which the cause
upon their reluctant understandings, —and by of arbitrary government must sustain from the
the sort of evidence best suited to their capa- events of which we have been speaking, their
city. They would probably be little moved by immediate consequences in this country are
the best arguments that could be addressed to likely to be eminently favourable to the inthem, and might distrust the testimony of or- terests of regulated liberty and temperate redinary observers; but they cannot well refuse form. Next to the actual cessation of bloodto yield to the opinions of the great Sovereigns shed and suffering, indeed, we consider this
of the Continent, and must even give faith to to be the greatest domestic benefit that we
their professions, when they find them con- are likely to reap from the peace,-and the
firmed at all points by their actions. If the circumstance, in our new situation, which calls
establishment ofa limited monarchy in France the loudest for our congratulation. We are
would be dangerous to sovereign authority in perfectly aware, that it is a subject of. regret
all the adjoining regions, it is not easy to con- to many patriotic individuals, that the brilliant
ceive that it should have met with the cordial successes at which we all rejoice. should have
approbation of the Emperors of Austria and occurred arder an administration which has
Russia, and the King of Prussia, in the day of not manife.,d any extraordinary dislike to
their most brilliant success; or that that mo- abuses, nor  y very cordial attachment to the
ment of triumph on the part of the old princes rights and lberties of the people; and we
of Europe should have been selected as the know, tha, it has been an opinion pretty curperiod when the thrones of France, and Spain, rent, both with them and their antagonists,
and Holland, were to be surrounded with per- that those successes will fix them so firmly in
manent limitations,-imposed with their ceor- power. that they will be enabled, if they should
dial assent, and we might almost say, by their be so inclined, to deal more largely in abuses,




RESTORATION OF THE BOURBONS.                             593
and to press more closely on our liberties, than too, to make a fair and natural appeal to the
any of Iheir predecessors. For our own part, analogous acts or institutions of other nations,
however, we have never been able to see without being met by the cry of revolution
things in this inauspicious light;-and having and democracy, or the imputation of abetting
no personal or factious quarrel with our pres- the proceedings of a sanguinary despot. We
ent ministers, are easily comforted for the in- shall again see the abuses of old hereditary
creased chance of their continuance in office, power, and the evils of maladministration in
by a consideration of those circumstances that legitimate hands; and be permitted to argue
must infallibly, under any ministry, operate from them, without the reproach of disaffecto facilitate reform, to diminish the power of tion to the general cause of mankind. Men
the Crown, and to consolidate the liberties of and things, in short, we trust, will again re.
the nation. If our readers agree with us in ceive their true names, on a fair consideration
our estimate of the importance of these cir- of their merits; and our notions of political
cumstances, we can scarcely doubt that they desert be no longer confounded by indiscrimiwill concur in our general conclusion.    nate praise of all who are with us, and inIn the first place, then, it is obvious, that tolerant abuse of all who are against us, in a
the direct patronage and indirect influence or struggle that touches the sources of so many
the Crown must be most seriously and effect- passions. When we plead for the emancipaually abridged by the reduction of our army tion of the Catholics of Ireland, we shall no
and navy, the diminution of our taxes, and, longer be told that the Pope is a mere puppet
generally speaking, of all our establishments, in the hands of an inveterate foe, —nor be deupon the ratification of peace.  We have terred from protesting against the conflagration
thought it a great deal gained for the Consti- of a friendly capital, by the suggestion, that
tution of late years, when we could strike oil no other means were left to prevent that same
a few hundred thousand pounds of offices in foe from possessing himself of its fleet. Exthe gift of the Crown, that had become use- ceptions and extreme cases, in short, will no
less, or might be consolidated;-and now the longer furnish the ordinary rules of our conpeace will, at one blow, strike off probably duct; and it will be impossible, by extraneous
thirty or forty millions of government expendi- arguments, to baffle every attempt at a fair esture, ordinary or extraordinary. This alone timateofourpublicprinciplesandproceedings.
might restore the balance of the Constitution.   These, we think, are among the necessary
In the next place, a continuance of peace consequences of a peace concluded in such
and prosperity will naturally produce a greater circumstances as we have now been considerdiffusion of wealth, and consequently a greater ing; and they are but a specimen of the kinspirit of independence in the body of the peo- dred consequences to which it must infallibly
ple; which, co-operating with the diminished lead. If these ensue, however, and are alpower of the government to provide for its lowed to produce their natural effects, it is a
baser adherents, must speedily thin the ranks matter of indifference to us whether Lord
of its regular supporters, and expose it far Castlereagh and Lord Liverpool, or Lord Grey
more effectually to the control of a weightier and Lord Grenville are at the head of the
and more impartial public opinion.        government. The former, indeed, may probIn the third place, the events to which we ably be a little uneasy in so new a posture of
have alluded, and the situation in which they affairs; but they will either conform to it, or
will leave us, will take away almost all those abandon their posts in despair. To control or
pretexts for resisting inquiry into abuses, and alter it, will assuredly be beyond their power.
proposals for reform, by the help of which,   With these pleasing anticipations, we would
rather than of any serious dispute on the prin- willingly close this long review of the State and
ciple, these important discussions have been  Prospects of the European Commonwealth,
waived for these last twenty years. We shall in its present great crisis, of restoration, or of
no longer be stopped with the plea of its being new revolutions. But. cheering and beautiful
no fit time to quarrel about the little faults or as it is, and disposed as we think we have
our Constitution, when we are struggling with  shown ourselves to look hopefully upon it, it
a ferocious enemy for its very existence. It is impossible to shut our eyes on two dark
will not now do to tell us, that it is both dan- stains that appear on the bright horizon, and
gerous and disgraceful to shoxw ourselves dis- seem already to tarnish the glories with which
united in a season of such imminent peril —or they are so sadly contrasted. One is of longer
that all great and patriotic minds should be standing, and perhaps of deeper dye. —But
entirely engrossed with the care of our safety, both are most painful deformities on the face
and can have neither leisure nor energy to of so fair a prospect; and may be mentioned
bestow upon concerns less urgent or vital. with less scruple and greater hope, from thte
The restoration of peace, on the contrary, will consideration, that those who have now the
soon leave us little else to do;-and when we powerof effacingthem canscarcelybecharged
have no invasions nor expeditions-nor coali- with the guilt of their production, and have
tions nor campaigns-nor even any loans and given strong indications of dispositions that
budgets to fill the minds of our statesmen, and must lead them to wish for their removal. We
the ears of our idle politicians, we think it al-. need scarcely give the key to these observamost certain that questions of reform will rise tions by naming the names of Poland and of
into paramount importance, and the redress Norway. Nor do we propose, on the present
of abuses become the most interesting of pub- occasion, to do much more than to name them.
lie pursuits. We shall be once more entitled, Of the latter, we shall plobably contrive to
38




b94                             GENERAL POLITICS.
speak fully on a future occasion. Of the for- i to rouse its vast and warlike population with
mer, many of our readers may think we have, the vain promise of independence; while it is
on former occasions, said at least enough. perfectly manifest that those, by whom alone
Our zeal in that cause, we know, has been  that promise could be effectually kept, would
made matter of wonder, and even of derision, gain prodigiously, both in security and in subamong certain persons who value themselves stantial influence, by its faithful performance.
on the character of practical politicians and  It is not, however, for the mere name of
men of the world; and we have had the satis- independence, nor for the lost glories of an
faction of listening to various witty sneers on ancient and honourable existence, that the
the mixed simplicity and extravagance of people of Poland are thus eager to array
supposing, that the kingdom of the Poles was themselves in any desperate strife of which
to be re-established by a dissertation in an  this may be proclaimed as the prize. We
English journal. It would perhaps be enough  have shown, in our last number, the substanto state, that, independent of any view to an  tial and intolerable evils which this extinction
immediate or practical result in other regions, of their national dignity-this sore and unit is of some consequence to keep the obser- merited wound to their national pride; has
vation of England alive, and its feelings awake, necessarily occasioned: And thinking, as we
upon a subject of this importance: But we do, that a people without the feelings of namust beg leave to add, that such dissertations tional pride and public duty must be a people
are humbly conceived to be among the legiti- without energy and without enjoyments, we
mate means by which the English public both  apprehend it to be at any rate indisputable, in
instructs and expresses itself; and that the the present instance, that the circumstances
opinion of the English public is still allowed  which have dissolved their political being,
to have weight with its government; which  have struck also at the root of their individual
again cannot well be supposed to be altogether happiness and prosperity; and that it is not
without influence in the councils of its allies. merely the unjust destruction of an ancient
Whatever becomes of Polandi, it is most kindom that we lament, but the condemnation
material, we think, that the people of this of fifteen millions of human beings to uncountry should judge soundly, and feel right- profitable and unparalleled misery.
ly, on a matter that touches on principles of   But though these are the considerations by
such general application. But every thing which the feelings of private individuals are
that has passed since the publication of our most naturally affected, it should never be
former remarks, combines to justify what we forgotten; that all the principles on which the
then stated; and to encourage us to make great fabric of national independence conlouder and more energetic appeals to the jus- fessedly rests in Europe, are involved in the
tice and prudence and magnanimity of the decision of this question; and that no one
parties concerned in this transaction. The nation can be secure in its separate existence,
words and the deeds of Alexander that have, if all the rest do not concur in disavowing
since that period, passed into the page of the maxims which were acted upon in the
history-the principles he has solemnly pro- partition of Poland. It is not only mournful
fessed, and the acts by which he has sealed to see the scattered and bleeding members of
that profession-entitle us to expect from him  that unhappy state still palpitating and agoa strain of justice and generosity, which vul- nising on the spot where it lately stood erect
gar politicians may call romantic if they please, in youthful vigour and beauty; but it is unsafe
but which all men of high principles and en- to breathe the noxious vapours which this
larged understandings will feel to be not more melancholy spectacle exhales.  The wholeheroic than judicious. While Poland remains some neighbourhood is poisoned by their dif.
oppressed and discontented, the peace of Eu- fusion; and every independence within their
rope will always be at the mercy of any am- range, sickens and is endangered by the conbitious or intriguing power that may think fit tagion.
(februarV,  1811.)
Speech of the Right Hon. William  Windham, in the House of Commons May 26, 1809, on
Mr. Curwen s Bill, "for better securing the Independence and Purity of Parliament, by
preventing the procuring or obtaining of Seats by corrupt Practices."  8vo. pp. 43.
London: 1810.A
MR. WINDHAM, the most high-minded and in selling seats in parliament openly to the,incorruptible of living men, can see no harm  highest bidder, or for excluding public trusts
* The passing of the Reform Bill has antiquated ponents of reform principles-which are applicable
much of the discussion in this article, as originally to all times, and all conditions of society; and of
written; and a considerable portion of it is now, for which recent events and discussions seem to show
this reason, omitted. But it also contains answers that the present generation may still need to be re.
to the systematic apologists of corruption, and op- minded.




WINDHAM'S SPEECH.                                595
generally from the money market; and is of pernicious and reprehensible cf all political
spinion that political influence arising from  abuses.
property should be disposed of like other   The natural influence of property is that
property. It will be readily supposed that which results spontaneously from its ordinary
we do not assent to any part of this doctrine; use and expenditure, and cannot well be misand indeed we must beg leave to say, that to understood. That a marl who spends a large
us it is no sort of argument for the sale of income in the place of his residence-who
seats. to contend that such a transference is subscribes handsomely for building bridges,
no worse than the possession of the property hospitals, and assembly-rooms, and generally
transferred; and to remind us, that he who to all works of public charity or accommodaobjects to men selling their influence, must tion in the neighbourhood-and who, morebe against their having it to sell. We are over, keeps the best table for the gentry, and
decidedly against their having it-to sell! has the largest accounts with the tradesmen
and, as to what is here considered as the -will, without thinking or caring about the
necessary influence of property over elections, matter acquire more influence, and find more
we should think there could be no great diffi- people ready to oblige him, than a poorer man,
culty in drawing the line between the legiti- of equal virtue and talents —is a fact, which
mate, harmless- and even beneficial use of we are as little inclined to deplore, as to call
property, even as connected with elections; in question. Neither does it cost us any pang
and its direct employment for the purchase to reflect, that, if such a man was desirous of
of parliamentary influence. Almost all men-  representing the borough in which he resided,
indeed, we think, all men-admit, that some or of having it represented by his son or his
line is to be drawn;-that the political influ- brother, or some dear and intimate friend, his
ence of property should be confined to that recommendation would go much farther with
which is essential to its use and enjoyment; the electors than a respectable certificate of
-and that penalties should be inflicted, when extraordinary worth and abilities in an opposit is directly applied to the purchase of votes; ing candidate.
though that is perhaps the only case in which   Such an influence as this, it would evidently
the law can interfere vindictivelvy, without in- be quite absurd for any legislature to think
troducing far greater evils than those which of interdicting, or even for any reformer to atit seeks to remedy.                       tempt to discredit. In the first place, because
To those who are already familiar with the it is founded in the very nature of men and
facts and the reasonings that bear upon this of human affairs, and could not possibly be
great question, these brief suggestions will prevented, or considerably weakened, by any
probably be sufficient; but there are many to thing short of an universal regeneration; sewhom the subject will require a little more condly; because, though originating from proexplanation; and for whose use, at all events, perty, it does by no means imply, either the
the argument must be a little more opened baseness of venality, or the guilt of corrupup and expanded.                          tion; but rests infinitely more upon feelings
If men were perfectly wise and virtuous, of vanity, and social instinctive sympathy,
they would stand in no need either of Govern- than upon any consciousness of dependence,
ment or of Representatives; and, therefore. or paltry expectation of personal emolument;
if they do need them, it is quite certain that and, thirdly, because, taking men as they actheir choice will not be influenced by con- tually are, this mixed feeling is, upon the
siderations of duty or wisdom  alone, We whole both a safer and a better feeling than
may assume it as an axiom, therefore, how- the greater part of those, to the influence of
ever the purists may be scandalised, that, which they would be abandoned, if this should
even in political elections, some other feel- be destroyed. If the question were, always,
ings will necessarily have play; and that pas- whether a man of wealth and family. or a man
sions, and prejudices, and personal interests, of sense and virtue, should have the greatest
will always interfere, to a greater or less ex- influence, it would no doubt be desirable that
tent, with the higher dictates of patriotism  the preponderance should be given to moral
and philanthropy. Of these sinister motives, and intellectual merit. But this is by no
individual interest, of course, is the strongest means the true state of the contest: —and
and most steady; and wealth, being its most when the question is between the influence
common and appropriate object, it is natural of property and the influence of intriguing amto expect that the possession of property bition and turbulent popularity, we own that
should bestow some political influence. The we are glad to find the former most frequently
questi n, therefore, is, whether this influence prevalent. In ordinary life, and in common
can ever be safe or tolerable-or whether it affairs, this natural and indirect influence of
be possible to mark the limits at which it be- property is vast and infallible, even upon the
comes so pernicious as to justify legislative best and most enlightened part of the comcoercion. Now, we are so far from thinking, munity; and nothing can conduce so surely to
with Mr. Windham, that there is no room for the stability and excellence of a political conany distinction in this matter, that we are in- stitution, as to make it rest upon the general
cined, on the whole, to be of opinion, that principles that regulate the conduct of the
what we would term the natural and inevita- better part of the individuals who live under
ble influence of property in elections, is not it, and tc attach them to their government by
only safe, but salutary; while its artificial the same feelings which insure their affecand corrupt influence is among the most tion or submission in their private capacity




596                             GENERAL POLITICS.
There could be no security, in short, either sequence of the extension of their possessions1
for property, or for any thing else, in a coun- and the decline of the population. Consider.
try where the possession of property did not ed in this light, it does not appear that they
bestow some political influence.            can. with any propriety., be regarded either as
This, then, is the natural influence of pro- scenes of criminal corruption, or as examples
perty; which we would not only tolerate, but of the reprehensible influence of property. If
encourage. We must now endeavour to ex- a place which still retains (however absurdly)
plain that corrupt or artificial influence, which the right of sending members to parliament,
we conceive it to be our duty by all means to comes to be entirely depopulated, like Old
resist and repress. Under thisname, we would Sarum, it is impossible to suppose that the
comprehend all wilful and direct employment nomination of its members should vest in any
of property to purchase or obtain political one but the Proprietor of the spot to which
power, in whatever form the transaction might the right is attached: and, even where the
be embodied: but, with reference to the more decay is less complete than in this instance,
common cases, we shall exemplify only in the still, if any great family has gradually acquirinstances of purchasing votes by bribery, or ed the greater part of the property from which
holding the property of those votes distinct the right of voting is derived, it is equally
from any other property, and selling and trans- impossible to hold that there is any thing corferring this for a price, like any other market- rupt or reprehensible in its availing itself of
able commodity. All such practices are stig- this influence. Cases of this sort, therefore,
matized, in common language, and in common we are inclined to consider as cases of the
feelings, as corrupt and discreditable; and fair influence of property; and though we
the slightest reflection upon their principles admit them to be both contradictory to the
and their consequences, will show, that while general scheme of the Constitution, and subthey tend to debase the character of all who versive of some of its most important princiare concerned in them, they lead directly to ples, we think they are to be regarded as flaws
the subversion of all that is valuable in a and irregularities brought on by time and the
representative system of government. That course of events, rather than as abuses introthey may, in some cases, be combined with duced by the vices and corruptions of men.
that indirect and legitimate influence of pro- The remedy-and we certainly think a very
perty of which we have just been speaking, obvious and proper remedy-would be, to
and, in others be insidiously engrafted upon take the right of election from all places so
it it is impossible to deny; but that they are small and insignificant as to have thus becdearly distinguishable from the genuine fruits come, in a great measure, the property of an
of that influence, both in their moral character individual-not to rail at the individual who
and their political effects, we conceive to be avails himself of the influence inseparable
equally indisputable.                      from such property-or to dream of restrainUpon the subject of direct bribery to inli- ing him in its exercise, by unjust penalties
vidual voters, indeed, we do not think it ne- and impossible regulations.
cessary to say any thing. The law, and the   The great evil, however. is in the other defeeling of all mankind have marked that prac- scription of boroughs-those that are held by
tice with reprobation: and even Mr. Wind- agents or jobbers, by a very different tenure
ham, in the wantonness of his controversial from that of great proprietors and benefactors,
scepticism, does not pretend'to say, that the and are regularly disposed of by them, at
law or the feeling is erroneous, or that it would every election, for a price paid down, either
not be better that both should, if' possible, be through the mediation of the ministry, or
made still stronger than they are.         without any such mediation: a part of this
Setting this aside, however, the great prac- price being notoriously applied by such agents
tical evils that are supposed to result from the in direct bribes to individual voters-and the
influence of property in the elections of this remainder taken to themselves as the lawful
country, are, 1st, that the representation of profits of the transaction. Now, without going
certain boroughs is entirely, necessarily and into any sort of detail, we think we might at
perpetually, at the disposal of certain fami- once venture to ask, whether it be possible for
lies, so as to be familiarly considered as a any man to shut his eyes upon the individual
part of their rightful property; and, 2dly, infamy and the public hazard that are involvthat certain other boroughs are held and ma- ed in these last-mentioned proceedings. or for
naged by corrupt agents and jobbers, for the one moment to confound therf, even in his
express purpose of being sold for a price in imagination, with the innocent ai'd salutary inready money, either through the intervention fluence that is inseparable from the possession
of the Treasury, or directly to the candidate. and expenditure of large property  The differThat both these are evils and deformities in ence between them, is not less than between
our system of representation, we readily ad- the influence which youth and manly beauty,
mit; though by no means to the same extent, aided by acts of generosity arid proofs of holeading to the same effects, or produced by nourable intentions may attain over an object
the operation of the same causes.           of affection, and the control that may be acWith regard to the boroughs that are per- quired by the arts of a hateful procuress, and
manently in possession of certain great pro- by her transferred to an object of natural dis.
prietors, these are, for the most part, such gust and aversion. The one is founded upon
small or decayed places, as have fallen, al- principles which, if they are not the moAt
most insensibly, under their control, in con- lofty or infallible, are still among the most




WINDHAM'S SPEECH.                                597
amiable that belong to our imperfect nature, by whom the frame of our constitution was
and leads to consequences eminently favour- laid; and it is confessedly a perversion and
able to the harmony and stability of our social abuse of a system, devised and established
institutions; while the other call only be ob- for very opposite purposes. Let arty man ask
tained by working with the basest instruments himself, whether such a scheme of represenon the basest passions; and tends directly to tation, as is now actually in practice in many
sap the foundations of private honour and pub- parts of this country, can be supposed to have
lic freedom, and to dissolve the kindly cement been intended by those who laid the foundaby which nature herself has knit society to- tions of our free constitution, or reared upon
gether, in.the bonds of human sympathy, and them the proud fabric of our liberties? Or
mutual trust and dependence. To say that let him ask himself, whether, if we were now
both sorts of influence are derived from pro- devising a system of representation for such a
perty, and are therefore to be considered as country as England, there is any human being
identical, is a sophism scarcely more ingeni- who would recommend the adoption of the
ous, than that which would confound the oc- system that is practically established among
cupations of the highwayman and the honour- us at this moment,-a system under which
able merchant, because the object of both was fifty or sixty members should be returned by
gain; or which'should assume the philoso- twenty or thirty paltry and beggarly hamlets,
phical principle, that all voluntary actions are dignified with the name of boroughs; while
dictated by a view to ultimate gratification, in twenty or thirty great and opulent towns had
order to prove that there was no distinction no representation;-and where upwards of a
between vice and virtue; and that the felon, hundred more publicly bought their seats,
who was led to execution amidst the execra- partly by a promise of indiscriminate support
tions of an indignant multitude, was truly as to the minister, and partly by a sum paid
meritorious as the patriot, to whom his grate- down to persons who had no natural influence
ful country decreed unenvied honours for its over the electors, and controlled them notodeliverance from tyranny. The truth is, that riously, either by direct bribery, or as the
there is nothing more dangerous than those agents of ministerial corruption?  If it be
metaphysical inquiries into the ultimate con- clear, however, that such a state of things is
stituents of merit or delinquency; and that, in itself indefensible, it is still clearer that it
in every thing that is connected with practice, is not the state of things which is required by
and especially with public conduct, no wise the true principles of the constitution; that, in
man will ever employ such an analytical pro- point of fact, it neither did nor could exist at
cess to counteract the plain intimations of the time when that constitution was estabconscience and common sense, unless for the lished; and that its correction would be no
purpose of confounding an antagonist, or per- innovation on that constitution, but a benefiplexing a discussion, to the natural result of cial restoration of it, both in principle and in
which he is unfriendly on other principles.   practice.
But if the practices to which we are alluding   If some of the main pillars of our mansion
be clearly base and unworthy in the eyes of have been thrown down, is it a dangerous inall upright and honourable men, and most novation to rear them up again? If the roof
pregnant with public danger in the eyes of has grown too heavy for the building, by reall thinking and intelligent men, it must ap- cent and injudicious superstructures, is it an
pear still more strange to find them defended innovation, if we either take them down, or,on the score of their Antiquity, than on that strengthen the supports upon which they deof their supposed affinity to practices that are pend? If the waste of time, and the eleheld to be innocent. Yet the old cryof Inno- ments, have crumbled away a part of the
vation! has been raised, with more than usual foundation, does it show a disregard to the
vehemence, against those who offer the most safety of the whole pile, if we widen the basis
cautious hints for their correction; and even upon which it rests, and endeavour to place
Mr. Windham has not disdained to seek some it upon deeper and firmer materials? If the
aid to his argument from a misapplication of rats have eaten a way into the stores and the
the sorry commonplaces about the antiquity cellars; or if knavish servants have opened
and beauty of our constitution, and the hazard private and unauthorised communications in
of meddling at all with that under which we the lower parts of the fabric, does it indeed
have so long enjoyed so much glory and hap- indicate a disposition to impair the comfort
piness. Of the many good answers that may and security of the abode, that we are anxious
be made to all arguments of this character, to stop up those holes, and to build across
we shall content ourselves with one, which those new and suspicious approaches?-Is it
seems sufficiently conclusive and simple.    not obvious, in short, in all such cases, that
The abuses. of which we complain, are not the only true innovators are Guilt and Time;
old, but recent; and those who seek to correct and that they who seek to repair what time
them, are not innovating upon the constitu- has wasted; and to restore what guilt has
tion, but seeking to prevent innovation. The destroyed, are still more unequivocally the
ractice of jobbing in boroughs was scarcely enemies of innovation, than of abuse? Those
known at all in the beginning of the last cen- who are most aware of the importance of re
tury; and was not systematized, nor carried form, are also most aware of the hazards of
to any very formidable extent, till within the any theoretical or untried change; and, while
last forty years. At all events, it most cer- they strictly confine their efforts to the restitu
tainly was not in the contemplation of those I tion of what all admit to have been in the




598                            GENERAL POLITICS.
original plan of our representation, and to have men within doors to the gentlemen without,
formed a most essential part of that plan, may and when they are reproached with not having
reasonably hope, whatever other charges they clean hands, it may be very natural for them
may encounter; to escape that of a love of to ask a sight of those of their accusers. But
innovation.                                 is this any answer at all, to those who insist
There is another topic, on which Mr. Wind- upon the infamy and the dangers of corrupham  has dwelt at very great length, which tion in both quarters? Or, is the evil really
appears to us to bear even less on the merits supposed to be less formidable, because it apof the question, than this of the antiquity of pears to be very widely extended, and to be
our constitution.  The abuses and corrup- the fair subject, not only of reproach, but of
tions which Mr. Curwen aimed at correcting, recrimination? The seat of the malady, and
ought not, he says, to be charged to the ac- its extent, may indeed vary our opinion as to
count of ministers or members of Parliament the nature of the remedy which ought to be
alone. The greater part of them both origi- administered; but the knowledge that it has
nate and end with the people themselves,-  pervaded more vital parts than one, certainly
are suggested by their baseness and self-inter- should not lead us to think that no remedy
est, and terminate in their corrupt gain, with whatever is needed,-or to consider the sympvery little voluntary sin, and frequently with toms as too slight to require any particular
very little advantage of any sort to ministers attention.
or candidates. Now, though it is impossible to   But, though we differ thus radically from
forget what Mr. Windham has himself said, Mr. Windham in our estimate of the nature
of the disgraceful abuses of patronage cornm- and magnitude of this evil, we have already
mitted by men in power, for their own indi- said, that we are disposed to concur with him
vidual emolument,* yet we are inclined, upon in disapproving of the measures which have
the whole. to admit the truth of this state- been lately proposed for their correction. The
ment. It is what we have always thought it bill of Mr. Curwen, and all bills that aim only
our duty to point out to the notice of those at repressing the ultimate traffic in seats, by
who can see no guilt but in the envied pos- pains and penalties to be imposed on those
sessors of dignity and power; and forms, in- immediately concerned in the transaction, apdeed, the very basis of the answer we have pears to us to begin at the wrong end,-and
repeatedly attempted to give to those Utopian to aim  at repressing a result which may be
or factious reformers. whose intemperance has regarded as necessary, so long as the causes
done more injury to the cause of reform, than which led to it are allowed to subsist in unall the sophistry and all the corruption of their diminished vigour. It is like trying to save a
opponents. But, thoughwe admit the premises valley from being flooded, by building a palof Mr. Windham's argument, we must utterly try dam across the gathered torrents that flow
deny his conclusions. When we admit, that into it. The only effect is, that they will ula part of the people is venal and corrupt, as timately make their way, by a more destrucwell as its rulers, we really cannot see that tive channel, to worse devastation. The true
we admit any thing in defence, or even in policy is to drain the feeding rills at their
palliation, of venality and corruption:-Nor fountains, or to provide another vent for the
can we imagine, how that melancholy and stream, before it reaches the declivity by
most humiliating fact, can help in the least to which the flat is commanded. While the
make out, that corruption is not an immoral spirit of corruption is unchecked, and even
and pernicious practice;-not a malum in se, fostered in the bosom of the country, the inas Mr. Windham has been pleased to assert, terdiction of the common market will only
nor even a practice which it would be just throw the trade into the hands of the more
and expedient, if it were practicable, to re- profligate and daring,-or give a monopoly to
press and abolish! The only just inference the privileged and protected dealings of Adfrom the fact is, that ministers and members ministration; and the evil will in both ways
of Parliament are not the only guilty persons be aggravated, instead of being relieved.
in the traffic; —and that all remedies will be   We cannot now stop to point out the actual
inefficient, which are not capable of being ap- evils to which this corruption gives rise; or
plied through the whole range of the malady. even to dwell on the means by which we
It may be a very good retort from the gentle- think it might be made more difficult: though
among these we conceive the most efficacious
* "With respect to the abuse of patronage, one would obviously be to multiply the numbers,
of those by which the interests of countries do, in and, in some cases, to raise the qualification
reality, most suffer, I perfectly agree, that it is like- of voters-to take away the right of election
wise one, of which the government, properly so from decayed, inconsiderable, and rotten bocalled, that is to say, persons in the highest offices, rouohs; and to bestow it on large towns posare as likely to be guilty, and from their opportu-'
nities, more likely to be guilty, than any others, sessing various and divided wealth. But,
And nothing, in point of fact, can exceed the greedi- though the increased number of voters will
ness, the selfishness, the insatiable voracity, the make it more difficult to bribe them, and their
profligate disregard of all claims from merit or ser- greater opulence render them less liable to be
vices, that we often see in persons in high official bribed; still, we confess that the chief benefit
stations, when providing for themselves, their re- which we expect from any provisions of this
lations or dependants. I am as little disposed as any sort is the securit
one to defend them in this conduct. Let it be repro- sort, is the  security which we think they will
bated in terms as harsh as any one pleases, and afford for the improvement, maintenance, and
lxuch more so thanit commonly is."-Speech, p. 28. propagation of a Free Spirit among the peaple




WINDHAM'S SPEECH.                                   lib
-a f eling of political right, and of individual Government, and the wealth employed to obinterest among so great a number of persons  tain political influence, have increased very
as will make it not only. discreditable, but un- greatly within the last fifty years; and consists
safe, to invade their liberties, or trespass upon almost entirely in the assertion, that this intheir rights. It is never to be forgotten, that crease, great as it undoubtedly is, yet has not
the great and ultimate barrier against oppres- kept pace with the general increase which has
sion, and arbitrary power, must always be taken place, in the same period, in the wealth,
raised on public opinion-and on opinion, so weight, and influence of the people; so that,
valued and so asserted, as to point resolutely in point of fact, the power of the Crown and Bo
to resistance, if it be permanently insulted, or rough proprietors, although absolutely greater,
openly set at defiance. In order to have this is proportionally less than it was at the compublic opinion, however, either sufficiently mencement of the present reign; and ought
strong, or sufficiently enlightened, to afford  to be augmented, rather than diminished, if
such a security, it is quite necessary that a our object be to preserve the ancient balance
very large body of the people be taught to set of the constitution! We must do Mr. Winda value upon the rights which it is qualified to ham the justice to say, that he does not make
protect,-that their reason, their moral prin- much use of this argument: but it forms the
ciples, their'pride, and habitual feelings, grand reserve of Mr. Rose's battle; and, we
should all be engaged on the side of their po- think, is more frequently and triumphantly
litical independence, —that their attention  brought forward than any other, by those who
should be frequently directed to their rights now affect to justify abuses by argumentation.
and their duties, as citizens of a free state,-   The first answer we make to it, consists in
and their eyes, ears, hearts, and affections fa- denying the fact upon which it proceeds; at
miliarized with the spectacles, and themes, least in the sense in which it must be asserted,
and occasions, that remind them  of those in order to afford any shadow of colour to the
rights and duties. In a commercial country conclusion. There is, undoubtedly, far more
like England, the pursuit of wealth, or of per- wealth in the country than there was fifty
sonal comfort, is apt to engross the whole care years ago; but there is not more independence.
of the body of the people; and, if property be There are not more men whose incomes extolerably secured by law, and a vigilant. police ceed what they conceive to be their necessary
repress actual outrage and disorder, they are expenditure; —not nearly so many who conlikely enough to fall into a general forgetful- sider themselves as nearly rich enough, and
ness of their political rights; and even to re- who would therefore look on themselves as
gard as burdensome those political functions. without apology for doing any thing against
without the due exercise of which the whole their duty or their opinions, for the sake of
frame of our liberties would soon dissolve, and profit to themselves: on the contrary, it is nofall to pieces. It is of infinite and incalcula- torious, and not to be disputed, that our luxury,
ble importance, therefore, to spread, as widely and habits of expense, have increased conas possible, among the people, the feelings siderably faster than the riches by which then
and the love of their political blessings-to should be supported-that men, in general
exercise them  unceasingly in the evolutions have now far less to spare than they had when
of a free constitution-and to train them to their incomes were smaller-and that if ouI
those sentiments of pride, and jealousy, and condition may, in one sense, be said to be a
self-esteem, which arise naturally from their condition of opulence, it is, still more indisexperience of their own value and importance putably, a condition of needy opulence. It is
in the great order of society, and upon which  perfectly plain, however, that it is not the abalone the fabric of a free government can solute amount of wealth existing in a nation,
ever be safely erected.                     that can ever contribute to render it politically
We indicate all these things very briefly; independent of patronage, or intractable to the
both because we cannot now afford room for persuasive voice of a munificent and discerna more full exposition of them, and because it ing ruler, but the general state of content and
is not our intention to exhaust this great sub- satisfaction which results from its wealth being
ject on the present occasion, but rather to proportioned to its occasions of expense. It
place before our readers a few of the leading neither is, accordingly, nor ever was, among
principles upon which we shall think it our the poor, but among the expensive and exduty to expatiate at other opportunities. We travagant, that corruption looks for her surest
calnot, however, bring even these preliminary and most profitable game; nor can her influand miscellaneous observations to a close, ence ever be anywhere so great, as in a counwithout taking some notice of a topic which try where almost all those to whom she can
seems, at present, peculiarly in favour with think it important to address herself, are
the reasoning enemies of reform; and to which straitened for money, and eager for preferment
we cannot reply, without developing, in a -dissatisfied with their condition as to fortune
more striking manner than we have yet done, -and, whatever may be the amount of their
the nature of our apprehensions from the in- possessions, practically needy, and impatient
fluence of the Crown. and the holders of large of their embarrassments.  This is the case
properties, and of our expectations of good with the greater part even of those who acfrom the increased spirit and intelligence of tually possess the riches for which this court
the people.                                 try is so distinguished.  But the effect of their
The argument to which we allude, proceeds prosperity has been, to draw a tar greater pro.
ipon the concession, that the patronage of portion of the people within the sphere of




500                            GENERAL POLITICS.
selfish ambition-to diffuse those habits of jealous of the honours and emoluments it en
expense which give corruption her chief hold joys or distributes, and grudge the expense
and purchase, among multitudes who are and submission which it requires, under an
spectators only of the splendour in which apprehension, that the good it accomplishes
they cannot participate, and are infected with is not worth so great a sacrifice. And, thirdly
the cravings and aspirations of the objects of and finally, those who may be. counted for
their envy, even before they come to be placed nothing in all political arrangements —who
in their circumstances. Such needy adven- are ignorant, indifferent, and quiescent-who
turers are constantly generated by the rapid submit to all things without grumbling or
progress of wealth and luxury; and are sure satisfaction-and are contented to consider all
to seek and court that corruption which is existing institutions as a part of the order of
obliged to seek and court, though with too nature to which it is their duty to accommogreat a probability of success, those whose date themselves.
condition they miscalculate, and labour to at-  In rude and early ages, this last division
tain. Such a state of things, therefore. is far includes by far the greater part of the people:
more favourable to the exercise of the cor- but, as society advances, and intellect begins
rupt influence of government and wealthy to develope itself, a greater and a greater proambitibn, than a state of greater poverty and portion is withdrawn from it, and joined to
moderation; and the same limited means of the two other divisions. These drafts, howseduction will go infinitely farther among a ever, are not made indiscriminately, or in
people in the one situation than in the other. equal numbers. to the two remaining orders;
The same temptations that were repelled by but tend to throw a preponderating weight,
the simple poverty of Fabricius, would, in all either into the scale of the government, or
probability, have bought half the golden sa- into that of its opponents, according to the
traps of the Persian monarch, or swayed the character of that government, and the nature
counsels of wealthy and venal Rome, in the of the circumstances by which they have
splendid days of Catiline and Caesar.     been roused from their neutrality. The difThis, therefore, is our first answer; and it fusion of knowledge, the improvements of
is so complete, we think, as not to require any education, and the gradual descent and exother for the mere purpose of confutation. But pansion of those maxims of individual or pothe argument is founded upon so strange and litical wisdom  that are successively estabso dangerous a misapprehension of the true lished by reflection and experience, necessastate of the case, that we think it our duty to rily raise up more and more of the mass of
unfold the whole fallacy upon which it pro- the population from that state of brutish acceeds; and to show what very opposite con- quiescence and incurious ignorance in which
sequences are really to be drawn from the they originally slumbered.  They begin to
circumstances that have been so imperfectly feel their relation to the government under
conceived, or so perversely viewed, by those which they live; and, guided by those feelwho contend for increasing the patronage of ings, and the analogies of their private inthe Government as a balance to the increasing terests and affections, they begin to form, or
consequence of the People.                to borrow, Opinions upon the merit or demerit
There is a foundation, in fact: for some part of the institutions and administration, to the
of this proposition; but a foundation that has effects of which they are subjected; and to
been strangely misunderstood by those who conceive Sentiments either hostile or friendly
have sought to build upon it so revolting a to such institutions and administration. If
conclusion. The people has increased in con- the government be mild and equitable-if
sequence, in power, and in political impor- its undertakings are prosperous, its impositance. Over all Europe, we verily believe, tions easy, and its patronage just and imparthat they are everywhere growing too strong tial-the greater part of those who are thus
for their governments; and that, if these gov- successively awakened into a state of political
ernmentsare to be preserved, some measures capacity will be enrolled among its supportmustbe taken to accommodate them to this ers; and strengthen it against the factious,
great change in the condition and interior ambitious, and disappointed persons, who
structure of society.  But this increase of alone will be found in opposition to it. But
consequence is not owing to their having if, on the other hand, this disclosure of intelgrown richer; and still less is it to be provi- lectual and political sensibility occur at a peded against, by increasing the means of cor- riod when the government is capricious or
ruption in the hands of their rulers. This re- oppressive-when its plans are disastrousquires, and really deserves, a little more expla- its exactions burdensome —its tone repulsive
nation.                                   -and its distribution of favours most corrupt
All political societies may be considered as and unjust — it will infallibly happen, that
divided into three great classes or orders. In the greater part of those who are thus called
the first place, the governors, or those who into political existence, will take part against
are employed, or hope to be employed by the it, and be disposed to exert themselves for its
governors,-and who therefore either have, or correction, or utter subversion.
expect to have, profit or advantage of some   The last supposition, we think, is that which
sort from the government, or from subordinate has been realised in the history of Europe fol
patrons. In the second place, those who are the last thirty years: and when we say that
m opposition to the government, who feel the the people has.almost every where grown too
burdens and restraints which it imposes, are strong for their rulers, we mean only te say,




WINDHAM'S SPEECH.                                 601
that, in that period, there has been a prodi- not have suggested itself, even to the persons.
Pious development in the understanding and by whom it has been so triumphantly recom
intelligence of the great mass of the popula- mended, unless it had been palliated by some
tion- and that this makes them much less colourof' plausibility: And their error (which
willng than formerly to submit to the folly really does not seem very unnatural for men
and corruption of most of their ancient gov- of their description) seems to have consisted
ernments.  The old instinctive feelings of merely in supposing that all those who were
loyalty and implicit obedience, have pretty discontented in the country, were disappointed
generally given way to shrewd calculations candidates for place and profit; and that the
as to their own interests, their own powers, whole clamour which had been raised against
and the rights which arise out of these powers. the misgovernment of the modern world, origiThey see now, pretty quickly, both the weak- nated in a violent desire to participate in the
nesses and the vices of their rulers; and, emoluments of that misgovernment.  Upon
having learned to refer their own sufferings this supposition, it must no doubt be admitted
or privations, with considerable sagacity, to that their remedy was most judiciously detheir blunders and injustice, they begin tacitly vised. All the discontent was among those
to inquire, what right they have to a sove- who *wished to.be bribed-all the clamour
reignty, of which they make so bad a use-  among those who were impatient for preferand how they could protect themselves, if all ment. Increase the patronage of the I:rown
who hate and despise them were to unite to therefore-make more sinecures, mote jobs,
take it from them.  Sentiments of this sort, more nominal and real posts of emolument
we are well assured, have been prevalent and honour, —and you will allay the disconover all the enlightened parts of Europe for tent, and still the clamour, which are now
the last thirty years, and are every day gain-'" frighting our isle from her propriety!"
ing strength and popularity. Kings and nobles,   This, to be sure, is very plausible and ingeand ministers and agents of government, are nious-as well as highly creditable to the
no longer looked upon with veneration and honour of the nation, and the moral experience
awe,-but rather with a mixture of contempt of its contrivers. But the fact, unfortunate,-,
and jealousy.  Their errors and vices are is not as it is here assumed. There are two
canvassed, among all ranks of persons, with sets of persons to be managed and appeased!
extreme freedom and severity. The corrup- and the misfortune is, that what might gratify
tions by which they seek to fortify them- the one would only exasperate the discontents
selves, are regarded with indignation and of the other. The one wants unmerlced honvindictive abhorrence; and the excuses with ours, and unearned emoluments-a further
which they palliate them, with disgust and de- abuse of patronage-a more shameful misaprision. Their deceptionsare almost universally plication of the means of the nation. The
seen through; and their incapacity detected other wants a correction of abuses-an abridgand despised, by an unprecedented portion of ment of patronage-a diminution of the publh.-c
of the whole population which they govern.  burdens-a more just distribution of its trusts,
It is in this sense, as we conceive it, that dignities, and rewards. This last party is still,
the people throughout civilised Europe have we are happy to think, by far the strongest,
grown too strong for their rulers; and that and the most formidable: For it is daily resome alteration in the balance or administra- cruited out of the mass of the population, over
tion of their governments, has become neces- which reason is daily extending her dominion;
sarvfo.q theirpreservation. They have become and depends, for its ultimate success, upon
too strong, - not in wealth - but in intellect, nothing less than the irresistible progress of
activity, and available numbers; and the tran- intelligence-of a true and enlightened sense
quillity of their governments has been endan- of interest-and a feeling of inherent right,
gered; not from their want of pecuniary in- united to undoubted power. It is difficult,
riuence, but from their want of moral respec- then, to doubt of its ultimate triumph; a!,:( it
tability and intellectual vigour.         must appear to be infinitely foolish tL think
Such is the true state of the evil; and the of opposing its progress, by measures which
cure, according to the English opponents of are so obviously calculated to add to its
reform, is to increase the patronage of the strength. By increasing the patronage or inCrown! The remote and original cause of fluence of the Crown, a few more venal
the danger, is the improved intelligence and spirits maybe attracted, by the precarious tie
more perfect intercourse of the people,-a of a dishonest interest, to withstand all atcause which it is not lawful to wish removed, tempts at reform, and to clamour in behalf
and which, at any rate, the proposed remedy of all existing practices and institutions. But,
has no tendency to remove. The immediate for every worthless auxiliary that is thus reand proximate cause, is the abuse of patron- cruited for the defence of establishec abuses
age and the corruptions practised by the gov- is it not evident that there will be a thousand
ernment and their wealthy supporters-:-and new enemies called forth, by the additional
the cure that is seriously recommended, is to abuse exemplified in the new patronage that
increase that corruption! — to add to the weight is created, and the new scene of corruption that
of the burdens under which the people is sink- is exhibited, in exchanging this patronage for
ing,-and to multiply the examples of parti- this dishonourable support — For a nation to
ality, profusion, and profligacy, by which they endeavour to strengthen itself against the
are revolted!                            attempts of reformers by a deliberate augAn absurdity so extravagant, however, could mentation of its corruptions, is not more poliR




602                            GENERAL POLITICS.
tic, than for a spendthrift to think of relieving and venal, while there is still spirit and vilIlne
himself of his debts, by borrowing at usurious enough left. when the measure of provocation
interest to pay what is demanded, and thus is full, to inflict a signal and sainguinary venincreasing the burden which he affects to be geance, and utterly to overthrow the fabric
throwing off.                             which has been defiled by this traffic of iniThe only formidable discontent, in short, quity. And there may be great spirit, arid.hat now subsists in the country, is that of strength, and capacity of heroic resentment in
those who are reasonably discontented; and the a nation, which will yet allow its institutions
only part of the people whose growing strength to be, for a long time, perverted, its legislareally looks menacingly on the government, ture to be polluted, and the baser part of its
is that which has been alienated by what it population to be corrupted, before it be roused
believes to be its corruptions, and enabled, by to that desperate effort, in which its peace and
its own improving intelligence, to unmask its happiness are sure to suffer along with the
deceptions, and to discover the secret of its guilt which brings down the thunder. In such
selfishness and incapacity. The great object an age of the world as the present, however,
of its jealousy, is the enormous influence of it may be looked upon as absolutely certain,
the Crown, and the monstrous abuses of pa- that if the guilt be persisted in, the vengeance
tronage to which that influence gives occasion. will follow  and that all reasonable discontent
It is, therefore, of all infatuations, the wildest will accumulate and gain strength, as reason
and most desperate, to hold out that the pro- and experience advance; till, at the last, it
gress of this discontent makes it proper to works its own reparation, and sweeps the ofgive the Crown more influence, and that it fence from the earth, with the force and the
can only be effectually conciliated, by putting fury of a whirlwind.
more patronage in the way of abuse!        In such a view of the moral destiny of na.
In stating the evils and dangers of corrup- tions, there is something elevating as well as
tion and profligacy in a government, we must terrible. Yet, the terror preponderates, for
always keep it in view, that such a system  those who are to witness the catastrophe: and
can never be universally palatable, even among all reason. as well as all humanity, urges us
the basest and most depraved people of which to use every effort to avoid the crisis and the
history has preserved any memorial. If this shock, by a timely reformation, and an earnest
were otherwise indeed-if a whole nation and sincere attempt to conciliate the hostile
were utterly and entirely venal and corrupt, elements of our society, by mutual concession
and each willing to wait his time of dishonour- and indulgence.-It is for this reason, chiefly,
able promotion, things might go on with suffi- that we feel such extreme solicitude for a
cient smoothness at least; and as such a na- legislative reform of our system of representation would not be worth mending, on the one tion,-in some degree as a pledge of the wilhand, so there would, in fact, be much less lingness of the government to admit of reform
need, on the other, for that untoward opera- where it is requisite; but chiefly, no doubt,
tion. The supposition, however, is obviously as in itself most likely to stay the flood of veimpossible; and, in such a country at least as nality and corruption, —to reclaim a part of
England, it may perhaps be truly stated, as those who had begun to yield to its seducthe most alarming consequence of corruption, tions,-and to reconcile those to the governthat, if allowed to go on without any effectual ment and constitution of their country, who
check, it will infallibly generate such a spirit had begun to look upon it with a mingled
of discontent, as necessarily to bring on some feeling of contempt, hostility, and despair.
dreadful convulsion, and overturn the very That such a reform as we have contemplated
foundations of the constitution. It is thus would go far to produce those happy effects,
fraught with a double evil to a country enjoy- we think must appear evident to all who agree
ing a free government. In the first place, it with us as to the nature and origin of the evils
gradually corrodes and destroys much that is from which we suffer, and the dangers to
truly valuable in its constitution; and, secondly, which we are exposed. One of its immediate,
it insures its ultimate subversion by the tre- and therefore chief advantages, however, will
mendous crash of an insurrection or revolution. consist in its relieving and abating the spirit
It first makes the government oppressive and of discontent which is generated by the specintolerable; and then it oversets it altogether tacle of our present condition; both by giving
by a necessary, but dreadful calamity.    it scope and vent. and by the vast facilities it
These two evils may appear to be opposite must afford to future labours of regeneration.
to each other: and it is certain, that, though By the extension of the elective franchise,
brought on by the same course of conduct, many of those who are most hostile to the exthey cannot be inflicted by the same set of isting system, because, }nder it, they are expersons. Those who are the slaves and the cluded from all share of power or politica'
ministers of corruption, assuredly are not those importance, will have a part assigned them,
who are minded to crush it, with a visiting both more safe, more honourable, and more
vengeance, under the ruins of the social order; active, thani merely murmuring, or meditating
and it is in forgetting that there are two sets vengeance against such a scheme of exclusion.
of persons to be conciliated in all such ques- The influence of such men will be usefully
tions, that the portentous fallacy which we exerted in exciting a popular spirit, and in
are considering mainly consists. The govern- exposing the base and dishonest practices that
ment may be very corrupt, and a very con- may still interfere with the freedom of elecsiderable part of the nation may be debased tion.  By some alteration in the bort.gh




WINDHAM'S SPEECH.                                 6W
qualifi ations; the body of electors in general course which is pointed out by these new cirwill be invested with a more respectable char- cumstances in our situation, appears to us no
acter, and feel a greater jealousy of every less obvious,. than it is safe and promising.thing that may tend to degrade or dishonour If the people have risen into greater consethem: but, above all, a rigid system of econo- quence, let them have greater power. If a
my, and a farther exclusion of placemen from  greater proportion of our population be now
the legislature, by cutting off a great part of capable and desirous of exercising the functhe minister:s most profitable harvest of cor- tions of free citizens, let a greater number
ruption, will force his party also to have re- be admitted to the exercise of these fuhccourse to nmore honourable means of popu- tions. If the quantity of mind and of will,
laritvy and to appeal to principles that must that must now be represented in our legislaultimately promote the cause of independ- ture, be prodigiously increased since the frame
ence.                                     of that legislature was adjusted, let its basis
By the introduction, in short, of a system  be widened, so as to rest on all that intellect
of reform, even more moderate and cautious and will. If there be a new power and energy
than that which we have ventured to indicate, generated in the nation, for the due applicawe think that a wholesome and legitimate play tion of which, there is no contrivance in the
will be given tb those principles of opposition original plan of the constitution, let it flow
to corruption. monopoly, and abuse. which, by into those channels through which all similar
the denial of all reform, are in danger of being powers were ordained to act by the principles
fomented into a decided spirit of hostility to of that plan. The power itself you can neithe government and the institutions of the ther repress nor annihilate; and, if it be not
country.'Instead of brooding, in sullen and assimilated to the system of the constitution,
helpless silence, over the vices and errors you seem to be aware that it will ultimately
which are ripening into intolerable evil, and overwhelm and destroy it. To set up against
seeing; with a stern and vindictive joy, wrong it the power of influence and corruption, is to
accumulated to wrong, and corruption heaped set up that by which its strength is recruited,
up to corruption, the Spirit of reform will be and its safe application rendered infinitely
continually interfering, with active and suc- more difficult: it is to defend your establishcessful zeal, to correct, restrain, and deter. ments, by loading them with a weight which
Instead of being the avenger of our murdered of itself makes them  totter under under its
liberties, it will be their living protector; and pressure, and, at the same time, affords a safe
the censor, not the executioner, of the consti- and inviting approach to the assailant.
tution. It will not descend, only at long in-   In our own case, too, nothing fortunately is
tervals, like the Avatar of the Indian mytho- easier, than to reduce this growing power of
logy, to expiate, with terrible vengeance, a the people within the legitimate bounds and
series of consummated crimes; but, like the cantonments of the constitution; and nothing
Providence of a better faith, will keep watch more obvious, than that, when so legalised
perpetually over the actions of corrigible men, and provided for, it can tend only to the exaland bring them back from their aberrations, tation and improvement of our condition, and
by merciful chastisement, timely admonition, must add strength and stability to the Throne,
and the blessed experience of purer principles as well as to the other branches of the legisof action.                                lature.  It seems a straige doctrine, to be
Such, according to our conviction of the held by any one in this land, and, above all,
fact, is the true state of the case as to the by the chief votaries and advocates of royal
increasing weight and consequence of the poswer, that its legal security consists in its
people; and such the nature of the policy means of corruption, or can be endangered by
which we think this change in the structure the utmost freedom  and intelligence in the
of our society calls upon us to adopt. The body of the people, and the utmost purity and
people, ars grown strong, in intellect, reso- popularity of our elections. Under an arbilution, arn  mutual reliance, - quick in the trary government, where the powers of the
detection of the abuses by which they are monarch are confessedly unjust and oppreswronged, —and confident in the powers by sive, and are claimed, and openly asserted,
which they may be compelled ultimately to not as the instruments of public benefit, but
seek their redress. Against this strength, it as the means of individual gratification, such
is something more wild than madness, and a jealousy of popular independence is suffimore contemptible than folly, to think of ar- ciently intelligible: but, in a government like
raying an additional phalanx of abuses, and ours, where all the powers of the Crown are
drawing out a wider range of corruptions -  universally acknowledged to exist for the good
In that contest, the issue cannot be doubtful, of the people, it is evidently quite extravagant
nor the eonflict long; and, deplorable as the to fear, that any increase of union and intellivictory will be, which is gained over order, gence — any growing love of freedom  and
as well as over guilt, the blame will rest hea- justice in the people - should endanger, or
viest upon those whose offences first provoked, should fail to confirm, all those powers and
what may very probably turn out a sanguinary prerogatives.
and an unjustifiable vengeance.             We have not left ourselves room to enter
The conclusions, then, which we would more at large into this interesting question;
draw from the facts that have been relied on but we feel perfectly assured, and ready to
by the enemies of reform, are indeed of a maintain, that, as the institution of a limited,
very opposite description from theirs: and the hereditary monarchy, must always appear the




604                             GENERAL POLITICS.
wisest and most reasonable of all human in- in short, who reigns by the fair exercise ox
stitutions, and that to which increasing reflec- I his prerogative. can have no enemies among
tion and experience will infallibly attach men the lovers of regulated freedom; and the hosmore and more as the world advances; so, the tility of such men-by far the most terrible
prerogatives of such a monarch will always of all internal hostility-can only be directed
be safer and more inviolate, the more the towards him, when his throne is enveloped,
sentiment of liberty, and the love of their by treacherous advisers, with the hosts of
political rights, is diffused andt encouraged  corruption; and disguised, for their ends, in
among his people. A legitimate sovereign, the borrowed colours of tyranny.
(  anunar, 1810.)
Short Remarks on the State of Parties at the Close of the Year 1809. 8vo. pp. 30.
London: 1809.*
THE parties of which we now wish to speak, both parties, and looking on both with too visi.
are not the parties in the Cabinet, —nor even ble a resentment, aversion, and alarm. The
the parties in Parliament, but the Parties in two great divisions, in the mean time, are
the Nation;-that nation, whose opinions and daily provoking each other to greater excesses,
whose spirit ought to admonish and control and recruiting their hostile ranks, as they adboth Cabinet and Parliament, but which now  vance, from the diminishing mass of the calm
seems to us to be itself breaking rapidly into and the neutral.  Every hour the rising tides
two furious and irreconcileable parties; by are eating away the narrow  isthmus upon
whose collision, if it be not prevented, our which the adherents of the Constitution now
constitution and independence must be ulti- appear to be stationed; and every hour it bemately destroyed. We have said before, that comes more necessary for them  to oppose
the root of all our misfortunes was in the state some barrier to their encroachments.
of the People, and not in the constitution of   If the two extreme parties are once perthe legislature; and the more we see and mitted to shock together in open conflict, there
reflect, the more we are satisfied of this truth. is an end to the freedom, and almost to the
It is in vain to cleanse the conduits and reser- existence of the nation,-whatever be the revoirs, if the fountain itself be tainted and sult, —although that is not doubtful: And the
impure. If the body of the people be infatu- only human means of preventing a consumated, or corrupt or depraved. it is vain to talk mation to which things seem  so obviously
of improving their representation.          tending, is for the remaining friends of the.
The dangers, and the corruptions, and the constitution to unbend from  their cold and
prodigies of the times, have very nearly put repulsive neutrality, and to join themselves to
an end to all neutrality and moderation in the more respectable members of the party
politics; and the great body of tne nation ap- to which they have the greatest affinity; and
pears to us to be divided into two violent and thus, by the weight of their character, and
most pernicious factions;-the courtiers, who the force of their talents, to temper its violence
are almost for arbitrary power,-and the de- and moderate its excesses, till it can be guided
mocrats who are almost for revolution and in safety to the defence. and not to the derepublicanism. Between these stand a small, struction, of our liberties. In the present
but most respectable band-the friends of crisis, we have no hesitation in saying, that it
liberty and of order-the Old Constitutional is to the popular side that the friends of the
Whigs of England-with the best talents and constitution must turn themselves; and that,
the best intentions, but without present power if the Whig leaders do not first conciliate, and
or popularity,-calumniated and suspected by then restrain the people,-if they do not save
-* This, Ifearistoo mu. h in the styleofasagethem from the leaders they are already choosan* his,  I fear, is too much in the style of a sage ing in their own body, and become themselves
and solemn Rebuke to the madness of contending  their leaders, by becoming  their patros, and
factions. Yet it is not all rhetorical or assuming:  leaders, by becoming their patrons, and
And the observations on the vast importance and their cordial, though authoritative, advisers;
high and difficult duties of a middle party, ill all they will in no long time sweep away the
great national contentions, seem to me as univer- Constitution itself, the Monarchy of Engiand,
sally true, and as applicable to the present position and the Whig aristrocracy, by which that
of our affairs, as most of the other things I have Monarchy is controlled and confirmed and
ventured, for this reason, now to produce. It may exalted above all other forms of polity.
be right to mention, that it was written at a time exalted above all other forms of polity.
when the recent failure of that wretched expedition    This is the sum of our doctrine; though we
to Walcheren, and certain antipopular declarations are aware that, to most readers, it will rein Parliament, had excited a deeper feeling of dis- quire more development than we can now
content in the country, and a greater apprehensionafford, and be exposed to more objections than
for its consequences, than had been witnessed since we have left ourselves room  to answer. To
the first great panic and excitement of the French
revolution. The spirit of such a time may, per- many, we are sensible, our fears will appear
haps, be detected in some of the following pages.  altogether chimerical and fantastic. We have




STATE OF PARTIES, 1809.                           609
ad4lays.lad these two parties, it will be said-  and gradual change in the condition of Euroalways some for carrying things with a high pean society, by which the lower and mid.
hand against the people-,and some for sub- dling orders have been insensibly raised into
jecting every thing to their nod; but the con- greater importance than they enjoyed when
flict has hitherto afforded nothing more than their place in the political scale was originally
a wholesome and invigorating exercise; and settled; and attempted to show in what way
the constitution, so far from being endangered the revolution in France, and the revolutionary
by it, has hitherto been found to flourish, in movements of other countries, might be re.
proportion as it became more animated. Why, ferred partly to the progress, and partly to the
then, should we anticipate such tragical effects neglect of that great movement. We cannot
from its continuance?                   stop now to resume any part of that general
Now, to this, and to all such questions, we discussion; but shall merely observe, that the
must answer, that we can conceive them to events of the last twenty years are of themproceed only from that fatal ignorance or in- selves sufficient to account for the state to
attention to the Signs of the Times, which which this country has been reduced, and for
has been the cause of so many of our errors the increased number and increased acrimony
and misfortunes. It is quite true, that there of the parties that divide it.
have always been in this country persons who   The success of a plebeian insurrection-the
leaned towards arbitrary power, and persons splendid situations to which low-bred men
who leaned towards toopopular a government. have been exalted, in consequence of that
In all mixed governments, there must be such success-the comparative weakness and inmen, and such parties: some will admire the efficiency of the sovereigns and nobles who
monarchical, and some the democratical part opposed it, and the contempt and ridicule
of the constitution; and, speaking very gener- which has been thrown by the victors upon
ally, the rich, and the timid, and the indolent, their order, have all tended to excite and agas well as the base and the servile, will have gravate the bad principles that lead men to
a natural tendency to the one side; and the despise existing authorities, and to give into
poor, the enthusiastic, and enterprising as wild and extravagant schemes of innovation.
well as the envious and the discontented, will On the other hand, the long-continued ill sucbe inclined to range themselves on the other. cess of our anti-jacobin councils —the sickenThese things have been always; and always ing uniformity of our boastings and failuresmust be. They have been hitherto, too. with- the gross and palpable mismanagement of our
out mischief or hazard; and might be fairly government-the  growing and intolerable
considered as symptoms at least, if not as burthen of our taxes-and, abovri all, the imcauses, of the soundness and vigour of our minent and tremendous peril iinto which the
political organisation. But this has been the whole nation has been brought, have made a
case, only because the bulk of the nation has powerful appeal to the good principles that
hitherto, or till very lately, belonged to no lead men into similar feelings; and roused
party at all. Factions existed only among a those who were lately unwilling to disturb
small number of irritable and ambitious indi- themselves with political considerations, to cry
viduals; and, for want of partizans, necessa- out in vast numbers for reformation and rerily vented themselves in a few speeches and dress. The number of those who have been
pamphlets-in an election riot, or a treasury startled out of their neutrality by such feelprosecution. The partizans of Mr. Wilkes, ings, very greatly exceeds, we believe, that
and the partizans of Lord Bute, formed but a of those who have been tempted from it by
very inconsiderable part of the population. If the stirringrs of an irregular ambition: But
they had divided the whole nation among both are alike disposed to look with jealousy
them, the little breaches of the peade and of upon the advocates of power and prerogativethe law at Westminster, would have been to suspect falsehood and corruption in every
changed into civil war and mutual proscrip- thing that is not clearly explained-to resent
tions; and the constitution of the country every appearance of haughtiness or reservemight have perished in the conflict. In those to listen with eager credulity to every tale of
times, therefore, the advocates of arbitrary detraction against public characters-and to
power and of popular licence were restrained, believe with implicit rashness whatever is
not merely by the constitutional principles of said of the advantages of popular control.
so many men of weight and authority, but by   Such are the natural and original causes of
the absolute neutrality and indifference of the the increase of that popular discontent which
great body of the people. They fought like has of late assumed so formidable an aspect,
champions in a ring of impartial spectators; and is, in fact, far more widely spread and
and the multitude who looked on, and thought more deeply rooted in the nation, than the
it sport, had little other interest than to see sanguine and contemptuous will believe. The
that each had fair play.                 enumeration, however, would be quite inNow, however, the case is lamentably dif- complete, if we were not to add, that it has
ferent; and it will not be difficult, we think, been prodigiously helped by the contempt,
to point out the causes which have spread and aversion, and defiance, which has been
abroad this spirit of contention, and changed so loudly and unwisely expressed by the op.
so great a proportion of those calm spectators posite party. Instead of endeavouring to avoid
into fierce and impetuous combatants. We the occasions of dissatisfaction, and to soothe
have formerly ehdeavoured, on more than one and conciliate those whom it could never be
occasion, to explain the nature of that great creditable to have for enemies, it has been




606                           GENERAL POLITICS.
but too often the policy of the advocates for in power, and show themselves;-but for this
strong government to exasperate them by very reason, their real force is probably a great
menaces and abuse; —to defend, with inso- deal less than it appears to be. Many wear
lence, every thing that was attacked, how- their livery, out of necessity or convenience
ever obviously indefensible; —and to insult whose hearts are with their adversaries; and
and defy their opponents by a needless osten- many clamour loudly in their cause, who
tation of their own present power, and their would clamour more loudly against them, the
resolution to use it in support of their most moment they thought that cause was going
offensive and unjustifiable measures. This back in the world. The democratic party, on
unfortunate tone, which was first adopted in the other hand, is scattered, and obscurely
the time of Mr. Pitt, has been pretty well visible. It can hardly be for the immediate
maintained by most of his successors; and interest of any one to acknowledge it; and
has done more, we are persuaded, to revolt scarcely any one is, as yet, proud of its badge
and alienate the hearts of independent and or denomination. It lurks, however, in pribrave men, than all the errors and incon- vate dwellings,-it gathers strength at homely
sistencies of which they have been guilty.   firesides,-it is confirmed in conferences of
In running thus rapidly over the causes friends, —it breaks out in pamphlets and jourwhich have raised the pretensions and aggra- nals of every description,-and shows its head
vated the discontents of the People, we have, now and then in the more tumultuous assemin fact, stated also, the sources of the inpreased blies of populous cities. In the metropolis
acrimony and pretensions of the advocates for especially, where the concentration of numpower. The same spectacle of popular excess bers gives them confidence and importance,
and popular triumph which excited the dan- it exhibits itself very nearly, though not altogerous passions of the turbulent and daring, gether, in its actual force. How that force
in the way of Sympathy, struck a correspond- now stands in comparison with what is oping alarm into the breasts of the timid and posed to it, it would not perhaps be very easy
prosperous,-and excited a furious Antipathy to calculate. Taking the whole nation over
in those of the proud and domineering. As head) we should conjecture, that. as things
fear and hatred lead equally to severity, and now are, they would be pretty equally balare neither of them very far-sighted in their anced; but, if any great calamity should give
councils, they naturally attempted to bear a shock to the stability of government, or call
down this rising spirit by menaces and abuse. imperiously for more vigorous councils, we are
All hot-headed and shallow-headed persons convinced that the partizans of popular govof rank, with their parasites and dependants ernment would be found to outnumber their
-and indeed almost all rich persons, of quiet opponents in the proportion of three to two.
tempers and weak intellects, started up into When the one party, indeed, had failed so fafurious anti-jacobins; and took at once a most tally, it must seem to be a natural resource to
violent part in those political contentions, as make a trial of the other; and, if civil war or
to which they had, in former times, been conr- foreign conquest should really fall on us, it
fessedly ignorant and indifferent. When this would be a movement almost of instinctive
tone was.once given, from passion and mis- wisdom, to displace and to punish those under
taken principle among the actual possessors whose direction they had been brought on.
of power, it was readily taken up by mere Upon any such serious alarm, too, all the veservile venality. The vast multiplication of nal and unprincipled adherents of the prerogoffices and occupations in the gift of the gov- ative would inevitably desert their colours,
ernment, and the enormous patronage and and go over to the enemy,-while the Throne
expectancy, of which it has recently become would be left to be defended only by its regular
the centre, has drawn a still greater number, forces and its immediate dependants,-reinand of baser natures, out of the political neu- forced by a few bands of devoted Tories, mintrality in which they would otherwise have gled with some generous, but downcast spirits,
remained, and led them  to counterfeit, for under the banner of the Whig aristocracy.
hire, that unfortunate violence which neces-   But, without pretending to settle the nusarily produces a corresponding violence in merical or relative force of the two opposing
its objects.                             parties, we wish only to press it upon our
Thus has the nation been set on fire at the readers, that they are both so strong and so
four corners! and thus has an incredible and numerous, as to render it quite impossible that
most alarming share of its population been the one should now crush or overcome the
separated into two hostile and irritated parties, other, without a ruinous contention; and that
neither of which can now subdue the other they are so exasperated, and so sanguine and
without a civil war; and the triumph of either presumptuous, that they will push forward to
of which would be equally fatal to the consti- such a contention in no long time, unless they
tution.                                  be separated or appeased by some powerful
The force and extent of these parties is but interference. That the number of the demoimperfectly known, we believe, even to those crats is vast, and is daily increasing with
who have been respectively most active in ar- visible and dangerous rapidity, any man may
raying them; and the extent of the adverse satisfy himself, by the common and obvious
party is rarely ever suspected by those who means of information. It is a fact which he
are zealously opposed to it. There must be may read legibly in the prodigious sale, and
least error, however, in the estimate of the still more prodigious circulation, of Cobbett's
partizans of arbitrary government. They are Register, and other weekly papers of the same




STATE OF PARTIES, 1809.                             607
general description: He may learn it in every the people go on a little longer to excite in
street of all the manufacturing and populous them a contempt and distrust of all public
towns in the heart of the country; and may, and characters, and of all institutions of authority,
must hear it most audibly, in the public and while many among our public men go on to
private talk of the citizens of the metropolis. justify. by their conduct, that contempt and
All these afford direct and palpable proofs of distrust; —if the people are taught by all who
the actual increase of this formidable party. now take the trouble to win their confidence,
But no man, who understands any thing of that Parliament is a mere assemblage of unhuman nature, or knows any thing of our re- principled place-hunters, and that ins and outs
cent history, can need direct evidence to con- are equally determined to defend corruption
vince him, that it must have experienced a and peculation; and if Parliament continues
prodigious increase. In a country where more to busy itself with personalities, — to decline
than a million of men take some interest in the investigation of corruptions —and to appolitics, and are daily accustomed (right or prove, by its votes, what no sane man in the
wrong) to refer the blessings or the evils of kingdom can consider as admitting of apolotheir condition to the conduct of their rulers, gy; —if those to whom their natural leaders
is it possible to conceive, that a third part at have given up the guidance of the ip.ople,
least of every Mnan's income should be taken shall continue to.tell them  that they may
from him inthe shape of taxes, —and that,after easily be relieved of half their taxes, and
twenty years of boastful hostility, we should placed in a situation of triumphant security,
be left without a single ally, and in imminent while the government continues to multiply
hazard of being invaded by a revolutionary its impositions, and to waste their blood and
foe, without producing a very general feeling treasure in expeditions which make us hateof disaffection and discontent, and spreading ful and ridiculous in the eyes of many of our
through the body of the nation, not only a neighbours, while they bring the dangernearer
great disposition to despise and distrust their to our own door; —if, finally, the people are a
governors, but to judge unfavourably of the little more persuaded that, without a radical
form of government itself which could admit change in the constitution of the Legislature,
of such gross ignorance or imposition?   they must continue in the condition of slaves
The great increase of the opposite party, to a junto of boroughmongers, while Parliaagain, is but too visible, we are sorry to say, ment rejects with disdain every proposal to
in the votes of Parliament, in the existence of correct the most palpable defects of that conthe present administration, and in the sale stitution;-   Then we say that the wholeandcthe tenor of the treasury journals. But, some days of England are numbered, —that
independent of such proof; this too might have she is gliding to the verge of the most dreadbeen safely inferred from the known circum- ful of all calamities, —and that all the freedom
stances of the times. In a nation. abounding and happiness which we undoubtedly still enwith wealth and loyalty, enamoured of its old joy, and all the morality and intelligence, and
institutions, and originally indebted for its the long habits of sober thinking and kindly
freedom, in a great degree, to the spirit of its affection which adorn and exalt our people,
landed Aristocracy, it was impossible that the will not long protect us from the horrors of a
excesses of a plebeian insurrection should not civil war.
have excited a great aversion to every thing   In such an unhallowed conflict it is scarcely
that had a similar tendency: and in any na- necessary to say that the triumph of either
tion, alas! that had recently multiplied its party would be the ruin of English liberty,
taxes, and increased the patronage of its gov- and of her peace, happiness, and prosperity.
ernment to three times their original extent, Those who have merely lived in our times
it could not but happen, that multitudes would must have seen, and they who have read of
be found to barter their independence for their other times, or reflected on what Man is at
interest  and to exchange the language of all times, must know, independent of that lesfree men for that which was most agreeable to son, how much Chance, and how much Time,
the party upon whose favour they depended. must concur with genius and patriotism, to
If the numbers of the opposed factions, form a good or a stable government. We have
however, be formidable to the peace of the the frame and the materials of such a governcountry, the acrimony of their mutual hostili- ment in the constitution of England; but if we
ty is still more alarming. If the whole na- rend asunder that frame, and scatter these
tion were divided into the followers of Mr. materials-if we "put out the.igr t " of cur
Cobbett and Sir Francis Burdett, and the fol- living polity,
lowers of Mr. John Gifford and Mr. John
"lowers of Mr. John Gifford and Mr. John    We know not where is that Promethean fire,
Bowles, does not every man see that a civil    That may its flame relumine."
war and a revolution would be inevitable?
Now, we say; that the factions into which the   The stability of the English constitution decountry is divided, are not very different from  pends upon its monarchy and aristocracy; and
the followers of Mr. Cobbett and Mr. Gifford; their stability, again. depends very much on
or. at all events, that if they are allowed to the circumstance of their having grown natudefy and provoke each other into new extrava- rally out of the frame and inward structure of
gance and increased hostility, as they have our society-upon their having struck their
been doing lately, we do not see how that roots deep through every stratum of the ponost tremendous of all calamities is to be litical soil. and having been moulded and imavoided. If those who have influence with pressed, during a long course of ages, by the




608                           GENERAL POLITICS.
usages, institutions, habits, and affections of march, and mix withl the ranks of the offend
the community. A popular revolution would ers, that they may be enabled to reclaim ane
overthrow the monarchy and the aristocracy; repress them, and save both them and them
and even if it were not true that revolution selves from a sure and shameful destruction
propagates revolution, as waves gives rise to They have no longer strength tcI overawe o,
waves, till the agitation is stopped by the iron repel either party by a direct and forcible atboundary of despotism, it would still require tack; and must work, therefore, by gentle
ages of anxious discomfort, before we could and conciliatory means, upon that which is
build up again that magnificent fabric, which most dangerous, most flexible, and most capanow requires purification rather than repair; ble of being guided to noble exertions. Like the
or secure that permanency to. our new estab- Sabine women of old, they must throw themlishments, without which they could have no selves between the kindred combatants; and
other good quality.                      stay the fatal feud, by praises and embraces,
Such we humbly conceive to be the course, and dissuasives of kindness and flattery.
and the causes, of the evils which we believe   Even those who do not much love or care
to be impending. It is time now to inquire for the people, are now called upon to pacify
whether there be no remedy. If the whole them, by granting, at least, all that can reasonnation were actually divided into revolution- ably be granted; and not only to redress their
ists and high-monarchy men, we do not see Grievances. but to comply with their Desires,
how they could be prevented from fighting, in so far as they can be complied with, with
and giving us the miserable choice of a des- less hazard than must evidently arise from
potism or a tumultuary democracy. Fortu- disregarding them.
nately, however, this is not the case. There   We do not say, therefore, that a thorough
is a third party in the nation-small, indeed, reconciliation between the Whig royalists
in point of numbers, compared with either of and the great body of the people is desirable
the others-and, for this very reason, low, we merely-but that it is indispensable: since it
fear, in present popularity-but essentially is a dream-a gross solecism and absurdity,
powerful from talents and reputation, and cal- to suppose, that such a party should exist,
culated to become both popular and authori- unless supported by the affections and approtative, by the fairness and the firmness of its bation of the people. The advocates of preprinciples. This is composed of the Whig rogative have the support of prerogative; and
Royalists of England,-men who, without for- they who rule by corruption and the direct
getting that all government is from the peo- agency of wealth, have wealth and the means
ple, and for the people, are satisfied that the of corruption in their hands: —But the friends
rights and liberties of the people are best of national freedom must be recognised by
maintained by a regulated hereditary mon- the nation. If the Whigs are not supported
archy, and a large, open aristocracy; and who by the people, they can have no support;
are as much averse, therefore, from every at- and, therefore, if the people are seduced away
tempt to undermine the throne, or to discredit from them, they must just go after them and
the nobles, as they are indignant at every pro- bring them back: And are no more to be exject to insult or enslave the people. In the cused for leaving them to be corrupted by
better days of the constitution, this party Demagogues, than they would be for leaving
formed almost the whole ordinary opposition, them to be oppressed by tyrants. If a party
and bore no inconsiderable proportion to that is to exist at all, therefore, friendly at once to
of the courtiers. It might be said too, to have the liberties of the people and the integrity
with it, not only the greater part of those who of the monarchy, and holding that liberty is
were jealous of the prerogative, but all that best secured by a monarchical establishment,
great mass of the population which was ap- it is absolutely necessary that it should posparently neutral and indifferent to the issue sess the confidence and attachment of the
of the contest.  The new-sprung factions, people: and if it appear at any time to have
however, have swallowed up almost all this lost it, the first of all its duties, land the necesdisposable body; and have drawn largely sary prelude to the discharge of all the rest,
from the ranks of the old constitutionalists is to regain it, by every effort consistent with
themselves. In consequence of this change probity and honour.
of circumstances, they can no longer act with   Now, it may be true, that the present alieneffect, as a separate party; and are far too ation of the body of the people from the old
weak to make head, at the same time, against constitutional champions of their freedom,
the overbearing influence of the Crown, and originated in the excesses and delusion of the
the rising pretensions of the people. It is nec- people themselves; but it is not less true, that
essary, therefore, that they should now leave the Whig royalists have increased that alienthis attitude of stern and defying mediation; ation by the haughtiness of their deportment
and, if they would escape being crushed -by the marked displeasure with which they
along with the constitution on the collision have disavowed most of the popular proceedof the two hostile bodies, they must identify ings-and the tone of needless and imprudent
themselves cordially with the better part of distrust and reprobation with which they have
one of them, and thus soothe, ennoble, and treated pretensions that were only partly incontrol it, by the infusion of their own spirit, admissible. They have given too much way
and the authority of their own wisdom and to the offence which they naturally received
experience. Like faithful generals, whose from the rudeness and irreverence of the terms
troops have mutinied, they must join the in which their grievances were frequently




STATE OF PARTIES, 1809.                           609 
stated; and have felt too proud an indignation   We, in short, are for the monarchy ard the
when they saw vulgar and turbulent men pre- aristocracy of England, as the only sure supsume to lay their unpurged hands upon the ports of a permanent and regulated freedom:
sacred ark of the constitution. They have But we do not see how either is now to be
disdained too much to be associated with preserved, except by surrounding them with
coarse coadjutors, even in the good work of the affection of the people. The admirers of
resistance and reformation; and have hated arbitrary power, blind to the great lesson
too virulently the demagogues who have in- which all Europe is now holding out to them,
flanmed the people, and despised too heartily have attempted to dispense with this protecthe people who have yielded to so gross a de- tion; and the demagogues have taken advan.
lusion. All this feeling, however, though it tage of their folly to excite the people to withmay be natural, is undoubtedly both misplaced draw it altogether. The true friends of the
and imprudent. The people are, upon the constitution must now bring it back; and must
whole, both more moral and more intelligent reconcile the people to the old monarchy and
than they ever were in any former period; and the old Parliament of their land, by restraining
therefore, if they are discontented, we may be the prerogative within its legitimate bounds
sure they have cause for discontent: if they and bringing back Parliament to its natural
have been deluded, we may be satisfied that habits of sympathy and concord with its conthere is a mixture of reason in the sophistry stituents.  The people, therefore, though it
by which they have been perverted.  All may be deluded, must be reclaimed by gentheir demands may not be reasonable; and tleness, and treated with respect and indulwith many, which may be just in principle, it gence.  All indications, and all feelings of
may, as yet, be impracticable to comply. But jealousy or contempt, must be abjured. Whatall are not in either of these predicaments; ever is to be granted, should be granted with
though we can only now afford to make par- cordial alacrity; and all denials should be
ticular mention of one: and one, we are con- softened with words and with aces of kindcerned to say, on which, though of the great- ness. The wounds that are curable, should
est possible importance, the people have of be cured; those that have festered more deeply
late found but few abettors among the old should be cleansed and anointed; and, into
friends of the constitution, we mean that of a such as it may be impossible to close, the
Reform in the representation.  Upon this patient should be allowed to pour any innopoint, we have spoken largely on former oc- cent balsam, in the virtues of which he becasions; and have only to add that, though we lieves. The irritable state of the body politic
can neither approve of such a reform as some will admit of no other treatment.-Incisions
very popular persons have suggested, nor and cauteries would infallibly bring on conbring ourselves to believe that any reform  vulsions and insanity.
would accomplish all the objects that have   We had much more to say; but we must
been held out by its most zealous advocates, close here: Nor indeed could any warning
we have always been of opinion that a large avail those who are not aware already. He
and liberal reform should be granted. The must have gazed with idle eyes on the recent
reasons of policy which have led us to this course of events, both at home and abroad,
conviction, we have stated on former occa- who does not see that no government can now
sions. But the chief and the leading reason subsist long in England, that is not bottomed
for supporting the proposal at present is, that in the affection of the great body of the peothe people are zealous for its adoption; and pie; and who does not see, still more clearly,
are entitled to this gratification at the hands that the party of the people is every day gainof their representatives. We laugh at the ing strength, from the want of judgment and
idea of there being any danger in disfranchis- of feeling in those who have defied and ining the whole mass of rotten and decayed sulted it, and from the coldness and alienation
boroughs, or communicating the elective fran- of those who used to be their patrons and de- 
chise to a great number of respectable citi- fenders. If something is not done to concilizens: And as to the supposed danger of the ate, these heartburnings must break out into,
mere example of yielding to the desires of deadly strife; and impartial history will asthe people, we can only say, that we are far sign to each of the parties their share of the
more strongly impressed with the danger of great guilt that will be incurred. The first
thwarting them. The people have far more and the greatest outrages will probably pro.
wealth and far more intelligence now, than ceed from  the people themselves; but a
they had in former times; and therefore they deeper curse will fall on the corrupt and suought to have, and they must have, more po- percilious government that provoked them:
litical power. The danger is not in yielding Nor will they be held blameless, who, when
to this swell, but in endeavouring to resist it. they might hWave repressed or moderated the
[f properly watched and managed, it will only popular impulse, by attempting to direct it
)ear the vessel of the state more proudly and chose rather to take counsel of their pride, and
Ateadily along; —if neglected, or rashly op- to stand by. and see the constitution torn to 
osed, it will dash her on the rocks and shoals pieces, because they could not approve esaif a sanguinary revolution.             tirely of either of the combatants!
89




810                              GENERAL POLITICS.
(Ortober,  1827.)
The History of 1'eland. By JOHN O'DRIscoL. In two vols. 8vo. pp. 815. London; 1827.~
A GOOD History of Ireland is still a deside- even a partial memorial of the truth.  That
ratum in our literature; —and would not only truth is, no doubt, for the most part, at once
be' interesting, we think, but invaluable. revolting and pitiable;-not easily at first to
There are accessible materials in abundance be credited, and to the last difficult to be
for such a history; and the task of arranging tol, with calmness. Yet it is thus only that
them really seems no less inviting than im- it can be told with advantage-and so told,
portant. It abounds with striking events, and it is pregnant with admonitions and suggeswith strange revolutions and turns of fortnne tions, as precious in their tenor, as irresisti-brought on, sometimes by.the agency of ble in their evidence, when once fairly reenterprising men,-but more frequently by ceived.
the silent progress of time, unwatched and    Unquestionably, in the main, England has
unsuspected, alike by those who were to suf- been the oppressor, and Ireland the victim;
fer, and those who were to gain by the result. -not always a guiltless victim,-and it may'In this respect, as well as in many others, it is be, often an offender: But even when the
as full of instruction as of interest,-and to the guilt may have been nearly balanced, the
people of this country especially, and of this weight of suffering has always fallen on the.
age, it holds out lessons far more precious, far weakest.  This comparative weakness,. inmore forcible and far more immediately ap- deed, was the first cause of Ireland's misery
plicable, than all that is elsewhere recorded -the second, her long separation, She had
in the annals of mankind. It is the very great- been too long a weak neighbour, to be easily
ness of this interest, however, and the dread  admitted to the rights of an equal ally. Prean  the encouragement of these applications, tensions which the growing strength and inth:lt have hitherto defaced and even falsified telligence of the one country began to feel
the record-that have made impartiality al- intolerable, were sanctioned in the eyes of the
most hopeless, and led alternately to the sup- other by long usage and prescription; —and
pression and the exaggeration of sufferings injustice, which never could have been first
and atrocities too monstrous, it might appear, inflicted when it was first complained of, was
in themselves, to be either exaggerated or yet long persisted in, because it had been long
disguised.  Party rancour and religious ani- submitted to with but little complaint. No
mosity have hitherto contrived to convert misgovernment is ever so bad as provincial
what should have been their antidote into misgovernment-and no provincial misgov-:their aliment,-and, by the simple expedient ernment, it would seem, as that which is exof giving only one side of the picture, have ercised by a free people,-whether arising
-pretty generally succeeded in making the his- from a jealous reluctance to extend that proud
Xtory of past enormities not a warning against, distinction to a race of inferiors, or from that,but an incitement to, their repetition. In tell- inherent love of absolute power, which gives
ing the story of those lamentable dissensions, all rulers a tendency to be despotic, and seeks,.each party has enhanced the guilt of the ad- when restrained at home, for vent and indem-;versary., and withheld all notice of their own; nification abroad.
-.and seems to have had it far more at heart   The actual outline of the story is as clear
to. irritate and defy each other, than to leave as it is painful.  Its most remarkable and
most disgusting feature is, that while Religion
* It may be thought that this should rather have has been made the pretext of its most sanguibeen brought in under the title of History: But the
truth is,, trhat I have now omitted all that is properly nary and atrocious contentions, it has been,
historical, and retained only what relates to the ne- from first to last, little else than a cover for
cessity!of:-maintaining the legislative and incorpo- the basest cupidity, and the meanest and most
rating union of the two countries; a topic that is unprincipled ambition.  The history which
purely political: and falls, I think, correctly enough concerns the present times, need not be traced
under the title of General Politics, since it is at t   farther back than to the days of Henry VIII.
day of still more absorbing interest than when these and Queen Mary. Up to that period the pett
observations,-were first published in 1827. If at that and Queen Mary.  Up  to that perod, the petty
time I thought a Separation, or a dissolution-of the and tyrannical Parliaments of the Pale had
union, (for they are the same thing,) a measure not indeed, pretty uniformly insulted and desto be contemplated but with horror, it may be sup- pised the great native chiefs among whom the
posed that I should not look more charitably on the bulk of the island was divided-but they had,proposition, now that Catholic emancipation and also feared them  and mostly let them  alone.
Parliamentary reform have taken away some, at         
least, of the motives or apologies of those by whom  At  that era, however, the growing strength
it was then maintained. The example of Scotland, and population of England inspired it with a
i I still think, is well put for the argument: And bolder ambition; and the rage of proselytism
among the many who must now consider this ques- which followed the Reformation, gave it both
tion. it may be gratifying to some to see upon what occasion and excuse.  The passions, which
grounds, and how decidedly, an'opinion was then led naturally enough to hostilities in such cir
formed upon it, by one certainly not too much dis- naturally enough to hostilities n such  ir.
posed to think favourably of the conduct or the pre. cumstances, were industriously fostered by
tensions of England.                         the cold-blooded selfishness of those who




O'DRISCOL'S IRELAND.                              611
were to profit by the result. Insurrections is in vain to hope that a provincial govern
were now regularly followed by Forfeitures; ment should not be oppressive-that a dela
and there were by this time men and enter- gated power should not be abused-that of
prise enough in England to meditate the oc- two separate countries, allied mnly, but not in
cupancy of the vast domains from which the corporated, the weaker sho ld not be derebel chieftains were thus first to be driven. graded, and the stronger unjust. The only
From this period, accordingly, to that of the remedy is to identify and amalgamate them
Restoration, the bloodiest and most atrocious throughout-to mix up the oppressors and the
in her unhappy annals, the history of Ireland oppressed-to take away all privileges and
may be summarily described as that of a se- distinctions, by fully communicating them,ries of sanguinary wars, fomented for purpo- and to render abuses impossible, by confound.
ses of Confiscation.  After the Restoration, ing their victims with their authors.
and down till the Revolution, this was suc-   If any one doubts of the wretchedness of
ceeded by a contest equally unprincipled and an unequal and unincorporating alliance, of
mercenary, between the settlers under Crom- the degradation of being subject to a provinwell and the old or middle occupants whom  cial parliament and a distant king, and of the
they had displaced. By the final success of efficacy of a substantial union in curing all
King William, a strong military government these evils, he is invited to look to the obvious
was once more imposed on this unhappy land; example of Scotland. While the crowns only
under which its spirit seemed at last to be were united. and the governments continued
broken, and even its turbulent activity re- separate, the weaker country was the scene
pressed. As it slowly revived, the Protestant of the most atrocious cruelties, the most vioantipathies of the English government seem  lent injustice, the most degrading oppressions.
to have been reinforced, or replaced, by a The prevailing religion of the people was promore extended and still more unworthy Na- scribed and persecuted with a ferocity greater
tional Jealousy-first on the subject of trade, than has ever been systematically exercised
and then on that of political rights: -and even in Ireland; her industry was crippled
since a more enlightened view of her own and depressed by unjust and intolerable reinterests, aided by the arms of the volunteers strictions; her parliaments corrupted and over.
of 1780, have put down those causes of op- awed into the degraded instruments of a dispression,-the system of misgovernment has tant court, and her nobility and gentry, cut off
been maintained, for little other end, that we from  all hope of distinction by vindicating
can discern, but to keep a small junto of arro- the rights or promoting the interests of their
gant individuals in power, and to preserve the country at home, were led to look up to the
supremacy of a faction, long after the actual favour of her oppressors as the only remaincessation of the causes that lifted them into ing avenue to power, and degenerated, for the
authority.                                most part, into a band of mercenary advenThis is C"the abstract and brief chronicle " turers; —the more considerable aspiring to the
of the political or external history of the sister wretched honour of executing the tyrannical
island. But it has been complicated of late, orders which were dictated from the South,
an dall its symptoms aggravated by the sin- and the rest acquiring gradually those habits
guiity of its economical relations. The mar- of subserviency and selfish submission, the
vellous multiplication of its people, and the traces of which are by some supposed to be
growing difficulty of supplying them  with yet discernible in their descendants.  The
food or employment, presenting, at the pre- Revolution, which rested almost entirely on
sent moment, a new and most urgent cause the prevailing antipathy to Popery, required,
of dissatisfaction and alarm.  For this last of course, the co-operation of all classes of
class of evils, a mere change in the policy of Protestants; and, by its success, the Scottish
the Government would indeed furnish no ef- Presbyterians were relieved, for a time, from
fectual remedy: and to find one in any degree their Episcopalian persecutions. But it was
available, might well task the ingenuity of the not till after the Union that the nation was
most enlightened and beneficent. But for the truly emancipated; or lifted up from the abgreater part of her past sufferings. as well as ject condition of a dependant, at once susher actual degradation, disunion, and most pected and despised.  The effects of that
dangerous discontent, it is impossible to deny happy consolidation were not indeed immedithat the successive Governments of England ately apparent; For the vices which had been
have been chiefly responsible. Without pre- generated by a century of provincial mistending to enumerate, or even to class, the government, the meannesses that had become
several charges which might be brought habitual, the animosities that had so long been
against them, or to determine what weight fostered, could not be cured at once, by the
should be allowed to the temptations or pro- mere removal of their cause. The generation
vocations by which they might be palliated, they had degraded, must first be allowed to
we think it easier and far more important die out-and more, perhaps, than one generato remark, that the only secure preventive tion: But the poison tree was cut down-the
would have been an early, an equal, and com- fountain of bitter waters was sealed up, and
plete incorporating Union of the two  oun- symptoms of returning vigour and happiness
tries:-and that the only effective cure for were perceived. Vestiges may still be traced,
the misery occasioned by its having been so perhaps, of our long degradation; but for, at
long delayed, is to labour, heartily and in ear- least, forty years back, the provinces of Scotnest, still to render it equal and complete. It land have been, on the whole. b't the North




Ie                          GENERAL POLITICS.
ern provinces of Great Britain.  There are liberty, they felt that they co-alt only lain.
no local oppressions; no national animosities. tain themselves in possession of it, by keep.
Life; and liberty, and property, are as secure in ing up that distrust and animosity, after its
Caithness as they are in Middlesex-industry causes had expired. They contrived, thereas much encouraged, and wealth still more fore, by false representations and unjust laws,
rapidly progressive; while not only different to foster those prejudices, which would other.
religious opinions, but different religious estab- wise have gradually disappeared-and, unlishments subsist in the two endsof the same luckily, succeeded but too well. As their
island in unbroken harmony, and only excite own comparative numbers and natural con.
each other, by a friendly emulation, to greater sequence diminished, they clung still closer
purity of life and greater zeal for Christianity. to their artificial holds on authority; and. exIf this happy Union, however, had been asperated by feeling their dignity menaced,
delayed for another century-if Scotland had and their monopolies endangered by the growbeen doomed to submit for a hundred years ing wealth, populatibn, and intelligence of the
more to the provincial tyranny of the Lauder- country at large, they redoubled their efforts,
dales, Rotheses, and Middletons, and to meet by clamour and activity, intimidation and dethe cruel persecutions which gratified the fe- ceit, to preserve the unnatural advantages
rocity of her Dalzells and Drummonds, and they had accidentally gained, and to keep
tarnished the glories of such men as Mon- down that springtide of general reason and
trose and Dundee, with her armed conventi- substantial power which they felt rising and
cles and covenanted saints militant-to see swelling all around them.
her patriots exiled, or bleeding on the scaffold   Their pretence was, that they were the
-her only trusted teachers silenced in her champions of the Protestant Ascendancy-and
churches and schools, and her Courts of Jus- that whenever that was endangered, there
tice degraded or overawed into the instru- was an end of the English connection. While
ments of a cowardly oppression, can any man the alliance of the two countries was indeed
doubt, not only that she would have presented, no more than a connection, there might be
at this day, a scene of even greater misery some truth in the assertion-or at least it was
and discord than Ireland did in 1800; but easy for an Irish Parliament to make it appear
that the corruptions and animosities by which to be true. But the moment they came to
she had been desolated would have been be incorporated, its falsehood and absurdity
found to have struck so deep root as still to should at once have become apparent. Unencumber the land, long after their seed had luckily, however, the incorporation was not so
ceased to be scattered abroad on its surface, complete, or the union so entire, as it should
and only to hold out the hope of their eradi- have been. There still was need, or was
cation, after many years of patient and painful thought to be need, of a provincial manageexertion.                               ment, a domestic government of Ireland;Such, however, is truly the condition of Ire- and the old wretched parliamentary machiland; and such are the grounds, and such the nery, though broken up and disabled for its
aspect of our hopes for her regeneration. So original work, naturally supplied the materials
far from tracing any substantive part of her for its construction. The men still survived
miseries to the Union of 1800, we think they who had long been the exclusive channels'of
are to be ascribed mainly to its long delay, communication with the supreme authority;
and its ultimate incompleteness. It isnot by and though other and wider channels were
a dissolution of the Union with England then, now opened, the habit of employing the forthat any good can be done, but by its im- mer, aided by the eagerness with which they
provement and consolidation. Some injury sought for continued employment, left with
it may have produced to the shopkeepers of them an undue share of its support. Still more
Dublin, and some inconsiderable increase in unluckily, the ancient practice of misgovernthe number of the absentees. But it has shut ment had left its usual traces on the character,
up the main fountain of corruption and dis- not only of its authors, but its victims. Habithonour; and palsied the arm and broken the ual oppression had produced habitual disaffecheart of local insolence and oppression. It tion; and a long course of wrong and conhas substituted, at least potentially and in tumely, had ended in a desperate indignation,
prospect, the wisdom and honour of the British and an eager thirst for revenge.
Government and the British people, to the   The natural and necessary consequences
passions and sordid interests of a junto of of the Union did not, therefore, immediately
Irish boroughmongers,-and not only enabled, follow its enactment-and are likely indeed
but compelled, all parties to appeal directly to be longer obstructed, and run greater hazto the great tribunal of the British public. ard of being fatally intercepted, than in the
While the countries remained apart, the actual case of Scotland. Not only is the mutual
depositaries of power were almost unavoida- exasperation greater, and the wounds more
bly relied on by the general government for deeply rankled, but the Union itself is more
information, and employed as the delegates incomplete, alnd leaves greater room for com.
of its authority-and, as unavoidably, abused plaints of inequality and unfairness.  The
the trust, and misled and imposed on their numerical strength, too, of the Irish people is
employers. Having come into power at the far greater, and their causes of discontent
time when the Catholic party, by its support more uniform, than they ever were in Scotof the House of Stuart, had excited against it land; and, above all, the temper of the race
all the fears and antipathies of the friends of is infinitely more eager, sanguine, and reck



O'DRISCOL'S IRELAND.                             113.ess of consequences, than that of the sober it might give in the outset. By the help of a
and calculating tribes of the north.  The French army and an American fleet, we think
greatest and most urgent hazard, therefore, is it by no means improbable that the separathat which arises from their impatience; —and tion might be accomplished. The English
this unhappily is such, that unless some early armies might be defeated or driven from its
measure of conciliation is adopted, it would shores —English capitalists might be butcherno longer be matter of surprise to anyone, if, ed-the English religion extirpated-and an
Aupon the first occasion of a war with any of Irish Catholic republic installed with due cere.
the great powers of Europe, or America, the mony in Dublin, and adopted with acclamagreat body of the nation should rise in final tion in most of the provinces of the land.
and implacable hostility, and endeavour to Under the protection of their foreign deliverthrow off all connection with, or dependence ers this state of triumph might even be for
on Great Britain, and to erect itself into an some time maintained. But how long would
independent state!                      this last? or how can it be imagined that it
To us it certainly appears that this would would end? Would the foreign allies remain
be a most desperate, wild, and impracticable for ever, on their own charges, and without inenterprise. But it is not upon this account terfering with the independence or the policy
the less likely to be attempted by such a of the new state which they had thus been
nation as the Irish;-and it cannot be dis- the means of creating? If they did, it would,
sembled that the mere attempt would almost after all, be but a vassal republic —a dependunavoidably plunge both countries in the most ency on a more distant and still more impefrightful and interminable ruin. Though the rious master-an outlying province of France
separation even of distant and mature de- -a military station from which to watch and
pendencies is almost always attended with to harass England, and on which the first
terrible convulsions, separation, in such cir- burst of her hostilities must always be broken
cumstances, is unquestionably an ultimate -and exposed, of course, in the mean time,
good; —and if Ireland were a mere depend- to all the license, the insolence, the rigour
ency, and were distant enough and strong of a military occupancy by a foreign and
enough to subsist and flourish as an independ- alien soldiery.
ent community, we might console ourselves,   But this, it is plain, could never be more
even for the infinite misery of the struggle than a temporary measure. The defende s
attending on the separation, by the prospect and keepers of the Hibernian republic would,
of the great increase of happiness that might in no long time, make peace with England,
be the final result. But it is impossible, we and quarrel, both with their new subjects, and
think, for any one but an exasperated and with each other-and then would come the
unthinking Irishman. not to see and feel that renovated, the embittered, the unequal strugthis neither is, nor ever can be, the condition gle with that exasperated power. Weakened
f Ireland. Peopled by the same race, speak- as England might be by the separation, it
ing the same language, associated in the same would be absurd to suppose that she would
pursuits; bound together and amalgamated by not still be a tremendous overmatch for Irecontinual intermarriages. joint adventures in land, single-handed; —or that this new state,
trade, and every sort of social relation, and, wasted and exhausted by the war of her indeabove all, lying within sight and reach of pendence, could supply the means of making
each other's shores, they are in truth as inti- and equipping a fleet, or appointing an army,
mately and inseparably connected as most such as would be required to make head
of the internal provinces of each are with one against this formidable antagonist. Though
another; and we might as well expect to the numerical majority of her people, too,
see two independent kingdoms established in might be zealous for maintaining he indefriendly neighbourhood, in Yorkshire and Lan- pendence, it is obvious that England would
cashire, as to witness a similar spectacle on still have in her bosom a body of most forthe two sides of the Irish Channel. Two such midable allies.. The most intelligent, the most
countries, if of equal strength, and exasperated wealthy, the most politic and sagacious of her
by previous contentions. never could maintain inhabitants, are at this moment in the English
the relations of peace and amity with each interest; —and, however sweeping and bloody
other, as separate and independent states;-  the proscription by which they might have
but must either mingle into one-or desolate been overthrown, multitudes w-ould still reeach other in fierce and exterminating hos- main, with means and influence sufficient to
tility, till one sinks in total exhaustion at the render their co-operatian most perilous, in a
feet of the bleeding and exhausted victor. In contest for its restoration. Even if left to her
the actual circumstances of the two countries, own resources, we have little doubt that the
however, the attempt would be attended with country would soon be a prey to civil wars.
still more deplorable consequences. Ireland, plots, and insurrections, which the want of
with whom alone it can originate, is decidedly skill and experience in the new rulers, as well
the weakest, in wealth, population, and all as the state of their finances, would aggravate
effective resources-and probably never will into universal disorder. It is no easy thing
venture on the experiment without foreign as- to settle a new government amicably, even
sistance. But it must be at once apparent how  where there is no foreign interference:-and,
the introduction of this unhallowed element in Ireland, from the temper of the people,
darkens all the horrors of the prospect. We and the circumstances which would leave less
are far from making light of the advantages than an ordinary proportion of men of rank,




614                           GENERAL POLITICS.
education, and personal authority in the bands in the first instance, to diminish tLe tremedof the successful party, the difficulty would dous hazard, by simply " doing Justice ann
probably be insurmountable. It is impossible, showing Mercy" to those whom it is, in all
however, not to suppose that England would other respects, her interest, as well as hei
eagerly avail herself of those dissensions, both duty, to cherish and protect.
by intrigue, corruption, and force; and equally   One thing we take to be evident, and it is
impossible to doubt that she would succeed, the substance of all that can be said on the
if not in regaining her supremacy, at least in subject, that things are fast verging to a crisis,}
embroiling the unhappy country which was and cannot, in all probability, remain long as
the subject of it, in the most miserable and they are. The Union, in short, must either
interminable disorders.                  be made equal and complete on the part of
The sum of the matter then is, that there England-or it will be broken in pieces and
could be no peace, and, consequently, no pros- thrown in her face by Ireland. That country
perity or happiness for Ireland. as a separate must either be delivered from the domination
and independent neighbour to England. Two of an Orange faction, or we must expect, in
such countries, after all that has passed be- spite of all our warnings and remonstrances,
tween them, could no more live in quiet and to see her seek her own deliverance by the
comfort beside each other, than a wife who fatal and bloody career to which we have
had deserted her husband's house could live already alluded-and from which we hold it
again in his society and that of his family, as to be the height of guilt and of folly to hesia friend or visitor-having her expenses sup- tate about withholding her, by the sacrifice
plied, and her solitude enlivened, by the fre- of that miserable faction.
quent visits of professing admirers: Nor can   Little, however, as we rely, without such
any lesson of prudence be addressed to the co-operation, on the effect of our warnings,
fiery and impatient spirits who may now  we cannot endwithout again lifting our feeble
meditate in Ireland the casting off of their voice to repeat them-without conjuring the
ties with the sister island, more precisely ap- lovers of Ireland to consider how hopeless
plicable to their prospects and condition, than and how wretched any scheme of a permathe warnings which a friendly adviser would nent separation from England must necessaaddress to an exasperated matron, whose do- rily be, and how certainly their condition must
mestic grievances had led her to contemplate be ameliorated by the course of events, the
such a fatal step. And can any one doubt gradual extinction of the generation in whom
that the counsel which any faithful and even the last life-use of antiquated oppressions is
partial friend would give her, must be, to bear now centered, and the spread of those mild
much from her husband, rather than venture and liberal sentiments, to which nothing can
on so desperate a remedy; to turn her thoughts so much contribute as a spirit of moderation
rather to conciliation than recrimination or re- and patience in those who have so long sufvenge; to avoid as much as possible all causes fered from the want of them. By the Union,
of reasonable or unreasonable offence-and, such as it is, we think the axe has been laid
above all, firmly and temperately to assert to the root of the old system of oppression
the interests secured by the provisions of her and misgovernment in Ireland-and though
marriage articles, and to stimulate and insist its branches may still look green, and still
on the resolute interference of the trustees afford shelter to the unclean birds who were
appointed to enforce them.               bred and have so long nestled in their covert,
Such are the warnings which we would ad- the sap ascends in them no longer, and the
dress to the offended and exasperated party, whole will soon cease to cumber the ground,
in whose vindictive and rash proceedings the or obstruct the sight of the sky. In these
catastrphe we have been contemplating must circumstances, the only wise and safe course
originate. But though we certainly think they is to watch, and gently to assist the progress
must appear convincing to any calm specta- of their natural' decay.. If, in some fit of imtor, it is not the less probable that they would patience, the brands are thrown into the moulbe of little avail with the inflamed and ex- dering mass, and an attempt made to subject
cited party, unless they were seconded by the land at once to the fatal Purgation of Fire,
conciliatory and gentle measures on the part the risk is, not only that the authors will perof the supposed offender.  Nor are there ish in the conflagration, but that another and
wanting motives sufficiently urgent and im- a ranker crop of abominations will spring from
perious to make such measures, in all sound its ashes, to poison the dwellings of many fu
reason, indispensable. In the event of a war ture generations.
for independence, Ireland would probably be   We may seem to have forgotten Mr. O'Dris.
the scene of the greatest carnage, havoc, and col in these general observations: and yet
devastation-and, in the end, we think her they are not so foreign to his merits, as they
lot would be by far the most deplorable. But may at first sight appear. His book certainly
to England also, it is obvious that such a con- does not supply the desideratum of which we
test would be the source of unspeakable ca- spoke at the outset, and will not pass to poslamity; and the signal, indeed, of her perma- terity as a complete or satisfactory History of
nent weakness, insecurity, and degradation. Ireland. But it is written at least in a good
That she is bound, therefore, for her own sake spirit; and we do not know that we could
to avert it, by every possible precaution and better describe its general scope and tendency,
every possible sacrifice, no one will be hardy than by saying, that they coincide almost en.
enough to deny —far less that she is bound, tirely with the sentiments we have just beex




O'DRISCOL'S IRELAND.                                615
expressing. The author, we have recently the food of more than a million of new inhab.
understood, is a Catholic: But we had really itants, which they remember in their primitive
read through his work without discovering it, state of sterile and lonely morasses. Without
-and can testify that he not only gives that potatoes, without corn, turnips, or cultivated
party their full share of blame in all the trans- grasses —with few sheep, and with nothing
actions which deserve it, but speaks of the in short, but roving herds of black cattle, if
besetting sins.of their system, with a freedom  Ireland had a full million of inhabitants in the
and severity which no Protestant, not abso- tenth or twelfth century, she had a great deal;
lutely Orange, could easily improve on.. We and in spite of her theological colleges, and
needed no extrinsical lights, indeed, to discover her traditionary churches, we doubt whether
that he was an Irishman, —for, independent she had as many.:  But whatever may have
of the pretty distinct intimation conveyed in been the number or condition of her people in
his name, we speedily discovered a spirit of those remote ages, of which we have no stanationality about him, that could leave no tistical memorial and no authentic account, it
doubt on the subject. It is the only kind of is a little bold in Mr. O'Driscol to persuade
partiality, however, which we can detect in us, that in the time of Elizabeth they were
his performance; and it really detracts less by no means an uncultivated or barbarous
from his credit than might be imagined,-  people. To the testimony afforded by all the
partly because it is so little disguised as to official documents and the full and graphic
lead to no misconceptions, and chiefly because accounts of Spenser, Davis, and the writers
it is mostly confined to those parts of the story referred to by Camden, long resident in the
in which it can do little harm. It breaks out country, and eye-witnesses of all they demost conspicuously in the earlier and most scribe, we really do not know  what Mr.
problematical portion of the narrative; as to O'Driscol has to oppose, but his own patriotic
which truth is now most difficult to be come prejudices, and his deep-rooted conviction,
at, and of least value when ascertained. He that no English testimony is to be trusted on
is clear, for example, that the Irish were, for such a subject. We must be forgiven for not
many centuries before the conquest of Henry sharing in his generous incredulity.
II., a very polished, learned, and magnificent   As to the more modern parts of the history,
people-that they had colleges at Lismore though he never fails to manifest an amiable
and Armagh, where thousands upon thousands anxiety to apologise for Irish excesses, and to
of studious youth imbibed all the learning of do justice to Irish bravery and kindness, we
the times-that they worked beautifully in really are not aware that this propensity has
gold and silver, and manufactured exquisite led him  into any misrepresentation of facts;
fabrics both in flax and wool —and, finally, and are happy to find that it never points, in
that the country was not only more prosperous the remotest degree, to any thing so absurd
and civilised, but greatly more populous, in as either a separation from England, or a vinthose early ages, than in any succeeding time. dictive wish for her distress or humiliation.
We have no wish to enter into an idle anti- He is too wise, indeed, not to be aware of that
quarian controversy-but we must say that no important truth, which so few of his zealous
sober Saxon can adopt these legends without countrymen seem, however. able to comprevery large allowances. It is indubitable that hend-that there are no longer any of those
the Irish, or some of them, did very anoiently injured Irish in existence, upon whom  the
fabricate linen, and probably also some orna- English executed such flagrant oppressions
ments of gold; and it would appear, from cer- two hundred years ago! and that nine tenths
tain ecclesiactical writers of no great credit, of the intelligent Irish, who now burn with
that they had among them large seminaries desire to avenge the wrongs of their predefor priests,-a body possessing, in those ages, cessors, are truly as much akin to those who
no very extraordinary learning, even in more did, as to those who suffered, the injury. We
favoured localities. But it is at least equally doubt whether even the O'Driscols have not,
certain, that they were entirely a Pastoral by this time, nearly as much English as Irish
people, unacquainted with agriculture, hold- blood in their veins; and are quite sure, that
ing their herds as the common property of the if the lands pillaged from their original Celtic
clan, dwelling in rude huts or wigwams, for owners, in the days of Elizabeth and Cromthe most part deplorably ignorant, and, in spite well, were to be given back to the true heirs,
of their priests, generally practising polygamy scarcely one of those who now reprobate the
and other savage vices.  But what chiefly spoliation in good English, would profit by the
demonstrates the bias under which our author restitution. The living Irishmen of the presconsiders those early times, is his firm belief ent day may have wrongs to complain of, and
in the great populousness of ancient Ireland, injuries to redress, on the part of the English
and the undoubting confidence with which he Government: But it is absurd to imagine that
rejects all the English accounts of their bar- they are entitled to resent the wrongs and inbarism, even in the times of Henry VIII. and
Elizabeth. But a pastoral country never can be   * If we remember rightly, the forces actually enpopulous-and one overrun with unreclaim- gaged in the conquest or defence of Ireland in the
ed bogs and unbroken forests, still less than time of Henry the Second were most insignificant,
any other: More than two thirds of the present in point of numbers. Less than a hundred men-at..
population of Ireland undoubtedly owe their arms easily took possession of a whole district; and
even after the invaded had time to prepare for reexistence to the potato; and men alive can sistance, an army of three or four hundred wastill point out large districts, now producing found quite sufficient to bear down all opposition.




616                             GENERAL POLITICS.
juries of those who suffered it! the same place spoilers than any of the hated English, whose
centuries ago. They are m)st of them half ancestors never adventured to the neighbourEnglish, by blood and lineage-and much ing island. Mr. O'Driscol's partiality for the
more than half English, in speech. training, ancient Irish, therefore, is truly a mere pecucharacter, and habits. If they are to punish liarity of taste or feeling —or at best but an
the descendants of the individual English who historical predilection; and in reality has no
usurped Irish possessions, and displaced true influence, as it ought to have none, on his
Irish possessors, in former days, they must views as to what constitutes the actual grievpunish  themselves; —for undoubtedly they ances, or is likely to work the deliverance, of
are far more nearly connected with those the existing generation.
(Detcenber, 1Sr2.)
Memoirs of the Life of the Right Honourable Richard Brinsley Sheridan. By THOMAS MOORE.
Fourth Edition. 2 vols. 8vo. London: Longman and Co. 1826.*
WE have frequently had occasion to speak between them, seem  to be chiefly two —
of the dangers to which the conflict of two First, that their doctrines are timid, vacillatextreme parties must always expose the peace ing, compromising, and inconsistent; and,
and the liberties of such a country as England, secondly, that the party which holds them is
and of the hostility with which both are apt small, weak, despised, and unpopular. These
to regard those who still continue to stand are the favourite texts, we think, of those
neutral between them. The charges against whose vocation it has lately become to preach
this middle party-which we take to be now  against us, from the pulpits at once of servility
represented by the old constitutional Whigs and of democratical reform. But it is necesof 1688-used formerly to be much the same, sary to open them up a little farther, before
though somewhat mitigated in tone, with we enter on our defence.
those which each was in the habit of address-   The first charge then is, That the Whigs
-ing to their adversaries in the opposite ex- afe essentially an inefficient, trimming, halftreme.  When the high Tories wanted to way sort of party-too captious, penurious,
abuse the Whigs, they said they were nearly and disrespectful to authority, to be useful
as bad as the Radicals; and when these wished servants in a Monarchy, and too aristocratical,
in their turn to lessen the credit of the same cautious, and tenacious of old institutions, to
unfortunate party, the established form of re- deserve the confidence, or excite the sympaproach was, that they were little better than thies, of a generous and enlightened People.
the Tories!  Of late years, however, a change Their advocates, accordingly-and we ourseems to have come over the spirit, or the selves in an an especial manner-are accused
practical tactics at least, of these gallant bel- of dealing in contradictory and equivocating
ligerents. They have now discovered that doctrines; of practising a continual see-saw
there are vices and incapacities peculiar to of admissions and retractations; of saying now
the Whigs, and inseparable indeed from their a word for the people-now one for the arismiddle position: and that before settling their tocracy —now one for the Crown; of paralysing
fundamental differences with each other, it is all our liberal propositions by some timid and
most wise and fitting that they should unite paltry reservation, and never being betrayed
to bear down this common enemy, by making into a truly popular sentiment without ingood against them  these heavy imputations. stantly chilling and neutralising'it by some
It has now become necessary, therefore, for cold warning against excess, some cautious
those against whom they are directed, to in- saving of the privileges of rank and establishquire a little into the nature and proofs of ment. And so far has this system of inculpa
these alleged enormities; the horror of which tion been lately carried. that a liberal Journal,
has thus suspended the conflict of old heredi- of great and increasing celebrity, has actually
tary enemies, and led them  to proclaim a done us the honour, quarter after quarter, of
truce, till the field, by their joint efforts, can quoting long passages from our humble pages,
be cleared for fair hostilities, by the destruc- in evidence of this sad infirmity in our party
tion of these hated intruders.             and principles.
Now, the topics of reproach which these   Now, while we reject of course the epithets,two opposite parties have recently joined in which are here applied to us, we admit, at,directing against those who would mediate once, the facts on which our adversaries profess to justify them. We acknowledge that
* What is here given forms but a small part of we are fairly chargeable with a fear of oppothe article originally published under this title, in site excesses-a desire to compromise and
1826., But it exhibits nearly the whole of the Gen- reconcile the claims of all the great parties in
eral Politics contained in that article;'and having the State-an anxiety to temper and qualify
been, as I believe, among the last political discus- whatever may be said i favour of one
sions, I contributed to the Review, I have been  whatever may be sa
tempted to close, with it, this most anxious and a steady reservation of whatever may be justly
perilous division of the present publication.  due to the rest. To this sort of trimming, to




MOORE'S LIFE OF SHERIDAN.                             617
this inconsistency, to this timidity, we dis- followed with regard to us — that our advertinctlv plead guilty. We plead guilty to a saries have effectedi or rather pretended; an
love to the British Constitution-and to all unnatural union against us,-and, deserting
and every one of its branches. We are for not only the old rules of political hostility,
King, Lords, and Commons;. and though not but, as it humbly appears to us, their own
perhaps exactly in that order, we are proud fundamental principles, have combined to atto have it said that we have a word for each tack us, on the new and distinct ground of
in its turn; and that, in asserting the rights our moderation, —not because we are opposed
of one, we would not willingly forget those to their extreme doctrines respectively, but
of the others. Our jealousy, we coifess, is because we are not extremely opposed to them!
greatest of those who have the readiest means -and, affecting a generous indulgence and
of persuasion; and therefore, we are generally respect for those who are diametrically against
far more afraid of the encroachments of them, seem actually to have agreed to join
arbitrary power, under cover of its patron- forces with them, to run down those who stand
age, and the general love of peace, security, peacefully between, and would gladly effect
and distinction, which attract so strongly to their reconcilement.  We understand very
the region of the Court, than of the usurpa- well the feelings which lead to such a course
tions of populartviolence. But we are for au- of proceeding; but we are not the less conthority, as well as for freedom. We are for vinced of their injustice, —and; in spite of all
the natural and wholesome influence of wealth that may be said of neutrals in civil war, or
and rank, and the veneration which belongs interlopers in matrimonial quarrels, we still
to old institutions, without which no govern- believe that the Peacemakers are Blessed, —
ment has ever had either stabilityor respect; and that they who seek conscientiously to
as well as for that vigilance of popular control, moderate the pretensions of contending facand that supremacy of public opinion, without tions, are more likely to be right than either
which none could be long protected from  of their opponents.
abuse. We know that, when pushed, to their   The natural, and, in our humble judgment,
ultimate extremes, those principles may be the very important function of a middle party
said to be in contradiction. But the escape is, not only to be a check, but a bulwark LO
from inconsistency is secured by the very ob- both those that are more decidedly opposed;
vious precaution of stopping short of such ex- and though liable not to be very well looked
tremes. It was to prevent this, in fact, that on by either, it should only be very obnoxious,
the English constitution, and indeed all good we should think; to the stronger, or those who
government everywhere, was established. are disposed to act on the offensive. To them
Every thing that we know that is valuable in it naturally enough presents the appearance
the ordinances of men, or admirable in the of an advanced post, that must be carried bearrangements of Providence, seems to depend fore the main battle can be joined,-and for
on a compromise, a balance; or, if the expres- the assault of which they have neither the
sion is thought better, on a conflict and strug- same weapons, the same advantages of plsigle, of opposite and irreconcileable principles. tion. nor the same motives of action. To the
Virtue-society-life itself, and, in so far as weaker party, however, or those who stand
we ean see, the grand movements and whole on their defence. it must, or at least should,
order of the universe, are maintained only by always be felt to be a protection,-though resuch a balance or contention.             ceived probably with grudging and ill grace,
These, we are afraid, will appear but idle as a sort of half-faced fellowship, yielded
truisms, and shallow pretexts for foolish self- with no cordiality, and ready enough to be
commendation. No one, it will be said, is withdrawn if separate terms can be made
for any thing but the British constitution; and with the adversary. With this scheme of
nobody denies that it depends on a balance tactics we have long been familiar; and for
of opposite principles. The only question is,. those feelings we were prepared. But it is
whether that balance is now rightly adjusted; rather too much, we think, when those who
and whether the Whigs are in the proper are irreconcileably hostile, and. whose only
central position for correcting its obliquities. quarrel with us is, that we go half the length
Now,. if the attacks to which we are alluding of their hated opponents,-have the face to
hadl been reducible to such a principle as this, pretend that we are more justly hateful to
-if we had been merely accused, by our them, than those who go the whole length,brethren of the Westminster, for not going far that they have really no particular quarrel
enough on the popular side, and by our breth- with those who are beyond us, and that we,
ren of the Quarterly, for going too far,-we in fact, and our unhappy mid-way position
should have had nothing to complain of, be- are the only obstacles to a cordial union o?
yond what is inseparable from all party con- those whom it is, in truth, our main object to
tentions; and must have (done our best to an- reconcile and unite!
swer those opposite charges, on their separate   Nothing. we take it, can be so plain as that
and specific merits,-taking advantage, of this is a hollow, and, in truth, very flimsy
course, as against each. of the authority of the pretext: and that the real reason of the aniother, as a proof, a fortiori, of the safety of mosity with which we are honoured by ihe
our own intermediate position. But the pe- more eager individuals in both the extreme
culiarity of our present case, and the hardship parties is, that we afford a covering and a
which alone induces us to complain of it is, shelter to each-impede the assault they are.nat th is is not the course that has been lately impatient mutually to make on each other,




618.                           GENEKAL POLITICS.
and take away from them the means of that within their reach, it is not the less ul fair an(l
direct onset, by which,the sanguine in both unworthy in itself, nor the less shoitsighted
hosts imagine they might at once achieve a and ungrateful in the parties who are guilty
decisive victory. If there were indeed no of it. For we do not hesitate to say, that it
belligerents, it is plain enough that there could is substantially to this calumniated and mube no neutrals and no mediators. If there tually reviled Whig party, or to those who act
was no natural war between Democracy and on its principles, that the country is truly inMonarchy, no true ground of discord between debted for its peace and its constitution,-and
Tories and Radical Reformers —we admit one at least, if not both of the extreme parthere would be no vocation for Whigs: for the ties, for their very existence! If there were
true definition of that party, as matters now  no such middle body, who saw faults and
stand in England, is, that it is a middle patty, merits in both, and could not consent to the
between the two extremes of high monarchical unqualified triumph or unqualified extirpation
principles on the one hand, and extremely of either-if the whole population of the
popular principles on the other. It holds no country was composed of intolerant Tories
peculiar opinions, that we are aware of, on any and fiery reformers,-of such spirits, in short,
other points of policy,-and no man of com- to bring the matter to a plain practical bearmon sense can doubt, and no man of common ing, as the two hostile parties have actually
candour deny, that it differs from each of the chosen, and now support as their leaders and
other parties on the very grounds on which spokesmen, does any man imagine that its
they differ from each other, —the only distinc- peace or its constitution could be maintained
tion being that it does not differ so widely.   for a single year l On such a supposition, it
Can any thing be so preposterous as a pre- is plain that they must enter immediately on
tended truce between two belligerents, in an active, uncompromising, relentless conorder that they may fall jointly upon those tention; and, after a short defying parley,
who are substantially neutral?-a dallying must, by force or fear, effect the entire suband coquetting with mortal enemies, for the version of one or the other; and in either case,
purpose of gaining a supposed advantage over a complete revolution and dissolution of the
those who are to a great extent friends? Yet present constitution and principle of governthis is the course that has recently been fol- ment. Compromise, upon that supposition,
lowed, and seems still to be pursued. It is we conceive, must be utterly out of the quesnow some time since the thorough Reformers tion; as well as the limitation of the contest
began to make awkward love to the Royalists, to words, either of reasoning or of abuse.
by pretending to bewail the obscuration which They would be at each other's Throats, before
the Throne had suffered from the usurpations the end of the year! or, if there was any comof Parliamentary influence,-the curtailment promise, what could it be, but a compromise
of the Prerogative by a junto of ignoble bo- on the middle ground of Whiggism? —a virroughmongers, -and the thraldom in which tual conversion of a majority of those very
the Sovereign was held by those who were combatants, who are now supposed so to hate
truly his creatures. Since that time, the more and disdain them, to the creed of that modprevailing tone has been, to sneer at the Whig erate and liberal party?
aristocracy, and to declaim, with all the bit-   What is it, then, that prevents such a morterness of real fear and affected contempt, on tal conflict from taking place at the present
the practical insignificance of men of fortune moment between those who represent themand talents. who are neither Loyal nor Popu- sent themselves respectively, as engrossing
lar-and, at the same time, to lose no oppor- all the principle and all the force of the
tunity of complimenting the Tory possessors country? what, but the fact, that a very large
of power, for every act of liberality, which portion of the population do not in reality behad been really forced upon them by those long to either; but adhere, and are known to
very Whigs whom they refuse to acknowledge adhere, to those moderate opinions, for the
as even co-operating in the cause! The high profession of which the Whigs and their adTory or Court party have, in substance, played vocates are not only covered with the obloquy
the same game. They have not indeed af- of those whom they save from the perils of
fected, so barefacedly, an entire sympathy, or such frightful extremities, but are prepostervery tender regard for their radical allies: but ously supposed to have incurred the dislike
they have acted on the same principle. They of those with whom in fact they are identified,
have echoed and adopted the absurd fiction and to whom they belong?
of the unpopularity of the Whigs,-and, speak-   And this leads us to say a few words on the
ing with affected indulgence of the excesses second grand position of the Holy Allies,
into which a generous love of liberty may oc- against whom we are now called to defend
casionally hurry the ignorant and unthinking, ourselves, that the Whigs are not only inconhave reserved all their severity, unfairness, sistent and vacillating in their doctrines, but,
and intolerance, for the more moderate oppo- in consequence of that vice or error, are, in
nents with whose reasonings they find it more fact. weak, unpopular, and despised in the
difficult to cope, and whose motives and true country. The very circumstance of their being
position in the country, they are therefore so felt to be so formidable as to require this
eager to misrepresent.                    strange alliance to make head against them,
Now, though all this may be natural enough and to force their opponents to intermit all
in exasperated disputants, who are apt to other contests, and expend on them  exclu
wreak their vengeance on whatever is most sively the whole treasures of their sophistry




MOORE'S LIFE OF SHERIDAN.                               619
and abuse. might go far, we think, to refute ministration in some measure in their hands)
this desperate allegation. But a very short would be glad enough to put down all popuresumption of the principles we have just lar interference, whether by assemblies, by
been unfolding will show that it cannot pos- speech, or by writing; and, in fact, only allow
sibly be true.                             the law to be as indulgent as it is, and its ad.
We reckon as Whigs, in this question, all ministration to be so much more indulgent,
those who are not disposed to go the length from a conviction that they would not be sup.
of either of the extreme parties who would ported in more severe measures, either by
now divide the country between them,-all, public opinion without, or even by their own
in other words, who wish the Government to majorities within the walls of the Legislature.
be substantially more popular than it is, or is They know very well that a great part of their
tending to be-but, at the same time to re- adherents are attached to them by no other
tain more aristocratical influence, and more tie than that of their own immediate interest,
deference to authority, than the Radical Re- -and that, even among them  as they now
formers will tolerate: —and, we do not hesi- stand, they could command at least as large
tate to say. that so far from being weak or a following for Whig measures as for Tory
inconsiderable in the country, we are perfectly measures, if only proposed by an administraconvinced that, among the educated classes, tion of as much apparent stability. It is not
which now embrace a very large proportion necessary, indeed, to go farther than to the
of the whole, it greatly outnumbers both the common conversation of the more open or
others. put together.  It should always be careless of those who vote and act among the
recollected, that a middle party like this is Tories, to be satisfied, that a very large proinvariably much stronger, as well as more portion, indeed, of those who pass under that
determined and formidable, than it appears. title, are what we should call really Whigs in
Extreme doctrines always make the most heart and conviction, and are ready to declare
noise. They lead most to vehemence, pas- themselves such, on the first convenient opsion, and display,-they are inculcated with portunity. With regard to the Radical Remost clamour and exaggeration, and excite formers, again, very little more, we think, can
the greatest alarm. In this way we hear of be necessary to show their real weakness in
them most frequently and loudly. But they the country, than to observe how very few
are not, upon that account, the most widely votes they ever obtain at an election, even in
spread or generally adopted;-and, in an en- the most open boroughs, and the most populightened country, where there are two oppo- lous and independent counties. We count foi
site kinds of extravagance thus trumpeted nothing in this question the mere physical
abroad together, they serve in a good degree force which may seem to be arrayed on their
as correctives to each other; and the great side in the manufacturing' districts, on occabody of the people will almost inevitably set- sions of distress and suffering; though, if they
tIe into a middle or moderate opinion. The felt that they had even this permanently at
champions, to be sure, and ambitious leaders their command, it is impossible that they
on each side, will probably only be exasperat- should not have more nominations of parliaed into greater bitterness and greater confi- mentary attorneys, and more steady and imdence, by the excitement of their contention. posing exhibitions of their strength and union.
-But the greater part of the lookers-on can   At the present moment, then, we are perscarcely fail to perceive that mutual wounds suaded that the proper Whig party is in reality
have been inflicted, and mutual infirmities by much the largest and the steadiest in the
revealed, —and  the continuance and very country; and we are also convinced, that it is
fierceness of the combat is apt to breed a in a course of rapid increase. The effect of
general opinion, that neither party is right, to all long-continued discussion is to disclose
the height of their respective pretensions; flaws in all sweeping arguments, and to muland that truth and justice can only be satis- tiply exceptions to all general propositionsflied by large and mutual concessions.      to discountenance extravagance, in short, to
Of the two parties-the Thorough Reformers abate confidence and intolerance, and thus to
are most indebted for an appearance of greater lay the foundations for liberal compromise and
strength than they actually possess, to their mutual concession. Even those who continue
own boldness and activity, and the mere curi- to think that all the reason is exclusively on
osity it excites among the idle, co-operating their side, can scarcely hope to convert their
with the sotnding alarms of their opponents, opponents, except by degrees. Some few rash
-while the high Tories owe the same advan- and fiery spirits may contrive to pass from one
tage in a greater degree to the quiet effect of extreme to the other, without going through
their influence and wealth, and to that pru- the middle. But the common course undoubtdence which leads so many, who in their edly is different; and therefore we are entitled
hearts are against them, to keep their opinions to reckon, that every one who is detached from
to themselves, till some opportunity can be the Tory or the Radical faction, will make a
found of declaring them with effect. Both, stage at least, or half-way house, of Whiggism;
however, are conscious that they owe much and may probably be induced, by the comfort
to such an illusion,-and neither, accordinglyv  and respectability of the establishment, to rehas courage to venture on those measures to main: As the temperate regions of the earth
which they would infallibly resort, if they are found to detain the greater part of those
trusted to their apparent, as an actual or avail- who have been induced to fly from the heats
able strength. The Tories, who have the ad- of the Equator, or the rigours of the Pole.




20                           GENERAL POLITICS.
Though it is natural enough, therefore, for siderable time, the general sway of men pro.
those who hold extreme opinions, to depreciate fessing Tory principles; and their speedy res
the weight and power of those who take their toration, when driven for a season from their
station between them, it seems sufficiently places by disaster or general discontent: and
certain, not only that their position must at all the Whigs, during the same period, must contimes be the safest and best, but that it is des- tent themselves with preventing a great deal
tined ultimately to draw to itself all that is of evil, and seeing the good which they had
truly of any considerable weight upon either suggested tardily and imperfectly effected, by
hand; and that it is the feeling of the con- those who will take the credit of originating
stant and growing force of this central attrac- what they had long opposed, and only at last
tion, that inflames the animosity of those adopted with reluctance and on compulsion.
whose importance would be lost by the con- It is not a very brilliant prospect, perhaps, nor
vergence. For our own part, at least, we are a very enviable lot. But we believe it to be
satisfied, and we believe the party to which what awaits us; and we embrace it, not only
we belong is satisfied, both with the degree cheerfully, but with thankfulness and prideof influence and respect which we possess in thankfulness, that we are enabled to do even
the country, and with the prospects which, so much for the good and the liberties of our
we think, upon'reasonable grounds, we may country-and pride, that in thus seeking her
entertain of its increase. In assuming to our- service, we cannot well be suspected of selfish
selves the character of a middle party, we or mercenary views.
conceive that we are merely stating a fact,   The thorough Reformers never can be in
which cannot well be disputed on the present power in this country, but by means of an acoccasion, as it is assumed by both those who tual revolution. The Whigs may, and occaare now opposed to us, as the main ground of sionally willj'without any disturbance to its
their common attack; and almost all that we peace. But these occasions might be multihave said follows as a necessary consequence plied, and the good that must attend them
of this assumption. From the very nature of accelerated and increased, if the Reformers,
the thing, we cannot go to either of the ex- aware of the hopelessness of their separate
treme parties; and neither of them can make cause, would throw their weight into the scale
any movement to increase their popularity and of the Whigs, and so far modify their pretensubstantial power without coming nearer to sions as to make it safe or practicable to supus. It is but fair, however, before concluding, port them. The Whigs, we have already
to state, that though we do occupy a position said, cannot come to them; both because
between the intolerant Tories and the thorough they hold some of their principles, and thei.
Reformers, we conceive that we are consider- modes of asserting them, to be not merely unably nearer to the latter than to the former. In reasonable, but actually dangerous; and beour principles, indeed, and the ends at which cause, by their adoption, they would at once
we aim, we do not materially differ from what hazard much mischief, and unfit themselves
is professed by the more sober among them; for the good service they now perform. But
though we require more caution, more securi- the Reformers may very well come to the
ties, more exceptions, more temper, and more Whigs; both because they can practically do
time.                                    nothing (peaceably) for themselves. and beThat is the difference of our theories. In cause the measures which they might occapractice, we have no doubt, we shall all have sionally enable the Whigs to carry, though
time enough:-For it is the lot of England, not in their eyes unexceptionable or sufficient,
we have little doubt, to be ruled in the main must yet appear to them better than those of
by what will be called a Tory party, for as the Tories-which is the only attainable allong a period as we can now look forward to ternative. This accordingly, we are persuadwith any great distinctness-by a Tory party, ed, will ultimately be the result; and is alhowever, restrained more and more in its pro- ready, we have no doubt, in a course of
pensities, by the growing influence of Whig accomplishment;- and, taken along with
principles, and the enlightened vigilance of the gradual abandonment of all that is offenthat party, both in Parliament and out of it; sive in Tory pretensions, and the silent adopand now and then admonished, by atemporary tion of most of the Whig principles, even
expulsion, of the necessity of a still greater by those who continue to disclaim the name,
conformity with the progress of liberal opin- will effect almost all that sober lovers of their
tons, than could be spontaneously obtained. country can expect, for the security of hel
The inherent spirit, however, of monarchy, liberties, and the final extinction of all ex.
and the natural effect of long possession of treme parties,. in the liberal iroderat on of
power, will secure, we apprehend, for a con- Whiggism.




M IS CE LLAN E OUS.
An Appel from the Judgments of Great Britain respecting the United States of America. Part
First. Containing an Historical Outline of their Merits and Wrongs as Colonies, and Stric.
tures on the Calumnies of British W'riters. By ROBERT WALSH, Esq. 8vo. pp. 505. Philadelphia and London: 1819;*
ONE great staple of this book is a vehe- deed, on the score of this author's imputament, and, we really think, a singularly un- tions, or had any desire to lessen the just effect
ust attack, on the principles of this Journal. of his representations,. it would have been
Yet we take part, on the whole) with the au- enough for us, we believe, to have let them
thor:-and heartily wish him  success in the alone. For, without some such help as ours,
great object of vindicating his country from  the work really does not seem calculated to
unmerited aspersions, and trying to make us. make any great impression in this quarter of
in England, ashamed of the vices and defects the world. It is not only, as the author has
which he has taken the trouble to point out in himself ingenuously observed of it, a very
our national character and institutions. In this " clumsy book," heavily written and abominapart of the design we cordially concur-and bly printed,-but the only material part of it
shall at all times be glad to co-operate. But -the only part about which anybody can now
there is another part of it, and we are sorry to be supposed to care much, either here or in
say a principal and avowed part, of which we America —is overlaid and buried under a
cannot speak in terms of too strong regret and huge mass of historical compilation, which
reprobation —and that is, a design to excite would have little chance of attracting readers
and propagate among his countrymen, a gene- at the present moment, even if much better
ral animosity to the British name, by way of digested than it is in the volume before us.
counteracting, or rather revenging, the ani-   The substantial question is, what has been
mosity which he very erroneously supposes the true character and condition of the United
to be generally entertained by the English States since they became an independent naagainst them.                              tionr,-and what is likely to be their condition
That this is. in itself, and under any circum- in future? And to elucidate this question,
stances, an unworthy, an unwise, and even a the learned author has thought fit to premise
criminal object, we think we could demon- about two hundred very close-printed pages,
strate to the satisfaction of Mr. Walsh him- upon their merits as colonies, and the harsh
self, and all his reasonable adherents; but it treatment they then received from the mother
is better, perhaps, to endeavour, in the first country! Of this large historical sketch, we
plAe, to correct the misapprehensions, and cannot say, either that it is very correctly
dispel the delusions in which this disposition drawn, or very faithfully coloured. It prehas its foundation, and, at all events, to set sents us with no connected narrative, or interthem the example of perfect good humour and esting deduction of events-but is, in truth, a
fairness, in a discussion where the parties mere heap of indigested quotations from com
perhaps will never be entirely agreed; and mon books, of good and bad authority —inarwhere those who are now to be heard have the tificially cemented together by a loose and
strongest conviction of having been injuriously angry commentary. We are not aware, inmisrepresentedl.  If we felt any sorenesst in- deed, that there are in this part of the work
either any new statements, or any new views
* There is no one feeling-having public con. or opinions; the facts being mostly taken
cerns for its object-with which I have been so from Chalmers' Annals, and Burke's European
long and so deeply impressed, as that of the vast Settlements; and the authorities for the good
importance of our maintaining friendly, and even conduct and ill treatment of the colonies,
cordial relations, with the free, powerful, moral, and
industrious States of America:-a condition upon being chiefly the Parliamentary Debates and
which I cannot help thinking that not only our own Brougham's Colonial Policy.
freedom and prosperity, but that of the better part   But, in good truth, these historical recollecof the world, will ultimately be found to be more tions will go but a little way in determining
and more dependent. I give the first place, there- that great practical and most important quesfore, in this concluding divisioh of the work, to an tion, which it is Mr. W.'s intention as well
earnest and somewhat importunate exhortation to t           Mr. W    intention, as well
this effect-which I believe produced some impres- as ours, to discuss-What are, and what ought
sion at the time, and I trust may still help forward to be, the dispositions of England and Ameri-'he good end to which it was directed.     ca towards each other? And the general facts
621




22                             MISCELLANEOUS.
as to the first settlements and colonial history ter the general feeling, and to keep alive the
of the latter, in so far as they bear upon this memory of animosities that ought not to have
question, really do not admit of much dispute. been so long remembered. At last came peace,
The most important of those settlements were -and the spirit, we verily believe, but unforunquestionably founded by the friends of civil tunately not the prosperity of peace; and the
and religious liberty —-who, though somewhat distresses and commercial embarrassments of
precise and puritanical, and we must add, not both countries threw both into bad humour;
a little intolerant, were, in the main, a sturdy and unfortunately hurried both into a system
and sagacious race of people, not readily to of jealous and illiberal policy, by which that
be cajoled out of the blessings they had sought bad humour was aggravated, and received an
through so many sacrifices; and ready at all unfortunate direction.
times manfully and resolutely to assert them    In this exasperated state of the national
against all invaders. As to the mother coun- temper, and we do think, too much under its
try, again, without claiming for her any ro- influence, Mr. Walsh has now thought himmantic tenderness or generosity towards those self called upon to vindicate his country from
hardy offsets, we think we may say, that she the aspersions of English writers; and after
oppressed and domineered over them much arraigning them, generally, of the most in.
less than any other modern nation has done credible ignorance, and atrocious malignity
over any such settlements —that she allowed he proceeds to state, that the EDINBURGH and
them, for the most part, liberal charters and QUARTERLY Reviews, in particular, have been
constitutions, and was kind enough to leave incessantly labouring to traduce the character
them very much to themselves; —and although of America, and have lately broken out into
she did manifest, now and then, a disposition such "excesses of obloquy," as can no longer
to encroach on their privileges, their rights be endured; arid, in particular, that the proswere, on the whole, very tolerably respected pect of a large emigration to the United States
-so that they grew up undoubtedly to a state has thrown us all into such " paroxysms of
of much prosperity and a familiarity with spite and jealousy," that we have engaged in
freedom in all its divisions, which was not a scheme of systematic defamation that sets
only without parallel in any similar establish- truth and consistency alike at defiance. To
ment, but probably would not have been at- counteract this nefarious scheme, Mr. W. has
tained had they been earlier left to their own taken the field —not so much to refute as to
guidance and protection. This is all that we retort-not for the purpose of pointing out our
ask for England, on a review of her colonial errors, or exposing our unfairness. but, rather,
policy, and her conduct before the war; and if we understand him aright, of retaliating on
this, we think, no candid and well-informed us the unjust abuse we have been so long pourperson can reasonably refuse her.         ing on others. In his preface, accordingly, he
As to the War itself, the motives in which fairly avows it to be his intention to act on the
it originated, and the spirit in which it was offensive-to carry the war into the enemy's
carried on, it cannot now be necessary to say quarters, and to make reprisals upon the honany thing-or, at least, when we say that hav- our and character of England, in revenge for
ing once been begun, we think that it termi- the insults which, he will have it, her writers
nated as the friends of Justice and Liberty have heaped on his country. He therefore
must have wished it to terminate, we con- proposes to point out,-not the natural comceive that Mr. Walsh can require no other plexion, or genuine features, but "the sores
explanation. That this result, however, should and blotches of the British nation," to the
have left a soreness upon both sides, and scorn and detestation of his countrymen; and
especially on that which had not been soothed having assumed, that it is the " intention of
by success, is what all men must have ex- Great Britain to educate her youth in seftipected. But. upon the whole, we firmly be- ments of the most rancorous hostility to Amerlive that this was far slighter and less durable ica," he assures us, that this design will, and
than has generally been imagined; and was must be met with corresponding sentiments, on
likely very speedily to have been entirely ef- his side of the water!
faced, by those ancient recollections of kind-   Now, though we cannot applaud the genness and kindred which could not fail to recur, erosity, or even the common humanity of
and by that still more powerful feeling, to these sentiments-though we think that the
which every day was likely to add strength, American government and people, if at all
of their common interests, as free and as com- deserving of the eulogy which Mr. W. has
mercial countries, and of the substantial con- here bestowed upon them, might, like Cromformity of their national character, and of well, have felt themselves too strong to care
their sentiments upon most topics of public about paper shot-and though we cannot but
and of private right. The healing operation, feel that a more temperate and candid tone
however, of these causes was unfortunately would have carried more weight, am 4well as
thwarted and retarded by the heats that rose more magnanimity with it, we must yet begin
out of the French revolution, and the new in- by admitting, that America has cause of comterests and new relations which it appeared plaint; —and that nothing can be more despiror a time to create:-And the hostilities in cable and disgusting, than the scurrility with
which we were at last involved with America which she has been assailed by a portion of
herself-though the opinions of her people, as the press of this country-and that, disgracewell as our own, were deeply divided upon ful as these publications are, they speak the
both questions-served still further to embit- sense, if not of a considerable, at least of a




WALSH'S APPEAL.                                   623
conspicuous and active party in the nation.* ceived under our protection, as a refuge from
All this, and more than this, we have no wish, military despotism. Since that hope was lost;
and no intention to deny.  But we do wish it would have satisfied them to find that their
most anxiously to impress upon Mr. W. and republican institutions had made them poor
his adherents, to beware how they believe and turbulent, and depraved-incapable of
that this party speaks the sense of the British civil wisdom, regardless of national honour,
Nation-or that their sentiments on this, or on and as intractable to their own elected rulers
many other occasions, are in any degree in as they had been to their hereditary soveaccordance with those of the great body of reign. To those who were capable of sucn
our people. On the contrary, we are firmly wishes and such expectations, it is easy to
persuaded that a very large majority of the conceive, that the happiness and good order
nation, numerically considered, and a still of the United States-the wisdom  and aularger majority of the intelligent and enlight- thority of their government —and the unened persons whose influence and authority paralleled rapidity of their progress in wealth,
cannot fail in the long run to govern her coun- population, and refinement, must have been
cils, would disclaim all sympathy with any but an ungrateful spectacle; and most especipart of these opinions; and actually look on ally, that the splendid and steady success of
the miserable libels in question, not only with by far the most truly democratical governthe scorn and disgust to which Mr. W. would ment that ever was established in the world,
consign them, but with a sense of shame from  must have struck the most lively alarm into
which his situation fortunately exempts him, the hearts of all those who were anxious to
and a sorrow and regret, of which unfortu- have it believed that the People could never
nately he seems too little susceptible.    interfere in politics but to their ruin, and that
It is a fact which can require no proof, even the smallest addition to the democratical inin America, that there is a party in this coun- fluence, recognised in the theory at least of
try not friendly to political liberty, and deci- the British Constitution, must lead to the imdedly hostile to all extension of popular rights, mediate destruction of peace and property'
-which, if it does not grudge to its own peo- morality and religion.
ple the powers and privileges which are be-   That there are journals in this country, and
stowed on them by the Constitution, is at least journals too of great and deserved reputation
for confining their exercise within the narrow- in other respects, who have spoken the lan
est limits-which never thinks the peace and guage of the party we have now described,
well-being of society in danger from any thing and that in a tone of singular intemperance
but popular encroachments, and holds the and offence, we most readily admit. But need
only safe or desirable government to be that we tell Mr. W., or any ordinarily well-inof a pretty pure and unincumbered Monarchy, formed individual of his countrymen, that
supported by a vast revenue and a powerful neither this party nor their journalists can be
army, and obeyed by a people just enlightened allowed to stand for the People of England.
enough to be orderly and industrious, but no -that it is notorious that there is among that
way curious as to questions of right — and people another and a far more numerous
never presuming to judge of the conduct of party, whose sentiments are at all points optheir superiors.                           posed to those of the former, and who are,
Now, it is quite true that this Party dislikes by necessary consequence, friends to America,
Amnerica, and is apt enough to decry and in- and to all that Americans most value in their
sult her. Its adherents never have forgiven character'and institutions-who, as Englishthe success of her war of independence-the men, are more proud to have great and gloloss of a nominal sovereignty, or perhaps of a rious nations descended from them, than to
real power of vexing and oppressing-her have discontented colonies uselessly subjected
supposed rivalry in trade-and, above all, the to their caprice-who, as Freemen rejoice to
happiness and tranquillity which she now  see freedom advancing, with giant footsteps
enjoys under a republican form of govern- over the fairest regions of the earth, and na.
ment. Such a spectacle of democratical pros- tions flourishing exactly in proportion as they
perity is unspeakably mortifying to their high are free-and to know that when the drivelmonarchical principles, and is easily imagined ling advocates of hierarchy and legitimacy
to be dangerous to their security. Their first vent their paltry sophistries with some shadow
wish, and, for a time, their darling hope, was, of plausibility on the history of the Old World,
that the infant States would quarrel among they can now turn with decisive triumph to
themselves, and be thankful to be again re- the unequivocal example of the New —and
demonstrate the unspeakable advantages of
~ Things are much mended in this respect since free government, by the unprecedented pros1820; persons of rank and influence in this country perity of America! Such persons, too, can
now speaking of America, in private as well as in be as little suspected of entertaining  any
public, with infinitely greater respect and friendli-     as little suspected o f entertaining any
ness than was then common; and evincing, I think, jealousy of the commercial prosperity of the
a more general desire to be courteous to individuals Americans as of their political freedom; since
of that nation, than to foreigners of any other de- it requires but a very moderate share of unscription. There are still, however, publications derstanding to see, that the advantages of,among us, and some proceeding from quarters trade must always be mutual and reciprocal
where I should not have looked for them, that con.
tinue to keep up the tone alluded to in the text, and -that one great trading country is of necessity
consequently to do mischief, which it is still a duty the best customer to another-and that the
therefore to endeavour to counteract.      trade of America, consisting chiefly mn the ex.




624                             MISCELLANEOUS.
portation of raw produce and the importation he now complains for his country-and that
of manufactured commodities, is, of all others, from the same party scribblers, with whonm
the most beneficial to a country like England. we are here, somewhat absurdly, confounded
That such sentiments were naturally to be and supposed to be leagued. It is really, we
expected in a country circumstanced like think, some little presumption of our fairness,
England, no thinking man will deny. But that the accusations against us should be thus
Mr. Walsh has been himself among us; and contradictory-and that for one and the same
was, we have reason to believe, no idle or in- set of writings, we should be denounced by
curious observer of our men and cities; and the ultra-royalists of England as little better
we appeal with confidence to him, whether than American republicans, and by the ultrathese were not the prevailing sentiments patriots of America as the jealous defamers
among the intelligent and well educated of of her Freedom.
every degree? If he thinks as we do, as to   This, however, is of very little consequence.
their soundness and importance, he cannot What we wish to impress on Mr. W. is, that
well doubt that they must sooner or later in- they who daily traduce the largest and ablest
fluence the conduct even of our Court and part of the English nation, cannot possibly be
Cabinet. But, in the mean time, the fact is supposed to speak the sense of that nationcertain, that the opposite sentiments are con- and that their offences ought not, in reason, to
fined to a very small portion of the people of be imputed to her. If there be any reliance
Great Britain-and that the course of events, on the principles of human nature, the friends
as well as the force of reason, is every day of liberty in England must rejoice in the prosbringing them more and more into discredit. perity of America. Every selfish, concurs
Where then, we would ask, is the justice or with every generous motive, to add strength
the policy of seeking to render a quarrel Na- to this sympathy; and if any thing is certain
tional, when the cause of quarrel is only in our late internal history, it is that the
with an inconsiderable and declining party of friends of liberty are rapidly increasing among
the nation?-and why labour to excite ani- us;-partly from  increased intelligence —.mosity against a whole people, the majority of partly from  increased suffering and impawhom are, and must be, your sincere friends, tience-partly from mature conviction, and
merely because some prejudiced or inter- instinctive prudence and fear.
ested persons among them have disgusted the   There is another consideration, also arising
great body of their own countrymen, by the from the aspect of the times before us, which
senselessness and scurrility of their attacks should go far, we think, at the present moupon yours?                               ment, to strengthen those bonds of affinity.
The Americans are extremely mistaken, It is impossible to look to the state of the Old
too, if they suppose that they are the only World without seeing, or rather feeling, that
persons who are abused by the only party that there is a greater and more momentous condoes abuse them. They have merely their test impending, than ever before agitated
share of that abuse along with all the friends human society. In Germany-in Spain —in
and the advocates of Liberty in every part of France-in Italy, the principles of Reform
the world. The Constitutionalists of France, and Liberty are visibly arraying themselves
including the King and many of his ministers, for a final struggle with the principles of Esmeet with no better treatment;-and those tablished Abuse,-Legitimracy, or Tyrannywho hold liberal opinions in this country, are or whatever else it is called, by its friends or
assailed with still greater acrimony and fierce- enemies. Even in England, the more modiness. Let Mr. Walsh only look to the lan- fled elements of the same principles are stirguage held by our ministerial journals for the ring and heaving, around, above and beneath
last twelvemonth, on the subjects of Reform  us, with unprecedented force, activity, and
and Alarm-and observe in what way not terror; and every thing betokens an approachonly the whole class of our own reformers ing crisis in the great European commonand coniciliators, but the names and persons wealth, by the result of which the future
of such men as Lords Lansdowne, Grey. Fitz- character of its governments, and the strucwilliam, and Erskine, Sir James Mackintosh, ture and condition of its society, will in all
and Messrs. Brougham, Lambton, Tierney, probability be determined. The ultimate reand others, are dealt with by these national sult, or the course of events that are to lead
oracles, -and he will be satisfied that his to it. we have not the presumption to predict.
countrymen neither stand alone in the mis- The struggle may be long or transitory-san.
fortune of which he complains so bitterly, guinary or bloodless; and it may end in a
nor are subjected to it in very bad company. great and signal amelioration of all existing
We, too, he may probably be aware, have had institutions, or in the establishment of one vast
our portion of the abuse which he seems to federation of military despots, domineering as
think reserved for America-and, what is a usual in the midst of sensuality, barbarism,
little remarkable, for being too much her and gloom. The issues of all these things
advocate. For what we have said of her pre- are in the hand of Providence and the womb
sent power and future greatness-her wisdom  of time! and no human eye can yet foresee
in peace and her valour in war-and of all the the fashion of their accomplishment.  But
invaluable advantages of her representative great changes are evidently preparing; and
system-her freedom from taxes, sinecures, in fifty years-most probably in a far shorter
and standing armies-we have been subjected time-some material alterations must have
to far more virulent attacks than any of which taken place in most of the established govern



WALSH'S APPEAL.                                 625
ments of Europe, and the rights of the Euro- rope for the last two hundred years. Had
pean nations been established on a surer and England iot been free, the worst despotism
more durable basis. Half a century cannot in Europe would have been far worse than it
pass away in growing discontents on the part is, at this moment. If our world had been
of the people, and growing fears and precau- parcelled out among arbitrary monarchs, they
tions on that of their rulers. Their preten- would have run a race of oppression and ensions must at last be put clearly in issue; and couraged each other in all sorts of abuses.
abide the settlement of force, or fear, or reason. But the existence of one powerful and flourLooking back to what has already happened ishing State, where justel maxims were adin the world, both recently and in ancient mitted, has shamed them out of their worst
times, we can scarcely doubt that the cause of enormities, given countenance and encourageLiberty will be ultimately triumphant. But ment to the claims of their oppressed subjects,
through what trials and sufferings-what mar- and gradually taught their rulers to undertyrdoms and persecutions it is doomed to stand, that a certain measure of liberty was
work out its triumph —we profess ourselves not only compatible with national greatness
unable to conjecture. The disunion of the and splendour, but essential to its support.
lower and the higher classes, which was In the days of Queen Elizabeth, England was
gradually disappearing with the increasing the champion.and asylum of Religious Freeintelligence of the former, but has lately been dom-in those of King William, of National
renewed by circumstances which we cannot Independence. If a less generous spirit has
now stop to examine, leads, we must confess, prevailed in her Cabinet since the settled preto gloomy auguries as to the character of this dominance of Tory principles in her councils,
contest; and fills us with apprehensions, that still, the effects of her Parliamentary Oppoit may neither be peaceful nor brief. But in sition-the artillery of her Free Press-the
this, as in every other respect, we conceive voice, in short, of her People, which Mr. W.
that much will depend on the part that is has so strangely mistaken, have not been
taken by America; and on the dispositions without their effects; —and, though some flawhich she may have cultivated towards the grant acts of injustice have stained her recent
different parties concerned. Her great and annals, we still venture to hope that the dread
growing wealth and population —her univer- of the British Public is felt as far as Peterssal commercial relations-her own impregna- burgh and Vienna; and would fain indulge
ble security-and her remoteness from the ourselves with the belief. that it may yet scare
scene of dissension-must give her prodigious some Imperial spoiler from a part of his prey,
power and influence in such a crisis, either as and lighten, if not break, the chains of many
a mediator or umpire, or, if she take a part. as distant captives.
an auxiliary and ally. That she must wish   It is in aid of this generous, though perhaps
well to the cause of Freedom, it would be in- decaying influence-it is as an associate or
decent, and indeed impious, to doubt-and successor in the noble office of patronising ai:
that she should take an active part against it, protecting General Liberty, that we now call
is a thing not even tb be imagined:-But she upon America to throw from her the memory
may stand aloof a cold and disdainful spec- of all petty differences and nice offences, and
tator; and, counterfeiting a prudent indiffer- to unite herself cordially with the liberal and
ence to scenes that neither can nor ought to enlightened part of the English nation, at a
be indifferent to her, may see, unmoved, the season when their joint efforts may be al little
prolongation of a lamentable contest, which enough to crown the good cause with success
her interference might either have prevented, and when their disunion will give dreadful
or brought to a speedy and happy termination. advantages to the enemies of improvement
And this course she will most probably follow, and reform. The example of America has
if she allows herself to conceive antipathies to already done much for that cause; and the
nations for the faults of a few calumnious in- very existence of such a country, under such
dividuals: And especially if; upon grounds so a government, is a tower of strength, and a
trivial, she should nourish such an animosity standard of encouragement, for all who may
towards England, as to feel a repugnance to hereafter have to struggle for the restoration
make common cause with her, even in behalf or the extension of their rights. It shows
of their common inheritance of freedom.   within what wide limits popular institutions
Assuredly, there is yet no other country in are safe and practicable; and what a large
Europe where the principles of liberty, and infusion of democracy is consistent with the
he rights and duties of nations, are so well authority of government, and the good order
inderstood as with us —or in which so great a of society. But her influence, as well as her
iumber of men, qualified to write, speak, and example, will be wanted in the crisis which
Let with authority, are at all times ready to seems to be approaching:-and that influence
ake a reasonable, liberal, and practical view  must be paralysed and inoperative, if she'f those principles and duties. The Govern- shall think it a duty to divide herself from
ient, indeed, has not always been either wise England; to look with jealousy upon her pror generous, to its own or to other countries;-  ceedings, and to judge unfavourably of all the
ut it has partaken, or at least has been con- parties she contains. We do not ask her to'olled by the general spirit of freedom; and think well of that party, whether in power or
e have no hesit'ation in saying, that the Free out of it, which has always insulted and reonstitution of England has been a blessing viled her, because she is free and independ.id protection to the remotest nations of Eu- ent, and democratic and prosperous: —But we
40




826                            MISCELLANEOUS.
do confidently lay claim  to her favourable ed, we shall most certainly feel no anxiety te
opinion for that great majority of the nation justify these expressions, —nor any feac that,
which has always been opposed to this party with the liberal and reasonable part of the
— which has partaken with her in the honour nation to which they relate, our avowal of re.
of its reproaches, and is bound, by every con- gret for having employed them will not be
sideration of interest and duty, consistency received as a sufficient atonement. Even in
and common sense, to maintain her rights and private life, and without the provocation of
her reputation, and to promote and proclaim  public controversy, there are not many men
her prosperity.                          who, in half the time we have mentioned, do
To which of these parties we belong, and to not say some things to the slight or disparagewhiml our pen has been devoted, we suppose ment of their best friends; which, if all " set
it is unnecessary for us to announce, even in in a note-book. conned and got by rote," it
America; and therefore, without recapitulat- might be hard to answer: —and yet, among
ing any part of what has just been said, we people of ordinary sense or temper, such things
think we may assume, in the outset, that the never break any squares-and the dispositions
charge exhibited against us by Mr. W. is, at are judged of by the general tenor of one's
least, and on its face, a very unlucky and im- life and conduct, and not by a set of peevish
probable one-that we are actuated by jeal- phrases, curiously culled and selected out of
ousy and spite towards America, and have his whole conversation. But we really do not
joined in a scheme of systematic defamation, think that we shall very much need the benein order to diffuse among our countrymen a fit of this plain consideration, and shall progeneral sentiment of hostility and dislike to ceed straightway to our answer.
her! Grievous as this charge is, we should   The sum of it is this-That, in point of fact,
scarcely have thought it necessary to reply to we have spoken far more good of America
it, had not the question appeared to us to re- than ill-that in nine instances out of ten,
late to something of far higher importance where we have mentioned her, it has been
than the character of our Journal, or the jus- for praise-and that in almost all that is essen
tice or injustice of an imputation on the prin- tial or of serious importance, we have spoken
ciples of a few anonymous writers. In that nothing but good; —while our censures have
case, we should have left the matter, as all been wholly confined to matters of inferior
the world knows we have uniformly left it in note, and generally accompanied with an
other cases, to be determined by our readers apology for their existence, and a prediction
upon the evidence before them. But Mr. W. of their speedy disappearance.
has been pleased to do us the honour of identify-   Whatever we have written seriously and
ing us with the great Whig party of this coun- with earnestness of America, has been with
try, or, rather, of considering us as the expo- a view to conciliate towards her the respect
nents of those who support the principles of and esteem of our own country; and we have
liberty, as it is understood in England:-and scarcely named her, in any deliberate manto think his case sufficiently made out against ner, except for the purpose of impressing upon
the Nation at large, if he can prove that both our readers the signal prosperity she has enthe EDINBURGH and the QUARTERLY REVIEW  joyed —the magical rapidity of her advances
had given proof of deliberate malice and in wealth and population-and the extraordishameful unfairness on the subject of Ameri- nary power and greatness to which she is evica. NOw this, it must be admitted, gives the dently destined. On these subjects we have
question a magnitude that would not other- held but one language, and one tenor of senwise belong to it; and makes what might in timent; and have never missed an opportuitself be a mere personal or literary alterca- nity of enforcing our views on our readerstion, a matter of national moment and con- and that not feebly, coldly, or reluctantly but
cernment. If a sweeping conviction of mean with all the earnestness and energy of which
jealousy and rancorous hostility is to be en- we were capable; and we do accordingly take
tered up against the whole British nation, and upon us to say, that in no European publicaa corresponding spirit to be conjured up in the tion have those views been urged with the
breast of America, because it is alleged that same force or frequency, or resumed at every
the Edinburgh Review, as well as the Quar- season, and under every change of circumterly, has given proof of such dispositions,-  stances, with such steadiness and uniformity.
-then it becomes a question of no mean or or- We have been equally consistent and equally
dinary importance, to determine whether this explicit, in pointing out the advantages which
charge has been justly brought against that that country has derived from the extent of
unfortunate journal, and whether its accuser her elective system-the lightness of her pubhas made out enough to entitle him to a ver- lic burdens-the freedom of her press-and
dict leading to such consequences.      the independent spirit of her people. The
It will be understood, that we deny alto- praise of the Government is implied in the
gether the justice of the charge:-But we praise of these institutions; but we have not
wish distinctly to say in the beginning, that if omitted upon every occasion to testify, in exit should appear to any one that, in the course press terms. to its general wisdom, equity, and
of a great deal of hasty writing, by a variety prudence. Of the character of the people,
of hands, in the course of twenty long years, too, in all its more serious aspects, we have
some rash or petulant expressions had been spoken with the same undeviating favour;
admitted, at which the national pride of our and have always represented them as brave,
Transatlantic brethren might be justly offend- enterprising, acute, industrious, and patriotic.




WALSH'S APPEAL.                                 627
We need not load our pages with quotations agreeable than those of Europe-the lower
to prove the accuracy of this representation orders as impertinently inquisitive, and the
-our whole work is full of them; and Mr. whole as too vain of their country; 4th, and
W. himself has quoted enough, both in the finally, That we have reproached them too
outset of his book and in the body of it, to bitterly with their negro slavery.
satisfy even such as may take their informa-   These, we think, are the whole, and certainly
tion from him, that such have always been they are the chief, of the charges against us;
our opinions. Mr. W. indeed seems to ima- and, before saying any thing as to the particuglue, that other passages; which he has cited, lars, we should just like to ask, whether, if
import a contradiction or retractation of these; they were all admitted to be true, they would
and that we are thus involved. not only in the afford any sufficient grounds, especially when
guilt of malice, but the awkwardness of in- set by the side of the favourable representaconsistency. Now this, as we take it, is one tions we have made with so much more earnof the radical and almost unaccountable errors estness on points of much more importance,
with which the work before us is chargeable. for imputing to their authors, and to tS.e whole
There is no such retractation, and no contradic- body of their countrymen, a systernatic detion. We can of course do no more, on a point sign to make America odious and despicable
like thisthan make a distinct asseveration; but, in the eyes of the world?  This charge, we
after having perused Mr. W.'s book, and with will confess, a-pears to us most extravagant
a pretty correct knowledge of the Review, we -and, when the facts already stated are taken
do say distinctly, that there is not to be found into view, altogether ridiculous. Though we
in either a single passage inconsistent, or at are the friends and well-wishers of the Ameriall at variance with the sentiments to which cans-though we think favourably, and even
we have just alluded. We have never spoken highly, of many things in their institutions,
but in one way of the prosperity and future government, and character, —we are not their
greatness of America, and of the importance stipendiary Laureates or blind adulators; and,
of cultivating amicable relations with her-  must insist on our right to take notice of what
never but in one way of the freedom, cheap- we conceive to be their errors and defects,
ness, and general wisdom of her government with the same freedom which we use to our
-never but in one way of the bravery, intelli- own and to all other nations. It has already
gence, activity, and patriotism of her people. been shown, that we have by no means conThe points on which Mr. W. accuses us of fined ourselves to this privilege of censure;
malice and unfairness, all relate, as we shall and the complaint seems to be, that we should
see immediately, to other and far less con- ever have presumed to use it at all. We really
siderable matters.                        do not understand this. We have spoken much
Assuming, then, as we must now do, that more favourably of their government and inupon the subjects that have been specified, stitutions than we have done of our own. We
our testimony has been eminently and exclu- have criticised their authors with at least as
sively favourable to America and that we have much indulgence, and spoken of their national
neverceased earnestly to recommend the most character in terms of equal respect: But becordial and friendly relations with her, how, cause we have pointed out certain undeniable
it may be asked, is it possible that we should defects, and laughed at some indefensible abhave deserved to be classed among the chief surdities. we are accused of the most partial
and most malignant of her calumniators, or and unfair nationality, and represented as enaccused of a design to excite hostility to her gaged in a conspiracy to bring the whole nation
in the body of our nation! and even repre- into disrepute! Even if we had the misforsented as making reciprocal hostility a point tune to differ in opinion with Mr. W., or the
of duty in her, by the excesses of our oblo- majority of his countrymen, on most of the
quy? For ourselves, we profess to be as little points to which our censure has been directed,
able to answer this question, as the most ig- instead of having his substantial admission of
norant of our readers;- but we shall lay be- their justice in most instances, this, it humbly
fore them some account of the proofs on which appears to us, would neither be a good ground
Mr. W. relies for our condemnation; and for questioning our good faith, nor a reasoncheerfully submit to any sentence which these able occasion for denouncing a general hos.
may seem to justify. There are a variety of tility against the country to which we belong.
counts in our indictment; but, in so far as we Men may differ conscientiously in their taste
have been able to collect, the heads of our in literature and manners, and in their opinions
offending are as follows.  1st, That we have as to the injustice or sinfulness of domestic
noticed, with uncharitable and undue severity, slavery; and may express their opinions in
the admitted want of indigenous literature in public —or so at least we have fancied-withAmerica, and the scarcity of men of genius; out being actuated by spite or malignity. But
2d, as an illustration of that charge, That we a very slight examination of each of the artihave laughed too ill-naturedly at the affecta- cles of charge will show still more clearly
tions of Joel Barlow's Columbiad, made an un- upon what slight grounds they have been
fair estimate of the merits of Marshall's His- hazarded, and how much more of spleen than
tory, and Adams' Letters, and spoken illiber- of reason there is in the accusation.
ally of the insignificance of certain American   1. Upon the first head, Mr. W. neither does,
Philosophical Transactions; 3dly, That we nor can deny, that our statements are perfectly
have represented the manners of the fashion- correct. The Americans have scarcely any
able society of America as less polished and literature of their own growth-and scarcely




628                             MISCELLANEOUS
any authors of celebrity.@  The fact is too great readers as the English, and take off il
remarkable not to have been noticed by all mense editions of all our popular works; —
who have occasion to speak of them; —and and while we have repeatedly stated the
we have only to add, that, so far from bringing causes that have probably withheld them
it forward in an insulting or invidious manner. from  becoming authors in great numbers
we have never, we believe, alluded to it with- themselves. we confidently deny that we have
out adding such explanations as in candour ever represented them as illiterate, or negwe thought due, and as were calculated to ligent of learning.
take from it all shadow of offence. So early   2. As to our particular criticisms on Armerias in our third Number (printed in 1802), we can works, we cannot help feeling that our
observed that "Literature was one of those justification will be altogether as easy as in
finer Milanufactures which a new country will the case of our general remarks on their rarity.
always find it better to import than to raise;" Nothing, indeed, can more strikingly illustrate
-and, after showing that the want of leisure the unfortunate prejudice or irritation under
and hereditary wealth naturally lead to this which Mr. W. has composed this part of his
arrangement, we added, that " the Americans work, than the morose and angry remarks he
had shown abundance of talent, wherever in- has made on our very innocent and goodducements had been held out for its exertion; natured critique of Barlow's Columbiad. It is
that their party-pamphlets were written with very true that we have laughed at its strange
great keenness and spirit; and that their ora- neologisms, and pointed out some of its other
tors frequently displayed a vehemence, cor- manifold faults. But is it possible for any one
rectness, and animation, that would command seriously to believe, that this gentle castigation
the admiration of any European audience." was dictated by national animosity — or does
Mr. W. has himself quoted the warm testi- Mr. W. really believe that, if the same work
mony we bore, in our twelfth Volume, to the had been published in England, it would have
merits of the papers published under the title met with a milder treatment? If the book was
of The Federalist:-And in our sixteenth, we so bad, however, he insinuates, why take any
observe, that when America once turned her notice of it, if not to indulge your malignity.
attention to letters, "we had no doubt that To this we answer, first, That a handsome
her authors would improve and multiply, to a quarto of verse, from a country which prodegree that would make all our exertions duces so few, necessarily attracted our attennecessary to keep the start we have of them." tion more strongly than if it had appeared
In a subsequent Number, we add the import- among ourselves; secondly, That its faults
ant remark, that " among them, the men who were of so peculiar and amusing a kind, as to
write bear no proportion to those who read;" call for animadversion rather than neglect;
and that, though they have as yet but few  and, thirdly, what no reader of Mr. W.'s
native authors, "the individuals are innumer- remarks would indeed anticipate, That, in
able who make use of literature'to improve spite of these faults, the book actually had
their understandings, and add to their happi- merits that entitled it to notice; and that a
ness."  The very same ideas are expressed very considerable part of our article is acin a late article, which seems to have given cordingly employed in bringing those merits
Mr. W. very great offence-though we can into view. In common candour, we must say,
discover nothing in the passage in question. Mr. W. should have acknowledged this, when
except the liveliness of the style, that can complaining of the illiberal severity with
afford room for misconstruction. " Native lite- which Mr. Barlow's work had been treated.
rature," says the Reviewer, "the Americans For, the truth is, that we have given it fully
have none: It is all imported. And why as much praise as he, or any other intelligent
should they write books, when a six weeks' American, can say it deserves; and have been
passage brings them, in their own tongue, our at some pains in vindicating the author's sen.
sense, science, and genius, in bales and hogs- timents from misconstruction, as well as res
heads?"-Now, what is the true meaning of cuing his beauties from neglect. Yet Mr. W
this, but the following —' The Americans do is pleased to inform his reader, that the work
not write books: but it must not be inferred, " seems to have been committed to the Mo
from this, that they are ignorant or indifferent mus of the fraternity for especial diversion;"
about literature.-The true reason is, that they and is very surly and austere at " the exquisite
get books enough from us in their own lan- jokes" of which he says it consists. We cerguage; and are, in this respect, just in the tainly do not mean to dispute with him about
condition of any of our great trading or manu- the quality of our jokes:-though we take
facturing districts at home, within the locality leave to appeal to a gayer critic-or to himof which there is no encouragement for authors self in better humour —from his present sento settle, though there is at least as much tence of reprobation. But he should have rereading and thinking as in other places." collected, that, besides stating, in distinct
This has all along been our meaning-and terms, that "his versification was generally
we think it has been clearly enough express- both soft and sonorous, and that there were
ed. The Americans, in fact, are at least as many passages of tr'h and vigorous descrip.
tion, and some that might lay claim even to
* This might require more qualification now, the praise of magnificence,"' the critics had
than in 1820, when it was written-or rather, than summed up their observations by saying,
in 1810, befoie which almost all the reviews con. " that the author's talents were evidently retaining the assertion had appeared.       spectable; and that, severely as they had




WALSH'S APPEAL.                                    629
been obiiged to speak of his taste and his dic- warmest friends of America, and the warmest
tion, in a great part of the volume; they con- admirers of American virtue, would wish us
sidered him as a giant in comparison with to speak. We shall add but one short passage
many of the paltry and puling rhymsters who as a specimen of the real tone of this insolent
disgraced our English literature by their oc- and illiberal production.
casional success; and that, if he would pay
t  "History has no other example of so happy an
some attention to purity of style and simpl     History has no other example of so happy an
some attenotion to purity of style and simpli- issue to a revolution, consummated by a long civil
city of composition, they had no doubt that he war. Indeed it seems to be very near a maxim in
might produce something which English poets political philosophy, that a free government cannot
would envy, and English critics applaud."    be obtained where a long employment of military
Are there any traces here, we would ask, force has been necessary to establish it. In the
of national spite and hostilitye -or is it not case of America, -however, the military power was,
true, that our account of the poem is on the by a rare felicity, disarmed by that very influence
which makes a revolutionary army so formidable
whole, not only fair but favourable, and the to liberty: For the images of Grandeur and Power
tone of our remarks as good-humoured and -those meteor lights that are exhaled in the stormy
friendly as if the author had been a whiggish atmosphere of a revolution, to allure the ambiScotchman? As to i" Marshall's Life of Wash- tious and dazzle the weak-made no impression
ington," we do not think that Mr. W. differs on the firm and virtuous soul of the American
very much from  the Reviewers. He says,
"he does not mean to affirm that the story of   As to Adams' Letters on Silesia, the case is
their Revolution has been told absolutely well nearly the same.  We certainly do not run
by this author-;" and we, after complaining of into extravagant compliments to the author,
its being cold, heavy, and tedious, have dis- because he happens to be the son of the
tinctly testified, that "it displayed industry, American President: But he is treated with
good sense, and, in so far as we could judge, sufficient courtesy and respect: and Mr. W.
laudable impartiality; and that the style, cannot well deny that the book is very fairly
though neither elegant nor impressive, was rated, according to its intrinsic merits. There
yet, upon the whole, clear and manly."  Mr. is no ridicule, nor any attempt at sneering,
W., however, thinks that nothing but national throughout the article. The work is described
spite and illiberality can account for our say- as " easy and pleasant, and entertaining,"-as
ing,  that Mr. M. must not promise himself containing some excellent remarks on Educaa reputation commensurate with the dimen- tion,-and indicating, throughout, "that setsions of his work;" and "that what passes tled attachment to freedom which is worked
with him for dignity, will, by his readers, be into the constitution of every man of virtue
pronounced dulness and frigidity:7 And then who has the fortune to belong to a free and
he endeavours to show, that a passage in prosperous conmmunity.11 As to the style, we
which we say that " Mr. Marshall's narrative remark; certainly in a very good-natured and
is deficient in almost every thing that con- inoffensive manner, that "though it is restitutes historical excellence," is glaringly in- markably free from  those affectations and
consistent with the favourable sentence we corruptions of phrase that overrun the comhave transcribed in the beginning; not see- positions of his country, a few national, pering, or not choosing to see, that in the one haps we might still venture to call them proplace we are speaking of the literary merits vincial, peculiarities, might be detected;
of the work -as an historical composition, and and then we add, in a style which we do not
in the other of its value in respect of the think can appear impolite, even to a minister
views and information it supplies.  But the plenipotentiary, "that if men of birth and
question is not, whether our criticism is just education in that other England which they
and able, or otherwise; but whether it indi- are building up in the West, will not dilicates any little spirit of detraction and national gently study the great authors who fixed and
rancour-and this it would seem not very dif- purified the language of our common fore.
ficult to answer. If we had taken the occasion fathers, we must soon lose the only badge
of this publication to gather together all the that is still worn of our consanguinity."  Unfoolish, and awkward, and disreputable things less the Americans are really to set up a
that occurred in the conduct of the revolu- new  standard of speech, we conceive that
tionary councils and campaigns, and to make these remarks are perfectly just and unanthe history of this memorable struggle, a swxerable; and we are sure, at all events, tnat
vehicle for insinuations against the courage nothing can be farther from a spirit of insult
or integrity of many who took part in it, we or malevolence.
might, with reason, have been subjected to    Our critique on the volume of American
the censure we now confidently repel.  But Transactions is perhaps more liable to objecthere is not a word in the article that looks tion; and, on looking back to it, we at once
that way; and the only ground for the impu- admit that it contains some petulant and rash
tation is, that we have called Mr. Marshall's expressions which had better have been omitbook dull and honest, accurate and heavy, ted —and that its gefteral tone is less liberal
valuable and tedious, while neither Mr. Walsh, and courteous than might have been desired.
Ilor any body else, ever thought or said any It is remarkable, however, that this, which )s
thing else of it. It is his style only that we by far the most offensive of our discussions
tbjec t to. Of his general sentiments-of the, on American literature, is one of the earliest,
cond':ct and character of his hero-and of and that the sarcasms with which it is seatHe prospects of his country, we speak as the soned have  never been  repeated-a fact




630.                            MISCELLANEOUS.
which, with many others, may serve to ex- ers and remote Irish. But slight as these
pose the singular inaccuracy with which Mr. charges are, we may admit. that Mr. W. would
W. nas been led, throughout his work, to as- have had some reason to complain if they had
sert that we began our labours with civility included all that awe had ever said of the great
and kindness towards his country, and have bulk of his nation. But the truth is, that we
only lately changed our tone, and joined its have all along been much more careful to noinveterate enemies in all the extravagance of tice their virtues than their faults) and have lost
abuse. The substance of our criticism, it does no fair opportunity of speaking well of them.
not seem tobe disputed, was just-the volume In our twenty-third Number, we have said
containing very little that was at all interest-': The great body of the American people is
ing, and a good part of it being composed in better educated, and more comfortably situated,
a style very ill suited for suclr a publication.  than the bulk of any European community;
Such are the perversions of our critical and possesses all the accomplishments that
office, which Mr. W. can only explain on the are anywhere to be found in persons of the
supposition of national jealousy'and malice. same occupation and condition."  And more
As proofs of an opposite disposition, we beg recently, "The Americans are about as polleave just to refer to our lavish and reiterated ished as ninety-nine out of one hundred of our
praise'of the writings of Franklin-to our own countrymen, in the upper ranks; and
nigh and distinguished testimony to the merits quite as moral, and well educated, in the lower
of The Federalist-to the terms of commend- Their virtues too are such as we ought to adation in which we have spoken of the Journal mire; for they are those on which we value
of Messrs. Lewis and Clarke; and in an espe- ourselves most highly." We have never said
cial manner, to the great kindness with which any thing inconsistent with this: —and if this
we have treated a certain American pamphlet be to libel a whole nation, and to villify and
published at Philadelphia and London in 1810, degrade them in comparison of ourselves, we
and of which we shall have a word to say have certainly been guilty of that enormity.
hereafter,-though each and all of those per-   As for the manners of the upper classes, we
formances touched much more nearly on sub- have really said very little about them. and
jects of national contention, and were far can scarcely recollect having given any posimore apt to provoke feelings of rivalry, than tive opinion on the subject. We have lately
any thing in the Philosophical Transactions, quoted, with warm approbation, Captain Hall's
or the tuneful pages of the Columbiad.    strong and very respectable testimony to their
3. We come now to the ticklish Chapter of agreeableness-and certainly have never conManners; on which, though we have said less tradicted it on our own authority. We have
than on any other, we suspect we have given made however certain hypothetical and conmore offence-and, if possible, with less rea- jectural observations, which, we gather from
son. We may despatch the lower orders first, Mr. W., have given some offence-we must
before we come to the people of fashion. The say, we think, very unreasonably. We have
charge here is, that we have unjustly libelled said, for example, as already quoted, that " the
those persons, by saying, in one place. that Americans are about as polished as ninetythey were too much addicted to spirituous li- nine in one hundred of our own countrymen
quors; in another, that they were rudely in- in the upper ranks."  Is it the reservation of
quisitive; and in a third, that they were this inconsiderable fraction in our own favour
absurdly vain of their free constitution, and that is resented? Why, our very seniority, we
offensive in boasting of it. Now, we may have think, might have entitled us to this precebeen mistaken in making these imputations; dence: and we must say that our monarchy
but we find them stated in the narrative of -our nobility-our greater proportion of heevery traveller who has visited their country; reditary wealth, and our closer connection with
and most of them noticed by the better wri- the old civilised world, might have justified a
ters among themselves, from  Franklin to higher percentage. But we will not dispute
Cooper inclusive.  We have noticed them, with Mr. W. even upon this point. Let him
too, without bitterness or insult, and generally set down the fraction, if he pleases, to the
in the words of the authors upon wMhose au- score merely of our national partiality; —and
thority they are stated. Neither are the im- he must estimate that element very far indeed
putations themselves very grievous, or such below its ordinary standard, if he does not find
as can be thought to bespeak any great ma- it sufficient for it, without the supposition of
lignity in their authors. Their inquisitiveness, intended insult or malignity. Was there ever
and the boast of their freedom, are but ex- any great nation that did not prefer its own
cesses of laudable qualities; and intemper- manners to those of any of its neighbours?ance, though it is apt to lead further, is, in or can Mr. W. produce another instance in
itself, a sin rather against prudence than mo- which it was ever before allowed, that a rival
rality. Mr. W. is infinitelyoffended, too, be- came so near as to be within one hundreth
cause we have said that " the people of the of its own excellence?
Western States are very hospitable to strangers   But there is still something worse than this.
-because they are seldom troubled with them, Understanding that the most considerable per3nd because they have always plenty of maize sons in the chief cities of America, were their
and hams;" as if this were not the rationale opulent merchants, we conjectured that their
of all hospitality among the lower orders, society was probably much of the same desthroughout the world,-and familiarlyapplied, -cription with that of Liverpool, Manchester
among ourselves, to the case of our Highland- and Glasgow:-And does Mr. V. 1 eally thini




WALSH'S APPEAL.                                     4a,
there is any disparagement in this?-Does he    Now, is there really any matter of offence
not know that these places have been graced: in this — In the first place, is it not substanfor generations, by some of the most deserving tially true?-in the next place, is it not mildly
and enlightened citizens, and some of the most and respectfully stated? Is it not true: that
learned and accomplished men that have ever the greater part of those who compose the
adorned our nation  - Does he not know that higher society of the American cities, have
Adam Smith, and Reid, and Miller, spent their raised themselves to opulence by commercial
happiest days in Glasgow; that Roscoe and pursuits — and is it to be imagined that, in
Currie illustrated the society of Liverpool-  America alone, this is n6t to produce its usual
and Priestley and Ferriar and Darwin that of effects upon the style and tone of society?
Manchester 3 The wealth and skill and enter- As families become old, and hereditary wealth
prise of all.the places is equally indisputable comes to be the portion of many, it cannot but
-and we confess we are yet to learn in which happen that a change of manners will take
of the elements of respectability they can be place; —and is it an insult to suppose that this
imagined to be inferior to New York, or Bal- change will be an improvement? Surely they
timore, or Philadelphia.                     cannot be perfect, both as they are, and as
But there is yet another passage'in the Re- they are to be; and, while it seems impossiview which Mr. W. has quoted as insulting ble to doubt that a considerable change is inand vituperative; —for such a construction of evitable, the offence seems to be, that it is
which we confess ourselves still less able to expected to be for the better! It is impossible,
divine a reason.  It is part of an honest and we think, that Mr. W. can seriously imagine
very earnest attempt to overcome the high that the manners of any country upon earth
monarchical prejudices of a part of our own can be so dignified and refined-or their tone
country against the Americans, and notices of conversation and society so good, when the
this objection to their manners only collaterally most figuring persons come into company from
and hypothetically. Mr. W. needs not be told  the desk and the counting-house, as when
that all courtiers and zealots of monarchy im- they pass only from one assembly to another,
pute rudeness and vulgarity to republicans. and have had no other study or employment
The French used to describe an inelegant from  their youth up, than to render society
person as having "Les manidres dWun Suisse, agreeable, and to cultivate those talents and
En Hollande civilise;7  and the Court faction manners which give its charm  to polite con
among ourselves did not omit this reproach versation. If there are any persons in America
when we went to war with the Americans. who seriously dispute the accuracy of these
To expose the absurdity of such an attack, opinions, we are pretty confident that they
we expressed ourselves in 1814 as follows.   will turn out to be those whom the rest of the
country would refer to in illustration of their
"The complaint respecting America is, that there truth.  The truly polite, we are persuaded,
are no people of fashion,-that their column still will admit the case to be pretty much as we
wants its Corinthian capital, or, in other words, that have stated it.  The upstarts alone will conthose who are rich and idle, have not yet existed so
long, or in such numbers, as to have brought to full tend for their present perfection. If we have
perfection that system of ingenious trifling and ele- really been so unfortunate as to give any ofgant dissipation, by means of which it has been dis- fence by our observations, we suspect that
covered that wealth and leisure may be most agree- offence will be greater at Cincinnati than at
ably disposed of. Admitting the fact to be so, and New York, -and not quite so sight at New
in a country where there is no court, no nobility, York as at Philadelphia or Boston.
and no monument or tradition of chivalrous usages,
-and where, moreover, the greatest number of   But we have no desire to pursue this topic
those who are rich and powerful have raised them- any further —nor any interest indeed to conselves to that eminence by mercantile industry, we vince those who may not be already satisfied.
really do not see how it could well be otherwise; If Mr. W. really thinks us wrong in the opinwe would still submit, that this is no lawful cause ions we have now expressed, we are willing
either for national contempt, or for national hostility.
It is a peculiarity in the structure of society among for the present to be thought so: But surely
that people, which, we take it, can only give offence we have said enough to show that we had
to their visiting acquaintance; and, while it does us plausible grounds for those opinions; and
no sort of harm while it subsists, promises, we think, surely, if we did entertain them, it was imvery soon to disappear altogether, and no longer to possible to express them in a manner less ofafflict even our imagination. The number of in- fensive. di d not even recur to the tpic
viduals born to the enjoyment of hereditary wealthid not even recur to the topic
is, or at least was, daily increasing in that country; spontaneously-but occasionally took it up in
and it is impossible that their multiplication (with a controversy on behalf of America, with a
all the models of European refinement before them, party of our own countrymen. What we said
and all the advantages resulting from a free govern.  was not addressed to America-but said of
ment and a general system of good education) should her  and  most indisputably  with friendly
fail, within a very short period, to give birth to a better intentions to the people of bot countriendly
tone of conversation and society, and to manners
m.zre dignified and refined. Unless we are very    But we have dwelt too long on this subject.
much misinformed, indeed, the symptoms of slch a The manners of fashionable life, and the ri
change may already be traced in their cities. Their valry of bon ton between one country and
youths of fortune already travel over all the coun- another is after all but a poor affair tooctries of Europe for their improvement; and speci-or aff
mens are occasionally met with, even in these cupy the attention of philosophers, or ffect
islands, which, with all our prejudices, we must ad- the peace of nations.-Of what real consemit, would do no discredit to the best blood of the quence is it to the happiness or glory of a
land from which they originally sprung."     country, how a few thousand idle people



632                              MISCELLANEOUS.
probably neither the most virtuous nor the ter. We have a hundred times used the same
most useful of their fellow-citizens — pass language to our own countrymen-and retheir time, or divert the ennui of their inac- peatedly on the subject of the Slave Trade,tivity?-And men must really have a great and Mr. W. cannot be ignorant, that many
propensity to hate each other, when it is pious and excellent citizens of his own counthought a reasonable ground of quarrel, that try have expressed  themselves in similar
the rich disffuvris of one country are accused terms with regard to this very institution.
of not knowing how to get through their day As to his recriminations on England, we shall
so cleverly as those of another. Manners explain to Mr. WXV. immediately, that they
alter from age to age, and from  country to have no bearing whatever on the question
country; and much is at all times arbitrary now at issue between us; and, though nobody
and conventional in that which is esteemed can regret more than we do the domestic
the best. What pleases and amuses each slavery of our West Indian islands, it is quite
people the most, is the best for that people: absurd to represent the difficulties of the aboAnd, where states are tolerably equal in power lition as at all parallel in the case of America.
and wealth, a great and irreconcileable diver- It is still confidently asserted that, without
sity is often maintained with suitable arro- slaves, those islands could not be maintained;
gance and inflexibility, and no common stan- and, independent of private interests, the
dard recognised or dreamed of. The bon ton trade of England cannot afford to part with
of Pekin has no sort of affinity, we suppose, them. But will any body pretend to say,
with the bon ton of Paris-and that of Con- that the great and comparative temperate restantinople but little resemblance to either. gions over which the American Slavery exThe difference, to be sure, is not so complete tends, would be deserted, if all their inhabit.
within the limits of Europe; but it is suffi- ants were fiee-or even that they would be
ciently great, to show the folly of being dog- permanently less populous or less productive?
matical or intolerant upon a subject so inca- We are perfectly aware, that a sudden or impable of being reduced to principle. The mediate emancipation of all those who are
French accuse us of coldness and formality, now in slavery; might be attended with frightand we accuse them  of monkey tricks and ful disorders, as well as intolerable losses;
impertinence.  The good company of Rome and, accordingly, we have nowhere recomwould be much at a loss for amusement at mended any such measure: But we must reAmsterdam; and that of Brussels at Madrid. peat, that it is a crime and a shame, that the
The manners of America, then. are probably freest nation on the earth should keep a milthe best for America: But, for that very rea- lion and a half of fellow-creatures in actual
son, they are not the best for us: And when chains, within the very territory and sancwe hinted that they probably might be im- tuary of their freedom;  and should see them
proved, we spoke with reference to the Euro- multiplying, from day to day, without thinkpean standard, and to the feelings and judg- ing of any provision for their ultimate liberament of strangers, to whom  that standard tion. When we say this, we are far from
alone was familiar.  When their circum- doubting that there are many amiable and
stances, and the structure of their society, excellent individuals among the slave propricome to be more like those of Europe, their etors.  There were many such among the
manners will be more like-and they will importers of slaves in our West Indies: Yet,
suit better with those altered circumstances. it is not the less true, that that accursed traffic
When the fabric has reached its utmost ele- was a crime-and it was so called, in the
vation, the Corinthian capital may be added: most emphatic language, and with general
For the present, the Doric is perhaps more assent, year after year, in Parliament. without
suitable; and, if the style be kept pure, we any one ever imagining that this imported a
are certain it will be equally graceful.    personal attack on those individuals, far less
4. It only remains to notice what is said a malignant calumny upon the nation which
with regard to Negro Slavery: —and on this tolerated and legalized their proceedings.
we shall be very short. We have no doubt   Before leaving this topic, we have to thank
spoken very warmly on the subject in one of Mr. W. for a great deal of curious, and, to us,
our late Numbers; —but Mr. W. must have original information, as to the history of the
read what we there said, with a jaundiced American Slave trade, and the measures pureye indeed, if he did not see that our warmth sued by the different States with regard to the
pioceeded, not from any animosity against the institution of slavery: From which we learn,
people among whom this miserable institution among other things, that. so early as 1767, the
existed, but against the institution itself-and  legislature of Massachussets brought in a'bill
was mainly excited by the contrast that it for prohibiting the importation of negroes into
presented to the freedom and prosperity upon that province, which was rejected by the
which it was so strangely engrafted; —thus British governor, in consequence of express
appearing                                  instructions;-and another in 1774 shared the
Like a stain upon a Vestal's robe,  same fate. We learn also, that, in 1770, two
The worse for what it soils."-            years before the decision of Somerset's case in
England, the courts of the same distinguished
Accordingly, we do not call upon other province decided, upon solemn argument, that
nations to hate and despise America for this no person could be held in slavery within their
practice; but upon the Americans themselves jurisdiction; and awarded not only their freeto wipe away this foul blot from their charac- dom, but wages for their past services, to a




WALSH'S APPEAL.                                 633
ataiety of negro suitors. These, indeed. are ists exhorting to amendment, or of satirists
fair subjects of pride and exultation; and we endeavouring to deter from vice. Provincia.
nail them, without grudging, as bright trophies misgovernment from Ireland to HindostanIn the annals of the States to which they re- cruel amusements-increasing pauperismlate. But do not their glories cast a deeper disgusting brutality-shameful ignoranceshade on those who have refused to follow the perversion of law-grinding taxation-brutal
example-and may we not now be allowed to debauchery, and many other traits equally
speak of the guilt and unlawfulness of slavery, attractive, alre all heaped together, as the char.
as their own countrymen are praised and acteristics of English society; and unsparingly
boasted of for having spoken, so many years illustrated by "loose extracts from English
ago                                       Journals," quotations from Espriella's LetWe learn also from Mr. W., that Virginia ters-and selections from the Parliamentary
abolished the foreign slave trade so early as Debates. Accustomed, as we have long been,
1778-Pennsylvania in 1780-Massachusetts to mark the vices and miseries of our countryin 1787-and Connecticut and Rhode Island men, we really cannot say that we recognize
in 1788. It was finally interdicted by the any likeness in this distorted representation;
General Congress in 1794; and made punish- which exhibits our fair England as one great
able as a crime, seven years before that Lazar-house of moral and intellectual disease
mneasure was adopted in England. We have -one hideous and bloated mass of sin and
great pleasure in stating these facts. But suffering-one festering heap of corruption,
they all appear to us not only incongruous infecting the wholesome air which breathes
with the permanent existence of slavery, but upon it, and diffusing all around the contagion
as indicating those very feelings with regard and the terror of its example.
to it which we have been so severly blamed    We have no desire whatever to argue
for expressing.                           against the truth or the justice of this picture
We here close our answer to Mr. W.'s of our country; which we can assure Mr. W.
charges. Our readers, we fear, have been for we contemplate with perfect calmness and
some time tired of it: And, indeed, we have equanimity: but we are tempted to set against
felt all along, that there was something ab- it the judgment of another foreigner, with
surd in answering gravely to such an accusa- whom he cannot complain of being confionttion. If any regular reader of our Review  ed, and whose authorityat this moment stands
could be of opinion that we were hostile to higher, perhaps with the. whole civilised
America, and desirous of fomenting hostility world, than that of any other:ndividual. We
between her and this country, we could allude to Madame de Stal —an! to the splenscarcely hope that he would change that opin- did testimony she has borne to the character
ion for any thing we have now been saying. and happiness of the English nation, in her
But Mr. W.'s book may fall into the hands of last admirable book on the Revolution of her
many, in his own country at least, to whom  own country. But we have spoken of this
our writings are but little known; and the work so lately, that we shall not now recal
imputations it contains may become known to the attention of our readers to it, further than
many who never inquire into their grounds: by this general reference. We rather wish,
On such persons, the statements we have now  at present, to lay before them an American
made may produce some impression-and the authority.
spirit in which they are made perhaps still  In a work of great merit, entitled " A Letter
more. Our labour will not have been in vain, on the Genius and Dispositions of the French
if there are any that rise up fiom the perusal Government," published at Philadelphia in
of these pages with a better opinion of their 1810, and which attracted much notice, both
Transatlantic brethren, and an increased de- there and in this country, the author, in a
sire to live with them in friendship and peace. strain of great eloquence and powerful reaThere still remains behind, a fair moiety soning, exhorts his country to make common
of Mr. W.'s book; containing his recrimina- cause with England in the great struggle in
tions on England-his expositions of'her which she was then engaged with the giant
sores and blotches"-and his retort courteous power of Bonaparte, and points out the many
for all the abuse which her writers have been circumstances in the character and condition
pouring on this country for the last hundred of the two countries that invited them to a
years. The task. we should think, must have cordial alliance. He was well aware, too, of
been rather an afflicting one to a man of much the distinction we have endeavoured to point
moral sensibility: —But it is gone through very out between the Court, or the Tory rulers of
resc utely, and with a marvellous industry. the State, and the body of our People: and,
The learned author has not only ransacked after observing that the American Governforgotten histories and files of old newspapers ment, by following his councils, might retrieve
in search of disreputable transactions and de- the character of their country, he adds, "They
grading crimes-but has groped for the mate- will, I am quite sure, be seconded by an en.
rials of our dishonour, among the filth of Dr. tire correspondence of feeling, not only on
Colquhoun's Collections, and the Reports of our part, but on that of the PEOPLE of Engour Prison and Police Committees-culled vi- land-whatever may be the narrow policy, or
tuperative exaggerations from the records of illiberal prejudices of the British MINISTRY "
angry debates-and produced, as incontro- and, in the body of his work. he gives an
vertible evidence of the excess of our guilt ample and glowing description of the char%id misery, the fervid declamations of moral- acter and condition of that England of which




634                                 MISCELLANEOUS,
we have just seen so lamentable a representa- laws, than which none more just and perfect has
tion.  The whole passage is too long for in- ever been in operation; their seminaries of' educa.
sertion; but the following extracts will afford  tion yielding more solid and profitable instruction
than any other whatever; their eminence in literaa sufficient specimen of its tone and tenor.   ture and science-the urbanity and learning of their
A peculiar masculine character, and the utmost privileged  orders-their deliberative assemblies,
illustrated by so many profound statesmen, and
energy of feeling are communicated to all orders of brilliant orators. It is worse than ingratitude in
men,-by the abundance which prevails so univer- us not to sympathis
sally,-the consciousness of equal rights,-the ful-  st   h       e  with them in  their present
ness of power and frame to which the nation has struggle, when we recollect that it is from theRn we
attained,-and the beauty and robustness of the  erive the principal merit of oier own CItARACTERattaied,-and the beauty and robustness of    the best of our own institutions-the sources of our
species under a climate highly favourable to tbe highest enjoyments-and the light of Freedom itself,
animal economy. The dignity of the rich is with- wch, if they should be destroy    will    l
out insolence,-the subordination of the poor with- sed its adiane ov   this countroyedwill 
out servility. Their freedom is well guarded both
from  the dangers of popular licentiousness, and    What will Mr. Walsh say to this picture of
from the encroachments of authority.-Their na- the country he has so laboured to degrade?tional pride leads to national sympathy, and is built and what will our readers say, when they are
upon the most legitimate of all foundations-a sense told that Ma. WALSH HIMSELF is the author of
of pre-eminent merit and a body of illustrious an- this picture
nals.                                          this picture 
" Whatever may be the representations of those    So, however, the fact unquestionably stands.
who, with little knowledge of' facts, and still less -The book from which we have made the
soundness or impartiality of judgment, affect to de- preceding extracts, was written and published,
plore the condition of England,-it is nevertheless in 1810, by the very same individual who has
true, that there does not exist, and never has existed elsewhere,-so beautiful and perfect a model now  recriminated upon England in the volof public and private prosperity,-so magnificent, ume which lies before us,-and in which he
and at the same time, so solid a fabric of'social hap- is pleased to speak with extreme severity of
piness and national grandeur. 1 pay this just tri- the inconsistencies he has detected in our Rebute of admiration with the more pleasure, as it is view!-That some discordant or irreconcileto me in the light of an Atonement for the errors able opinions should be found in the *nisceland prejudices, under which I laboured, on this sub- laneos writing of twenty years, and thirty or
ject, before I enjoyed the advantage of a personal
experience.  A residence of nearly two years in forty individuals under no effective control,
that country, —during which period, I visited and may easily be imagined, and pardoned, we
studied almost every part of it,-with no other view  should think, without any great stretch of
or pursuit than that of obtaining correct informa- liberality. But such a nsmutation of sentition, and, I may add, with previous studies well      on the 
fitted to promote my object,-convinced me that I ments on  the same dentical subject-such a
had been egregiously deceived. I saw no instances reversal of the poles of the same identical
of individual oppression, and scarcely any individual head, we confess has never before come under
misery but that which belongs, under any circum- our observation; and is parallel to nothing that
stances of our being, to the infirmity of all human we can recollect, but the memorable transinstitutions." —                               formation of Bottom in the Midsummer Night's
" T'he agriculture of England is confessedly su- Dream. Nie years, to be sure, had intervened
perior to that of any other part of the world, and           years, to be sure    intervened
the condition of those who are engaged in the cul- between the first and the second publication.
tivation of the soil, incontestibly preferable to that But all the guilt and all the misery which is
of the same class in any other section of Europe. so diligently developed in the last, had been
An inexhaustible source of admiration and delight contracted before the first was thought of; and
is found in the unrivalled beauty, as well as rich- all tovocations too, by which
ness and fruitfulness of their husbandry; the effects the exposition of them  has lately become a
if which are heightened by the magnificent parks
and noble mansions of the opulent proprietors: by  duty.  Mr. W. knew  perfectly, in 1810, how
picturesque gardens upon the largest scale, and  England had behaved to her American colonies
disposed with the most exquisite taste: and by before the war of independence, and in what
Gothic remains no less admirable in their structure spirit she had begun and carried on that war:
than venerable for their antiquity. The neat cot- -our Poor-rates and taxes our bull-batings
tage, the substantial farm-house, the splendid villa,
are constantly rising to the sight, surrounded by the and swindlings; were then nearly as visible as
most choice and poetical attributes of the landscape. now. Mr. Colquhoun, had, before that time, put
The vision is not more delightfully recreated by forth his Political Estimate of our prostitutes
the rural scenery, than the moral sense is gratified. and pickpockets; and the worthy Laureate his
and the understanding elevated by the institution                   the bad state of our parof this great country. The first and continued ex- liaments and manufactures.  Nay, the EDINclamation of an American who contemplates them
with unbiassed judgment, is-                   BURGH REVIEW  had committed the worst of
Salve! magna Parens frugum, Saturnia tellus:    those offences which now  make hatred to
Magna virunl.                               England the duty of all true Americans, and
"It appears something not less than Impious t  had expressed little of that zeal for her friend" It appearssomething nt less thanIm~pious      ship which appears in its subsequent Nmiumbers.
desire the ruin of this people, when you view the ip which appearsinitssubsequent Numbers.
height to which they have carried the comforts, the The Reviews of the American Transactions,
knowledge, and the virtue of our species: the ex- and Mr. Barlow's Epic, of Adams' Letters, and
tent and number of their foundations of charity; Marshall's History, had all appeared before
their skill in the mechanic arts, by the improvement this time-and but very few of the articles in
of which alone they have conferred inestimable which the future greatness of that country is
benefits on mankind; the masculine morality, the
lofty sense of independence, the sober and rational predicted, and her singular prosperity extolled.
piety which are found in all classes; their impar-    How then is it to be accounted for, that Mr.
tal, decorous, and able administration of a code of W. should have taken such a favourable view




WALSH'S APPEAL.                                 6,W
Df our state and merits in 1810, and so very with any degree of fairness or temper, and
different a one in 1819? There is but one had not announced that they were brought
explanation that occurs to us. — Mr. W., as forward as incentives to hostility and national
appears from the passages just quoted, had alienation, we should have been so far from
been originally very much of the opinion to complaining of him, that we should have been
which he has now returned-For he tells us, heartily thankful for the services of such an
that he considers the tribute of admiration auxiliary in our holy war against vice and
wh]ich he there offers to our excellence, as an corruption; and rejoiced to obtain the testiAtonement for the errors and prejudices under mony of an impartial observer, in corroborawhich he laboured till he came among us,-  tion of our own earnest admonitions. Even
and hints pretty plainly, that he had formerly as it is, we are inclined to think that this exseen ungrateful enough to disown all obliga- position of our infirmities will rather do good
tion to our race, and impious enough even to than harm, so far as it produces any effect at
wish for our ruin. Now, from the tenor of the all, in this country. Among our national vices,
work before us, compared with these passages, we have long reckoned an insolent and overit is pretty plain, we think, that Mr. W. has weening opinion of our own universal superijust relapsed into those damnable heresies. ority; and though it really does not belong to
which we fear are epidemic in his part of the America to reproach us with this fault, and
country —and from which nothing is so likely though the ludicrous exaggeration of Mr. W.;s
to deliver him, as a repetition of the same charge is sure very greatly to weaken his auremedy by which they were formerly removed. thority, still such an alarming catalogue of
Let him come again then to England, and try our faults and follies may have some effect,
the effect of a second course of "personal as a wholesome mortification of our vanity.experience and observation —let him make It is with a view to its probable effect in his
another pilgrimage to Mecca, and observe own country, and to his avowal of the effect
whether his faith is not restored and confirmed he wishes it to produce there, that we consider
- - let him, like the Indians of his own world, it as deserving of all reprobation;-and therevisit the Tombs of his Fathers in the old land, fore beg leave to make one or two very short
and see whether he can there abjure the friend- remarks on its manifest injustice, and indeed
ship of their other children? If he will ven- absurdity, in so far as relates to ourselves, and
ture himself among us for another two years' that great majority of the country whom we
residence, we can promise him that he will believe to concur in our sentiments. The obfind in substance the same England that he ject of this violent invective on England is,
left:-Our laws and our landscapes-our in- according to the author's own admission, to
dustry and urbanity; —our charities, our learn- excite a spirit of animosity in America, to
ing, and our personal beauty, he will find meet and revenge that which other invectives
unaltered and unimpaired;-and we think we on our part are said to indicate here; and also
can even engage; that he shall find also a still to show the flagrant injustice and malignity
greater "d correspondence of feelingin the body of the said invectives: —And this is the shape
of our People," and not a less disposition to of the argument — What right have you to
welcome an accomplished stranger who comes abuse us for keeping and whipping slaves,
to get rid of errors and prejudices, and to learn when you yourselves whip your soldiers, and
-or, if he pleases, to teach, the great lessons were so slow to give up your slave trade, and
of a generous and indulgent philanthropy.    use your subjects so ill in India and Ireland?
We have done, however, with this topic.-  -or what right have you to call our Marshall
We have a considerable contempt for the ar- a dull historian, when you have a Belsham and
g-umentum ad hominem in any case-and have a Gifford who are still duller? Now, though
no desire to urge it further at present. The this argument would never show that whipping
truth is that neither of Mr. W.'s portraitures slaves was a right thing, or that Mr. Marshall
of us appears to be very accurate. We are was not a dull writer, it might be a very smart
painted en beau in the one, and en laid in the and embarrassing retort to those among us
other. The particular traits in each may be who had defended our slave trade or our
given with tolerable truth — but the wkLole military floggings, or our treatment of Ireland
truth most certainly is to be found in neither; and India-or who had held out Messrs. Be]and it will not even do to take them together sham and Gifford as pattern historians, and
— any more than it would do to make a correct ornaments of our national literature. But what
likeness, by patching or compoundi)ng together meaning or effect can it have when addressed
a flattering portrait and a monstrous carica- to those who have always testified against the
ture. - We have but a word or two, indeed, wickedness and the folly of the practices
to add on the general subject, before we take complained of? and who have treated the
a final farewell of this discussion.      Ultra-Whig and the Ultra-Tory historian with
We admit. that many of the charges which equal scorn and reproach t We have a right
Mr. W. has here made against our country, to censure cruelty and dulness abroad, because
are justly made — and that for many of the we have censured them with more and more
things with which he has reproached us, there frequent severity at home; —and their home
is just cause of reproach. It would be strange. existence, though it.may prove indeed that
indeed, if we were to do otherwise - consi- our censures have.not yet been effectual in
dering that it is from our pages that he has on producing amendment, can afford no sort of
many occasions borrowed the charge and the reason for not extending them  wterve -hey
reproach. If he had stated them  therefore, might be more ittended to.




636                             MISCELLANEOUS.
We have generally blamed what we thought against them, and feeling grateful to any fo.
worthy c f blame in America, without any ex- reign auxiliary who will help us to reason, t,
press reference to parallel cases in England, rail, or to shame our countrymen out of them,
or any invidious comparisons. Their books are willing occasionally to lend a similar aswe have criticised just as should have done sistance to others, and speak freely and fairly
those of any other country; and in speaking of what appear to us to be the faults and er
more generally of their literature and man- rors, as well as the virtues and merits. of all
ners, we have rather brought them into com- who may be in any way affected by our obpetition with those of Europe in general, than servations; —or Mr. Walsh, who will admit no
those of our own country in particular. When faults in his own country, and no good qualiwe have made any comparative estimate of our ties in ours-sets down the mere extension
own advantages and theirs, we can say with of our domestic censures to their corresponding
confidence, that it has been far oftener in their objects abroad, to the score of national rancour
favour than against them — and, after repeat- and partiality; and can find no better use for
edly noticing their preferable condition as to those mutual admonitions, which should lead
taxes, elections, sufficiency  of employment, to mutual amendment or generous emulation,
public, economy, freedom of publication, and than to improve them into occasions of mutual
many other points of paramount importance, animosity and deliberate hatred?
it surely was but fair that we should notice,   This extreme impatience, even of merited
in their turn, those merits or advantages which blame from the mouth of a stranger-this still
might reasonably be claimed for ourselves, more extraordinary abstinence from any hint
and bring into view our superiority in eminent or acknowledgment of error on the part of
authors, and the extinction and annihilation her intelligent defender, is a trait too remarkof slavery in every part of our realm.    able not to call for some observation;-and
We would also remark, that while we have we think we can see in it one of the worst and
thus praised America far more than we have most unfortunate consequences of a republican
blamed her-and reproached ourselves far government. It is the misfortune of Sovemore bitterly than we have ever reproached reigns in general, that they are fed with fiather, Mr. W.. while he affects to be merely tery till they loathe the wholesome truth, and
following our example, has heaped abuse on come to resent, as the bitterest of all offences,
us without one grain of commendation-and any insinuation of their errors, or intimation
praised his own country extravagantly, with- of their dangers. But of all sovereigns, the
out admitting one fault or imperfection. Now, Sovereign People is most obnoxious to this corthis is not a fair way of retorting the proceed- ruption, and most fatally injured by its prevaings, even of the Quarterly; for they have lence. In America. every thing depends on
occasionally given some praise to America, their suffrages, and their favour and support;
and have constantly spoken ill enough of the and accordingly it would appear, that they are
paupers, and radicals, and reformers of Eng- pampered with constant adulation, from the
land. But as to us, and the great body of the rival suitors to their favour-so that no one
nation which thinks with us, it is a proceeding will venture to tell them of their faults; and
without the colour of justice or the shadow  moralists, even of the austere character of
of apology-and is not a less flagrant indica- Mr. W., dare not venture to whisper a syllable
tion of impatience or bad humour, than the to their prejudice. It is thus, and thus only,
marvellous assumption which runs through that we can account for the strange sensitivethe whole argument, that it is an unpardon- ness which seems to prevail among them on
able insult and an injury to find any fault with the lightest sound of disapprobation, al-d for
any thing in Ameica, —must necessarily pro- the acrimony with which, what would pass
ceed from national spite and animosity, and anywhere else for very mild admonitions, are
affords, whether true or false, sufficient reason repelled and resented. It is obvious, howfor endeavouring to excite a corresponding ever, that nothing can be so injurious to the
animosity against our nation. Such, however, character either of an individual or a nation,
is the scope and plan of Mr. W.'s whole work. as this constant and paltry cockering of praise -
Whenever he thinks that his country has been and that the want of any native censor, makes
erroneously accused, he points out the error it more a duty for the moralists of other counwith sufficient keenness and asperity; —but tries to take them under their charge, and let
when he is aware that the imputation is just them know now and then what other people
and unanswerable, instead of joining his re- think and say of them.
buke or regret to those of her foreign censors.   We are anxious to part with Mr. W. in good
he turns fiercely and vindictively on the humour; —but we must say that we rather
parallel infirmities of this country —as if wish he would not go on with the work he has
those also had not been marked with repro- begun —at least if it is to be pursued in the
bation, and without admitting that the cen- spirit which breathes in the part now before
sure was merited, or hoping that it might us. Nor is it so much to his polemic and vinwork amendment, complains in the bitterest dictive tone that we object, as this tendency
terms of malignity, and arouses his country to adulation, this passionate, vapouring, rheto revenge!                               torical style of amplifying and exaggerating
Which, then, we would ask, is the most the felicitiesof his country. In point of talent
fair and reasonable, or which the most truly and knowledge and industry, we have no
patriotic — We. who, admitting our own mani- doubt that he is eminently qualified for the
ol6e faults and corruptions, testifying loudly task-(though we must tell him that he does




BRACEBRIDGE HALL.                                 637
not write so well now as when he left Eng-  attach to their good opinion, and the anxiety
land)-but no man will ever write a book of we feel to prevent any national repulsion from
authority on the institutions and resources of being aggravated by a misapprehension of oui
his country, who does not add some of the sentiments, or rather of those of that great
virtues of a Censor to those of a Patriot-or body of the English nation of which we are
rather, who does not feel, that the noblest, as here the organ. In what we have now written
well as the most difficult part of patriotism is there may be much that requires explanation
that which prefers his country's Good to its — and much, we fear, that is liable to misconFavour, and is more directed to reform  its struction.-The spirit in which it is written,
vices, than to cherish the pride of its virtues. however, cannot, we think. be misunderstood,
With foreian nations, too, this tone of fondness We cannot descend to little cavils and alterand self-admiration is always suspected; and cations  and have no leisure to maintain a
most commonly ridiculous-while calm and controversy about words and phrases. We
steady claims of merit. interspersed with ac- } have an unfeigned respect and affection foi
knowledgments of faults, are sure to obtain the free people of America; and we mean
credit, and to raise the estimation both of the honestly to pledge ourselves for that of the
writer and of his country. The ridicule, too, better part of our own country. We are very
which naturally attaches to this vehement self- proud of the extensive circulation of our Jourlaudation, must insensibly contract a darker nal in that great country, and the importance
shade of contempt, when it comes to be sus- that is there attached to it. But we should
pected that it does not proceed from mere be undeserving of this favour, if we could
honest vanity, but from a poor fear of giving submit to seek it by any mean practices,
offence to power-sheer want of courage, in either of flattery or of dissimulation; anri feel
short (in the wiser part at least of the popu- persuaded that we shall not only best deserve,
lation), to let their foolish AHMOx know what but most surely obtain, the confidence and rein their hearts they think of him,        spect of Mr. W. and his couptrymen, by
And now we must at length close this very speaking freely what we sincerely think of
long article-the very length and earnestness them, -and treating them exactly as we treat
of which, we hope, will go some way to satisfy that nation to which we are here accused of
our American brethren of the importance we being too favourable.
(Nfovenbe r, 1822.)
Bracebridge Hall; or, the Humorists. By GEOFFREY CRAYON, Gent. Author of " The Sketch
Book," &c. 2 vols. 8vo. pp. 800. Murray. London: 1822.*
WE have received so much pleasure from  with the same happy selection and limited
this book, that we think ourselves bound in variety, but the same proportion of things that
gratitude, as well as justice, to make a public seem scarcely to depend on the individual —
acknowledgment of it,-and seek to repay, by the same luck, as well as the same labour, and
a little kind notice, the great obligations we an equal share of felicities to enhance the
shall ever feel to the author. These amiable fair returns of judicious industry. There are
sentiments, however, we fear, will scarcely few things, we imagine, so rare as this susfurnish us with materials for an interesting tained level of excellence in the works of a
article; —and we suspect we have not much popular writer-or, at least, if it does exist
else to say, that has not already occurred to now and then in rerum natura, there is scarcemost of our readers-or, indeed, been said by ly any thing that is so seldom allowed. When
ourselves with reference to his former publi- an author has once gained a large share of
cation. For nothing in the world can be so public attention,-when his name is once up
complete as the identity of the author in these among a herd of idle readers, they can never
two productions-identity not of style merely be brought to believe that one who has risen
and character, but of merit also, both in kind so far can ever remain stationary. In their
and degree, and in the sort and extent of popu- estimation, he must either rise farther, or belarity which that merit has created —not mere- gin immediately to descend; so that. when
ly the same good sense and the same good he ventures before these prepossessed judges
humour directed to the same good ends, and with a new work, it is always discovered,
either that he has infinitely surpassed him* My heart is still so much in the subject of the self ore in the far greater number of cases
preceding paper, that I am tempted to add this to it;   the far greater number of cases
chiefly for the sake of the powerful backing which that there is a sad falling off, and that he is
my English exhortation to amity among brethren, hastening to the end of his career. In this
is there shown to have received from the most amia- way it may in general be presumed, that
ble and elegant of American writers. I had said an author who is admitted by the public not
nearly the same things in a previous review of to have fallen off in a second work, has in re"The Sketch Book," and should have reprinted ality improved upon his first; and has truly
that article also, had it not been made up chiefly of ality improved upon his first; and has truly
extracts, with which I do not think it quite fair to proved his title to a higher place, by meretMll up this publication.                 ly maintaining that which he had formerly




638                              MISCELLANEOUS.
earned. We would not have Mr. Crayon, parasites who are in raptures with every body
however; plume himself too much upon this they meet, and ingratiate themselves in genesage observation: for though we, and other ral society by an unmanly suppression of all
great lights of public judgmnent, have decided honest indignation, and a timid avoidance of
that his former level has been maintained in all subjects of disagreement. Upon due conthis work with the most marvellous precision, sideration, however, we are now satisfied that
we must whisper in his ear that the million this was an unjust and unworthy interpretaare not exactly of that opinion.; and that the tion. All author who comes deliberately becommon buzz among the idle and impatient fore the public with certain select monologues
critics of the drawing-room is, that, in com- of doctrine and discussion, is not at all in the
parison with the Sketch Book, it is rather condition of a man in common society; on
monotonous and languid; and there is too whom various overtures of baseness and folly
little variety of characters for two thick vol- are daily obtruded, and to whose sense and
umes; and that the said few characters come honour appeals are perpetually made, which
on so often, and stay so long, that the gentlest must be manfully answered, as honour and
reader detects himself in rejoicing at being conscience suggest.  The author, on the
done with them. The premises of this en- other hand, has no questions to answer, and
thymem we do not much dispute; but the no society to select  is professed object is to
conclusion, for all that, is wrong: For, in instruct and improve the world-and his real
spite of these defects, Bracebridge Hall is one, if he is tolerably honest, is nothing worse
quite as good as the Sketch Book; and Mr. C. than to promote his own fame and fortune by
may take comfort, —if he is humble enough succeeding in that which he professes. Now,
to bs comforted with such an assurance-and there are but two ways that we have ever
trust to us that it will be quite as popular, and heard of by which men may be improvedthat he still holds his own with the efficient either by cultivating and encouraging their
body of his English readers.              amiable propensities, or by shaming and
The great charm and peculiarity of this frightening them out of those that are vicious;
work consists now, as on former occasions, in and there can be but little doubt, we should
the singular sweetness of the composition, and imagine, which of the two offices is the highthe mildness of the sentiments,-sicklied over est and most eligible —since the one is left in
perhaps a little, now and then, with that cloy- a great measure to Hell and the hangman,ing heaviness into which unvaried sweetness and for the other, we are taught chiefly to
is too apt to subside. The rythm and melody look to Heaven, and all that is angelic upon
of the sentences is certainly excessive: As it earth.  The most perfect moral discipline
not only gives an air of mannerism, from its would be that, no doubt, in which both were
uniformity, but raises too strong. an impres- combined; but one is generally as much as
sion of the labour that must'hiVe been be- human energy is equal to; and, in fact, they
stowed, and the importance which must have have commonly been divided in practice, withbeen attached to that which is. after all, but out surmise of blame. And truly, if men have
a secondary attribute to good writing. It is been hailed as great public benefactors, merevery ill-natured in us, however. to object to ly for having beat tyrants into moderation, or
what has given us so much pleasure; for we coxcombs into good manners, we must be perhappen to be very intense and sensitive ad- mitted to think, that one whose vocation is
mirers of those soft harmonies of studied different may be allowed to have deserved
speech in which this author is so apt to in- well of his kind, although he should have
dulge; and have caught ourselves, oftener confined his efforts to teaching them mutual
than we shall confess, neglecting his excellent charity and forbearance, and only sought to
matter, to lap ourselves in the liquid music of repress their evil passions, by strengthening
his periods-and letting ourselves float pas- the springs and enlarging the sphere of those
sively down the mellow falls and windings of that are generous and kindly.
his. soft-flowing sentences, with a delight not   The objection in this general form, thereinferior to that which we derive from fine fore, we soon found could not be maintained:
versification.                            -But, as we still felt a little secret spite linWe should reproach ourselves still more, gering within us at our author's universal
however, and with better reason, if we were affability, we set about questioning ourselves
to persist in the objection which we were also more strictly as to its true nature and tendenat first inclined to take, to the extraordinary cy; and think we at last succeeded in tracing
kindliness and disarming gentleness of all this it to an eager desire to see so powerful a pen
author's views and suggestions; and we only and such great popularity employed in derefer to it now, for the purpose of answering, molishing those errors and abuses to which
and discrediting it/ with any of our readers to we had been accustomed to refer most of the
whom also it may happen to have occurred. unhappiness of our country. Though we love
It first struck us as an objection to the an- his gentleness and urbanity on the whole, we
thor's courage and sincerity. It was quie should have been very well pleased to see
unnatural, we said to ourselves, for any body him a little rude and surly, now and then, to
to be always on such very amiable terms with our particular opponents; and could not but
his fellow-creatures; and this air of eternal think it showed a want of spirit and discrimniphilanthropy could be nothing but a pretence nation that he did not mark his sense of their
put on. to bring hiniself-into favour; and then demerits, by making them an exception to his
we proceeded to assimilate him to those silken general system of toleration and indulgence.




BRACEBRIDGE HALL.                                639
Being Whigs ourselves, for example, we could doubt chiefly on account of this nrfluence and
not Dut take it a little amiss, that one born favour that we and others are rashly desirous
and bred a republican, and writing largely on to see him take part against our adversariesthe present condition of England, should make forgetting that those very qualities which renso little distinction between that party and its der his assistance valuable, would infallibly
opponents-and should even choose to attach desert him the moment that he complied with
himself to a Tory family, as the proper type our desire, and vanish in the very act of his
and emblem of the old English character. Nor compliance.
could we well acquit him of being " pigeon-   The question then comes to be, not properly
livered-and lacking gall," when we found whether there should be any neutrals in great
that nothing could provoke him to give a pal- national contentions-but whether any man
pable hit to the Ministry, or even to employ should be allowed to aspire to distinction by
his pure and powerful eloquence in reproving acts not subservient to party purposes?-a
the shameful scurrilities of the ministerial question which, even in this age of party and
press. We were also a little sore, too, we be- polemics, we suppose there are not many
Fieve, on discovering that he took no notice of who would have the hardihood seriously to
Scotland! and said absolutely nothing about propound. Yet this, we must be permitted to
our Highlanders, our schools, and our poetry.. repeat, is truly the question:-For if a man
Now, though we have magnanimously cho- may lawfully devote his talents to music, or
sen to illustrate this grudge at his neutrality architecture, or drawing, or metaphysics, or
in our own persons, it is obvious that a dis- poetry, and lawfully challenge the general adsatisfaction of the same kind must have been miration of his age for his proficiency in those
felt by all the other great and contending par- pursuits, though totally disjoined from all poties into which this and all free countries are litical application, we really do not see why
necessarily divided. Mr. Crayon has rejected he may not write prose essays on national
the alliance of any one of these; and reso- character and the ingredients of private haplutely refused to take part with them in the piness; with the same large and pacific pur
struggles to which they attach so much im- poses of pleasure and improvement. To Mr.
portance; and consequently has, to a certain C. especially, who is not a citizen of this counextent, offended and disappointed them all. try, it can scarcely be proposed as a duty to
But we must carry our magnanimity a step take a share in our internal contentions; and
farther, and confess) for ourselves, and for though the picture which he professes to give
others, that, upon reflection, the offence and of our country may be more imperfect, and
disappointment seem to us altogether unrea- the estimate he makes of our character less
sonable and unjust. The ground of complaint complete, from the omission of this less tractis, that we see talents and influence-inno- able element, the value of the parts that he
cently, we must admit, and even beneficially has been ab] t, finish will not be lessened,
employed-but not engaged on our side, or in and the beneficial effect of the representation
the'particular contest which we may feel it will, in all probability, be increased. For our
our duty to wage against the errors or delu- own parts, we have ventured, on former occasions of our contemporaries. Now, in the first sions, to express our doubts whether the poplace, is not this something like the noble in- lemical parts, even of a statesman's duty, do
dignation of a recruiting serjeant, who thinks not hold too high a place in public esteemit a scandal that'any stout fellow should de- and are sure, at all e(veits, that they ought not
grade himself by a pacific employment, and to engross the attention of those to whom such
takes offence accordingly at every pair of a station has not been intrusted. It should
broad shoulders and good legs which he finds never be forgotten, that good political instituin the possession of a priest or a tradesman? tions. the sole end and object of all our party
But the manifest absurdity of the grudge con- contentions, are only valuable as means of
sists in this. First, That it is equally reason- promoting the general happiness and virtue
able in all the different parties who sincerely of individuals — and that, important as they
believe their own cause to be that which ought are, there are other means, still more direct
to prevail; while it is manifest, that, as the and indispensable for the attainment of that
desired champion could only side with one, great end. The cultivation of the kind affec.
all the rest would be only worse off by the tions, we humbly conceive, to be of still more
termination of his neutrality; and secondly, importance to private happiness, than the
That the weight and authority, for the sake of good balance of the constitution under which
which his assistance is so coveted, and which we live; and, if it be true, as we most firmly
each party is now so anxious to have thrown believe, that it is the natural effect of political
into its scale, having been entirely created by freedom  to fit and dispose the mind for all
virtues and qualities which belong only to a gentle as well as generous emotions, we hold
state of neutrality, are, in reality, incapable it to be equally true, that habits of benevoof being transferred to contending parties, and lence, and sentiments of philanthropy, are the
would utterly perish and be annihilated in the surest foundations on which a love of liberty
attempt. A good part of Mr. C.'s reputation, can rest. A man must love his fellows before
and certainly a very large share of his in- he loves their liberty; and if he has not learned
fluence and popularity with all parties, has to interest himself in their enjoyments, it is
been acqcuired by the indulgence with which impossible that he can have any genuine con.
he has treated all. and his abstinence from all cern for that liberty, which, after all, is only
sorts of virulence and hostility; and it is no valuable as a means of enjoyment. We core




640                                MISCELLANEOUS.
sider, therefore, the writers who seek to soften sient and perishing glories of art, amidst the ever
and improve our social affections, not only as springing and reviving fertility of nature.
aiming directly at the same great end which    "But, in fact, to me every thing was full of
matter: The footsteps of history were every where
politicians more circuitously pursue, but as to be traced; and poetry had breathed over and
preparing those elements out of which alone sanctified the land.  I experienced the delightful
a generous and enlightened love of political freshness of feeling of a child, to whom every thing
freedom  can ever be formed-and without is new. I pictured to myself a set of inhabitants
which it could neither be safely trusted in the and a mode of life for every habitation that I saw;
hands of individuals, nor prove fruitful of in- from the aristocratical mansion, amidst the lordly
repose of stately groves and solitary parks, to the
dividual enjoyment. We conclude, therefore, straw -thatched cottage, with its scanty garden and
that Mr. Crayon is in reality a better friend to its cherished woodbine. I thought I never could
Whig principles than if he had openly attacked  be sated with the sweetness and freshness of' a
*he Tories-and end this long, and perhaps country so completely carpeted with verdure;
needlies~s apology for his neutrality, by discov- where every air breathed of the balmy pasture and
erino  thapt such  neutrality is in effect the best the honeysuckled hedge. I was continually coming
upon some little document of poetry, in the biosnursery for the only partisans that ever should  somed hawthorn, the daisy, the cowslip, the primbe encouraged-the partisans of whatever can  rose, or sonie other simple object that has received
be showvn to be clearly and unquestionably  a supernatural value from the Muse.  The first
right.  And now we must say a word or two time that I heard the song of the nightingale, I was
more of the book before us.                   intoxicated more by the delicious crowd of rememThere are not many of our readers to whom  bered associations, than by the melody of its notes;
There are not many of  our readers to whom  and I shall never forget the thrill of ecstasy with
it can be necessary to mention, that it is in  which I first saw the lark rise, almost from beneath
substance, and almost in form, a continuation  lly feet,.and wing its musical flight up into the
of the Sketch Book; and consists of a series morning sky."-Vol. i. pp. 6-9.
of little descriptions, and essays on matters   We know nothing more beaftiful than the
principally touching the national character melody of this cocluding sentence  and if
and old habits of Eng~lanc.  The author is melody of this concluding sentence; and if
and old habits of England. The author is
supposed to be resident at Bracebridge Hall, the reader be not struck with its music, we
thsuppo sed  to be resident at Bracebridch  he Hall, think he has no right to admire the Vision of
the Christmas festivities of which  he had
commemorated  in  his former publication  Mirza, or any of the other delicious cadences
commemorated  in  his former publication, of Addison.
and among the inmates of which, most of the    The Fareell we uote for the matterddison.
familiar incidents occur which he turns to                                             and
account in his lucubrations. These incidento it is matter to which we shall miss no fit ocaccount in his lucubrations.  These incidents casion to recurs-b
can scarcely be said to make a story in any  that it is one of recur eing persuaded not only
sense, and certainly not one which would  any other to whigher moment than almost
admit of being abstracted; and as we are selves but one upon which the honest perseunder a vow to make but short extracts from
popular books, we must see that we choose verance, even of such a work as ours may in
well the few passages upon which we may  time produce practical and beneficial effects.
venture.  There is a short Introduction, and We allude to the animosity which intemperate
ventuzre.  There is a short Introduction, and  writers on both sides are labouting to create
a Farewell, by the author; in both which he or exasperats  between  this country and
alludes to the fact of his being a citizen of America and which we, and the writer beAmerica in a way that appears to us to de- fore us are most an   xious to allay. There  is
serve a citation. The first we give chiefly fore us, are most anxious to allay.  There is
serve a  citation.  The first we give chiefly no word in the following quotation in which
we do not most cordially concur. We receive
"England is as classic ground to an American, as with peculiar satisfaction the assurances of
Italy is to an Englishman; and old London teems the accomplished author, as to the kindly
with as much historical association as mighty Rome. disposition of the better part of his country" But what more especially attracts his notice,    dispos             p           o
are those peculiarities which distinguish an old men; and are disposed to place entire conficountry, and an old state of society, from a new  dence in it, not only from our reliance on his
one. I have never yet grown familiar enough with judgment and means of information, but from
the crumbling monuments of past ages, to blunt the accuracy of his representation of the sort
the intense interest with which I at first beheld of persons to whom the fashion of abusing the
them. Accustomed always to scenes where history Americans has now gone down, on this side
was, in a manner, in anticipation; where every
thing in art was new and progressive, and pointed of the Atlantic.  Nothing, we think, can be
to the future rather than to the past; where, in more handsome, persuasive, or grateful, than
short, the works of man gave no ideas but those of the whole following passage.
young existence, and prospective improvement;
there was something inexpressibly touching in the   "And here let me acknowledge my warm, my
sight of enormous piles of architecture, grey with ttlankful feelings, at the effect produced by one of
antiquity, and sinking to decay. I cannot describe my trivial lucubrations. I allude to the essay in
the mute but deep-felt enthusiasm with which I the Sketch-Book, on the subject of the literary
have contemplated a vast monastic ruin, like Tin- feuds between England and America. I cannot
tern Abbey, buried in the bosom of a quiet valley, express the heartfelt delight I have experienced at
and shut up from the world, as though it had existed the unexpected sympathy and approbation with
merely for itself; or a warrior pile, like Conway which those remarks have been received on both
Castle, standing in stern loneliness, on its rocky sides of the Atlantic. I speak this not from any
height, a mere hollow, yet threatening phantom of paltry feelings of gratified vanity; for I attribute
departed power. They spread a grand and melan. the effect to no merit of my pen. The paper in
choiy, and, to me, an unusual charm over the land- question was brief and casual, and the ideas it con.
scape. I for the first time beheld signs of national veyed were simple and obvious.'It was the cause
old age, and empire's decay; and proofs of the tran- it was the cause' alone. There was a predisposi



BRACEBRIDGE HALL.                                        641
tion on the part of my readers to be favourably af- spirit is daily becoming more and more prevalent in
fected. My countrymen responded in heart to the good society. There is a growing curiosity confilial feelings I had avowed in their name towards cerning my country; a craving desire for correct
the parent country; and there was a generous information, that cannot fail to lead to a favourable
sympathy in every English bosom towards a soli- understanding. The scoffer, I trust, has had his
tary individual, lifting up his voice in a strange land, day; the time of the slanderer is gone by. The
to vindicate the injured character of his nation.-  ribald jokes, the stale commonplaces, which have
There are some causes so sacred as to carry with  so long passed current when America was the
them an irresistible appeal to every virtuous bosom; theme, are now banished to the ignorant and the
and he needs but little power of eloquence, who vulgar, or only perpetuated by the hireling scribdefends the honour of his wife, his mother, or his blers and traditional jesters of the press. The incountry.                                        telligent and high-minded now pride themselves
" I hail, therefore, the success of that brief paper, upon making America a study.
as showing how much good may be done by a kind                           Vol. ii. pp. 396-403.
word, however feeble, when spoken in season-as    From  the body of the work, we must inshowing how much dormant good feeling actually    From  the bo dy of thelves withe must n
exists in each country, towards the other, which dulge ourselves with very few citations. But
only wants the slightest spark to kindle it into a we cannot resist the following exquisite degenial flame-as showing, in fact, what I have all scription of a rainy Sunday at an inn in a
along believed and asserted, that the two nations country town.  It is part of the admirable
would grow together in esteem and amity, if med- leend  of  the Stout Gentleman" of  hich
dling and malignant spirits would but throw by their          t
mischievous pens, and leave kindred hearts to the we will not trust ourselves with saying one
kindly impulses of nature.                      word more.  The following, however, is per"' I once more assert, and I assert it with in- fect, independent of its connections.
creased conviction of its truth, that there exists,
among the great majority of my countrymen, a    "It was a rainy Sunday, in the gloomy month
favourable feeling towards England. I repeat this of November. I had been detained, in the course
assertion, because I think it a truth that cannot too of a journey, by a slight indisposition, from which
often be reiterated, and because it has met with  I was recovering; but I was still feverish, and
some contradiction. Among all the liberal and en- was obliged to keep within doors all day, in an inn
lightened minds of my countrymen, among all those of the small town of Derby. A wet Sunday in a
which eventually give a tone to national opinion, country inn! whoever has had the luck to experithere exists a cordial desire to be on terms of cour- ence one can alone judge of my situation. The
tesy and friendship. But, at the same time, there  rain pattered against the casements; the bells
unfortunately exists in those very minds a distrust tolled for church with a melancholy sound.  I
of reciprocal goodwill on the part of England. went to the windows in quest of something to
They have been rendered morbidly sensitive by the  amuse the eye; but it seemed as if I had been
-attacks made upon their country by the English  placed completely out of the reach of all amusepress; and their occasional irritability on this sub- ment. The windows of my bed-room looked out
ject has been misinterpreted into a settled and un- among tiled roofs and stacks of chimneys, while.
natural hostility.                              those of my sitting-room  commanded a full view
" For my part, I consider this jealous sensibility  of the stable-yard. I know of nothing more calcuas belonging to generous natures. I should look  lated to make a man sick of this world than a stableupon my countrymen as fallen indeed from that yard on a rainy day. The place was littered with
independence of spirit which is their birth-gift; as wet straw that had been kicked about by travellers
fallen indeed from that pride of character, which  and stable-boys. In one corner was a stagnant
they inherit from the proud nation from which they  pool of water, surrounding an island of muck.
sprung. could they tamely sit down under the in- There were several half-drowned fowls crowded
fliction of contumely and insult. Indeed, the very  together under a cart, among which was a miseraimpatience which they show as to the misrepre- ble, crest-fallen cock, drenched out of all life and
sentations of the press, proves their respect for Eng- spirit; his drooping tail matted, as it were, into a
lish opinion, and their desire for English amity; for single feather, along which the water trickled from
there is never jealousy where there is not strong  his back. Near the cart was a half-dozing cow,
regard.                                         chewing the cud, and standing patiently to be rained
" To the magnanimous spirits of both countries on, with wreaths of vapour rising from her reeking
must we trust to carry such a natural alliance of hide. A wall-eyed horse, tired of the loneliness
affection into full effect. To pens more powerful of the stable, was poking his spectral head out of
than mine 1 leave the noble task of promoting the a window, with the rain dripping on it from the
cause of national amity.  To the intelligent and eaves. An unhappy cur, chained to a dog-house
enlightened of my own country, I address my  hard by, uttered something every now and tren,
parting voice, entreating them to show themselves between a bark and a yelp. A drab of a kitchen:
superior co the petty attacks of the ignorant and the wench tramped backwards and forwards through
worthless, and still to look with a dispassionate and  the yard in pattens, looking as sulky as the weather
philosophic eye to the moral character of England, itself. Every thing, in short, was comfortless and
as the intellectual source of our own rising great- forlorn-excepting a crew of hard-drinking ducks,
ness; while I appeal to every generous-minded  assembled like boon companions round a puddle,
Englishman from the slanders which disgrace the and making a riotous noise over their liquor.
press, insult the understanding, and belie the mag-    "I sauntered to the window and stood gazing at
nanimity of his country: and I invite him to look  the people, picking their way to church, with pettito America, as to a kindred nation, worthy of its coats hoisted mid-leg high, and dripping umbrellas.
origin; giving, in the healthy vigour of its growth, The bells ceased to toll, and the streets became,
the best of comments on its parent stock; and re- silent. I then amused myself with watching the
fleeting, in the dawning brightness of its fame, the daughters of a tradesman opposite; who, being conmoral effulgence of British glory.              fined to the house for fear of wetting their Sunday
"I am sure, too, that such appeal will not be finery, played off their charms at the front win
made in vain. Indeed I have noticed, for some dows, to fascinate the chance tenants of the inn..
time past, an essential change in English sentiment They at length were summoned away by a vigiiant
with regard to America. In Parliament, that foun- vinegar-faced mother, and I had nothing further,
tain-head of public opinion, there seems to be an from without to amuse me.
emulation, on both sides of the House, in holding    " The day continued lowering and gloomy. The
tlhe language of courtesy and friendship. The same slovenly, ragged, spongy clouds, drifted heavily
41




642                                  MISCELLANEOUS.
along. There was no variety even in the rain; it and moan if there is the least draught of air When
was onedull, continued, monotonous patter-pat- any one enters the room, they make a most tyran.
ter-patter, excepting that now and then I was nical barking that is absolutely deafening. They
enlivened by the idea of a brisk shower, from  the are insolent to all the other dogs of the establishrattling of the drops upon a passing umbrella. It ment. There is a noble stag-hound, a great favourite
was quite refreshing (if I may be allowed a hack- of the squire's, who is a privileged visitor to the
neyed phrase of the day) when, in the course of the parlour; but the moment he makes his appearance,
morning, a horn blew, and a stage coach whirled  these intruders fly at him with furious rage; and I
through the street, with outside passengers stuck  have admired the sovereign indifference and con.
all over it, cowering under cotton umbrellas, and  tempt with which he seems to look down upon his
seethed together, and reeking with the steams of puny assailants. When her ladyship drives out,
wet box-coats and upper Benjamins. The sound  these dogs are generally carried with her to take
brought out from their lurking-places a crew of the air; when they look out of each window of the
vagabond boys, and vagabond dogs, and the car- carriage, and bark at all vulgar pedestrian dogs."
roty-headed hostler, and that nondescript animal Vol. i. pp. 75-77.
ycleped Boots, and all the other vagabond race that
infest the purlieus of an inn; but the bustle was    We shall venture on but one extract more
transient.  The coach again whirled on its way, -and it shall be a specimen of the author's
and boy and dog, and hostler and Boots, all slunk  more pensive vein.  It is from  the chapter
back again to their holes. The street again became of "Family Reliques - and affords, especially
silent,' and the rain continued to rain on.
" The evening gradually wore away. The travel- in the latter part, another striking instance of
lers read the papers two or three times over. Some the pathetic melody of his style.  The introdrew round the fire, and told long stories about ductory part is also a good specimen of his
their horses, about their adventures, their overturns, sedulous, and  not altogether unsuccessful
and breakings-down. They discussed the credits of imitation of the inimitable diction and collodifferent merchants and different inns; and the two
wags told several choice anecdotes of pretty cham- al graces of Add
bermaids and kind landladies. All this passed as   "The place, however, which abounds most with
they were quietly taking what they called their mementos of past times, is the picture gallery; and
night-caps, that is to say, strong glasses of brandy  there is something strangely pleasing, though meland water and sugar, or some other mixture of the anchoy, n considering the long rows of portraits
kisnd; after which, they one after another rangfor  which compose the greater part of the collection.
"Boots" and the chambermaid, and walked off to  They furnish a kind of narrative of the lives of the
bed, in old shoes, cut down into marvellously un- fanily worthies, which I am enabled to read with
comfortable slippers.                           the assistance of the venerable housekeeper, who
There was only one man left; a short-legged, is the family chronicler, prompted occasionally by
long-bodied, plethoric fellow, with a very large Master Simon.  There is the progress of a fine
sandy head. He sat by himself with a glass of port lady, for instance, through a variety of portraits.
wisn  negus, and a spoon; sipping and stirring, and  One represents her as a little girl, with a long waist
meditating and sipping, until nothing was left but and hoop, holding a kitten in her arms, and ogling
the spoon. He gradually fell asleep bolt upright in  the spectator out of the corners of her   eyes, as gling
his chair, with the empty glass standing before him; she could not turn her head. In another we find
and the candle seemed to fall asleep too! for the  her in the freshness of youthful beauty, when she
wick grew long, and black, and cabbaged at the  was a celebrated belle, and so hard-hearted as to
end, and dimmed the little light that remained in  cause several unfortunate gentlemen to run despethe chamber. The gloom that now prevailed was       and write bad
contagious. Around hung the shapeless, and almost picted  as a statel y dame, in anothe maturity  of her
spectral box-coats of departed travellers, long since charms, next to the portrait of her husband, a galburied in deep sleep. I only heard the ticking of lant colonel in full-bottomed wig and gold-laced hat,
the clock, with the deep-drawn breathings of the who was killed abroad: and, finally, her monument
sleeping toper, and the drippings of the rain, drop  is in the church, the spire of which may be seen
-drop-drop, from the eaves of the house."       from the window, where her effigy is carved in
Vol. i. pp. 112-130.   marble, and represents her as a venerable dame of
The whole description of the Lady Lilly- seventy-six.-There is one group that particularly
craft is equally good in its way; but we can  interested me. It consisted of four sisters of nearly
only make room for the portraits of her canine  the same age, who flourished about a century since,
attendants.                                     and, if I may judge from their portraits, were extremely beautiful. I can imagine what a scene of
"  he has brought two dogs with her also, out gaiety and romance this old mansion must have
of a number of pets which she maintains at home. been, when they were in the hey-day of their
One is a fat spaniel, called Zephyr-though heaven charms; when they passed like beautiful visions
defend me from such a zephyr! He is fed out of through its halls, or stepped daintily to music in the
all shape and comfort; his eyes are nearly strained  revels and dances of the cedar gallery; or printed,
out of his head; he wheezes with corpulency, and with delicate feet, the velvet verdure of these
cannot walk without great difficulty. The other lawns," &c.
is a little, old, grey-muzzled curmudgeon, with an    " When I look at these faint records of gallantry
unhappy eye, that kindles like a coal if you only and tenderness; when I contemplate the fading
look at him; his nose turns up; his mouth is drawn portraits of these beautiful girls, and think that
into wrinkles, so as to show his teeth; in short, he they have long since bloomed, reigned, grown old,
has altogether the look of a dog far gone in misan- died, and passed away, and with them  all their
thropy, and totally sick of the world. When he graces, their triumphs, their rivalries, their admiwalks, he has his tail curled up so tight that it seems rers; the whole empire of love and pleasure in which
to lift his hind feet from the ground; and he seldom  they ruled-' all dead, all buried, all14.)rgotten,'makes use of more than three legs at a time, keep- I find a cloud of melancholy stealing over the presing the other drawn up as a reserve. This last ent gaieties around me. I was gazing, in a musing
wretch is called Beauty.                        mood, this very morning, at the portrait of the lady
" These dogs are full of elegant ailments un- whose husband was killed abroad, when the fair
known to vulgar dogs; and are petted and nursed  Julia entered the gallery, leaning on the arm of the
by Lady Lillycraft with the tenderest kindness. captain. The sun shone through the row of winThey have cushions for their express use, on which dows on her as she passed along, and she seemed
thev lie before the fire. and yet are apt to shiver to beam out each time into brightness, and relapse




CLARKSON ON QUAKERISM.                               64i
again ilrto shade. until the door at the bottom of the Addison. Of the exotic Tales which serve tc
gallery finally closed after her. I felt a sadness of fill up the volumes, that of" Dolph Heyliger"
heart at the idea that thisun wahine and shade, and is incomparably the best-and is more charall this life, and loveliness, and enjoyment, will acteristic, perhaps both of the author's turn
have ceased, and nothing be left to commemorate of imagination and cast of humour, than any
this beautiful being but one more perishable por- thing else in the work. "The Student of
trait: to awaken, perhaps, the trite speculations of Salamanca" is too long; and deals rather
some future loiterer, like myself, when I also and largely in the commonplaces of romantic admy scribblings shall have lived through our brief' venture:- while "Annette de la Barbers
existence and been forgotten." —Vol. i. pp. 64, 65.
though pretty and pathetic in some passages,
We can scarcely afford room even to al- is, on the whole, ratherfade and finical-and
lude to the rest of this elegant miscellany. too much in the style of the sentimental after"Ready-money Jack" is admirable through- pieces which we have lately borrowed from
out-and the old General very good. The the Parisian theatres.
lovers are, as usual, the most insipid. The   On the whole, we are very sorry to receive
Gypsies are sketched with great elegance as Mr. Crayon's farewell-and we return it with
well as spirit-and Master Simon is quite de- the utmost cordiality. We thank him most
lightful, in all the varieties of his ever versa- sincerely, Iqr the pleasure he has given ustile character.  Perhaps the most pleasing for the kindness he has shown to our country
thing about all these personages, is the perfect -and  for the lessons he has taught, both
innocence and singleness of purpose which here and in his native land, of good taste,
seems to belong to them-and which, even good nature,and nationalliberality. We hope
when it raises a gentle smile at their expense, he will come back among us soon-and rebreathes over the whole scene they inhabit member us while he is away; and can assure
an air of attraction and respect-like that him, that he is in no danger of being speedily
which reigns in the De Coverley pictures of forgotten.
(2Lpril, 18o7.)
d Portraiture of Quakerism, as taken from a View of the Moral Education, Discipline, Peculiar
Customs, Religious Principles, Political and Civil Economy, and Character of the Society of
Friends. By THOMAS CLARKSON, M. A. Author of several Essays on the Subject of the
Slave Trade. 8vo. 3 vols. London: 1806.
THIS, we think, is a book peculiarly fitted might evidently have been told, either under
for reviewing: For it contains many things the head of their Doctrinal tenets, or of their
which most people will have some curiosity peculiar Practices; but Mr. Clarkson, with a
to hear about; and is at the same time so in- certain elaborate infelicity of method, chooses
tolerably dull and tedious, that no voluntary to discuss the merits of this society under the
reader could possibly get through with it.   several titles, of their moral education-their
The author, whose meritorious exertions for discipline-their peculiar customs-their rethe abolition of the slave trade brought him  ligion-their great tenets-and their characinto public notice a great many years ago, ter; and not finding even this ample distribuwas recommended by this circumstance to tion sufficient to include all he had to say on
the favour and the confidence of the Quakers, the subject, he fills a supplemental half-vowho had long been unanimous in that good lume, with repetitions and trifles, under the
cause; and was led to such an extensive and humiliating name of miscellaneous particulars.
cordial intercourse with them in all parts of   Quakerism had certainly undergone a conthe kingdom, that he came at last to have a siderable change in the quality and spirit of
more thorough knowledge of their tenets and its votaries, from the time when George Fox
living manners than any other person out of went about pronouncing woes against cities,
the society could easily obtain. The effect attacking priests in their pulpits, and exhortof this knowledge has evidently been to ex- ing justices of the peace to do justice, to the
cite in him  such an affection and esteem  time when such men as Penn and Barclay
for those worthy sectaries, as we think can came into the society "by convincement,"
scarcely fail to issue in his public conversion; and published such vindications of its docand, in the mean time, has produced a more trine, as few of its opponents have found it
minute exposition, and a more elaborate de- convenient to answer.  The change since
fence of.leir doctrines and practices, than their time appears to have been much less
has recently been drawn from any of their considerable. The greater part of these voown body.                                 lumes may be considered, indeed, as a wilful
The book, which is full of repetitions and deterioration of Barclay's Apology: and it is
plagiarisms, is distributed into a number of only where he treats of the private manners
needless sections, arranged in a most unna- and actual opinions of the modern Quakerfs
tural and inconvenient order. All that any that Mr. Clarkson communicates any thing
body can want to know about the Quakers, which a curious reader might not have learnt




644                                MISCELLANEOUS.
from that celebrated production. The lauda- other purpose, but to mortify himself into a
tory and argumentative tone which he main- proper condition for the next;-that all our
tains throughout, gives an air of partiality to feelings of ridicule and sociality, and all the
his statements which naturally diminishes spring and gaiety of the animal spirits of
our reliance on their accuracy: and as the youth, were given us only for our temptation;
argument is often extremely bad, and the and that, considering the shortness of this life,
praise apparently unmerited, we are rather and the risk he runs of damnation after it,
inclined to think that his work will make a man ought evidently to pass his days in deless powerful impression in favour of the  jection and terror, and to shut his heart to
"friends," than might have been effected by every pleasurable emotion which this transia more moderate advocate. With many praise- tory scene might hold out to the unthinking.
worthy maxims and principles for their moral The fundamental folly of these ascetic maxconduct, the Quakers, we think, have but little ims has prevented the Quakers from adoptto say for most of their peculiar practices; and  ing them  in their full extent; but all the
make a much better figure when defending peculiarities of their manners may evidently
their theological mysteries, than when vindi- be referred to this source; and the qualificacating the usages by which they are separated  tions and exceptions under which they mainfrom the rest of the people in the ordinary in- tain the duty of abstaining from  enjoyment,
tercourse of life. It will be more convenient, serve only, in most instances, to. bring upon
however, to state our observations on their their reasonings the additional charge of inreasonings, as we attend Mr. Clarkson through consistency.
his account of their principles and practice.   Their objection to cards, dice, wagers, horseHe enters upon his task with such a wretch- races, &c. is said to be, first, that they may
ed display of false eloquence, thaf we were lead to a spirit of gaming, which leads, again,
very near throwing away the book.. Our to obvious unhappiness and immorality; but
readers will scarcely accuse us of impatience, chiefly, that they are sources of amusement
when we inform  them  that the dissertation  unworthy of a sober Christian, and tend. by
on the moral education of the Quakers begins producing an unreasonable excitement, to diswith the following sentence:-                turb that tranquillity and equanimity which
"' When the blooming spring sheds abroad its they look upon as essential to moral virtue,
benign influence, man feels it equally with the rest   " They believe," says Mr. Clarkson, " that si 11.
of created nature. The blood circulates more freely, ness and quietness both of spirit and of body, are
and a new current of life seems to be diffused in his necessary, as far as they can be obtained. Hence,
veins.'TIhe aged man is enlivened, and the sick  Quaker children are rebuked for all expressions of
man feels himself refreshed.  Good spirits and anger, as tending to raise those feelings which
cheerful countenances succeed. But as the year ought to be suppressed: a raising even of the voice
changes in its seasons, and rolls round to its end, beyond die bounds, is discouraged as leading to
the tide seenls to slacken, and the current of feeling the disturbance of their minds. They are taught
to return to its former level." —Vol. i. p. 13.  to rise in the morning in quietness; to go about
their ordinary occupation with quietness; and to
This may serve, once for all, as a specimen  retire in quietness to their beds."
of Mr. Clarkson's taste and powers in fine
writing) and as an apology for our abstaining.          this we think, IS a very miserable.riting, andt as an apology  for our abs      picture.  The great curse of life, we believe,
in our charity, for making any further ob- in all conditions above the lowest, is its exservations on his style. Under the head of in all conditions above the lowest, is its exmoral education, we are informed that the cessive stillness and quietness, and the want
Quakers discourage, and strictly prohibit in of interest and excitement which it affords:
Quakers discourage, and strictly prohibit iand though we certainly do not approve of
their youth, all games of chance, music, dan- and though we ce           rtainly d o not approve of
cing, novel reading, field sports of every de- the spirits, we   as the best exhilanators of
seription, and, in general, the use of idle  the spirit  we cannot possibly concur in the
words and unprofitable  conversation.  The principle upon which they are rejected with
motiverds and uof these several prohibitions are dis-such abhorrence by this rigid society.  A remotives of these several prohibitions are dis- mark which Mr. Clarkson himself makes af.
cussed in separate chapters of extreme dul- terwards, might have led him to doubt of the
ness and prolixity. It is necessary, however, soundness of their petrifying principles.
in order to come to a right understanding
with those austere persons and their apologist    " It has often been observed," he says, " that a
to enter a little into the discussion.  ~     Quaker Boy has an unnatural appearance. The
nThe basis of the Quaker morality seems idea has arisen from his dress and his sedateness,
The basis of the Quaker morality seems which, taken together, have produced an appearevidently to be, that gaiety and merriment ance of age above the youth in his countenance. I
ought, upon all occasions, to be discouraged; have often been surprised to hear young Quakers
that everything which tends merely to ex- talk of the folly and vanity of pursuits in which perhilaration or enjoyment, has in it a taint of sons, older than themselves, were then embarking
criminality; and that one of the chief duties in pursuit of pleasure." &c.
of man is to be always serious and solemn,   We feel no admiration, we will confess, fo;
andi constantly occupied, either with  his prodigies of this description; and think that
worldly prosperity, or his eternal welfare. If the world is but little indebted to those moralit were not for the attention which is thus ists, who, in their efforts to ameliorate our
permitted to the accumulation of wealth, the condition, begin with constraining the volatile
Quakers would scarcely be distinguishable  spirit of childhood into sedateness, and extin.
from  the other gloomy sectaries, who main- guishing the happy carelessness and anima.
tain, that man was put into this world for no tion of youth, by lessons of eternal quietnes&




CtLARKSON ON QUAKERISM.                                 644
The next chapter is against music; and is, recommendation which must operate in its fa.
as might be expected, one of the most absurd vour, in the first instance at least, even with
and extravagant of the whole. This is Mr. the most rigid moralist. The only sound or
Clarkson's statement of the Quaker reasoning consistent form of the argument, in short, is
against this delightful art.                that which was manfully adopted by the mor" Providence gave originally to man a beautiful tified hermits of the early ages; but is exand a perfect world. He filled it with things neces- pressly disclaimed for the Quakers by their
sary, and things delightful: and yet man has often present apologist, viz. that our well-being in
turned these from their true and original design. this world is a matter of so very little con.The very wood on the surface of the earth he has cern, that it is altogether unworthy of a reacut down, and the very stone and metal in its bowels sonable being to bestow  any care upon it; and
he has hewn and cast, and converted into a graven sonable being to bestow any care upon It; and
image, and worshipped in the place of his benefi-that our chance of well-being in another world
cent Creator. The food which he has given him  depends so much upon our anxious endeavours
for his nourishment, he has frequently converted after piety upon earth. that it is our duty to
by his intemperance into the means of injuring his employ every moment of our fleeting and
health. The wine, that was designed to make his uncertain lives in meditation and prayer and
heart glad, on reasonable and necessary occasions,ether sinful and imprudent
he has used often to the stupefaction of his senses,
and the degradation of his moral character. The to indulge any propensities which may inter.
very raiment, which has been afforded him for his rupt those holy exercises, or beget in us any
body, he has abused also, so that it has frequently interest in sublunary things.
become a source for the excitement of his pride.  There is evidently a tacit aspiration after
" Just so it has been, and so it is, with Music, at this sublime absurdity in almost all the Quaker prohibitions; and we strongly suspect,
We do not think we ever before met with that honest George Fox, when he inhabited a
an argument so unskilfully, or rather so pre- hollow tree in the vale of Beevor, taught nothposterously put: Since, if it follows, from these ing less to his disciples. The condemnation
premises, that music ought to be entirely re- of music and dancing, and all idle speaking,
jected and avoided, it must follow also, that was therefore quite consistent in him; but
we should go naked, and neither eat nor drink! since the permission of gainful arts, and of
and as to the arguments that follow against most of the luxuries which wealth can prothe cultivation of music, because there are cure, to his disciples, it is no longer so easy to
some obscene and some bacchanalian songs, reconcile these condemnations, either to reawhich it would be improper for young persons son, or to the rest of their practice. A Quaker
to learn, they are obviously capable of being may. suspend all apparent care of his salvaused, with exactly the same force, against tion, and occupy himself entirely with his
their learning to read, because there are im- worldly business, for six days in the week,
moral and heretical books, which may possi- like any other Christian. It is even thought
bly fall into their hands. The most authentic laudable in him to set an example of diligence
and sincere reason, however, we believe, is and industry to those around him; and the
one which rests immediately upon the gene- fruits of this industry he is by no means reral ascetic principle to which we have already quired to bestow in relieving the poor, or for
made reference, viz. that "music tends to the promotion of piety. He is allowed to emself-gratification, which is not allowable in the ploy it for self-gratification, in almost every
Christian system."  Now, as this same self- way-but the most social and agreeable! He
denying principle is really at the bottom of may keep an excellent table and garden, and
most of the Quaker prohibitions, it may be be driven about in an easy chariot by a pious
worth while to consider, in a few words, how  coachman and two, or even four, plump horses;
far it can be reconciled to reason or morality. but his plate must be without carving, and his
All men, we humbly conceive, are under carriage and horses (perhaps his flowers also)
the necessity of pursuing their own happiness; of a dusky colour. His guests may talk of
and cannot even be conceived as ever pursu- oxen and broadcloth as long as they think fit,
ing any thing else. The only difference be- but wit and gaiety are entirely proscribed,
tween the sensualist and the ascetic is, that and topics of literature but rarely allowed.
the former pursues an immediate, and the His boys and girls are bred up to a premature
other a remote happiness; or, that the one knowledge of bargaining and housekeeping;
pursues an intellectual, and the other a bodily but when their bounding spirits are struggling
gratification.  The penitent who passes his in every limb, they must not violate their sedays in mortification, does so unquestionably dateness by a single skip;-their stillness must
from the love of enjoyment; either because not be disturbed by raising their voices behe thinks this the surest way to attain eternal yond their common pitch;-and they would
happiness in a future world, or because he be disowned, if they were to tune their innofinds the admiration of mankind a sufficient cent voices in a hymn to their great Benefaccompensation, even in this life, for the hard- tor! We cannot help saying, that all this is
ships by which he extorts it. It appears, absurd and indefensible.  Either let the Quatherefore, that self-gratification, so far from  kers renounce all the enjoyments of this life,
being an unlawful object of pursuit, is neces- or take all that are innocent. The pursuit of
sarily the only object which a rational being wealth surely holdls out a greater temptation
can be conceived to pursue; and consequently, to immorality, than the study of music. Let
that to argue against any practice, merely that them, then, either disown those who accumu
it is attended with enjoyment, is to give it a late more than is necessary for their subsist.




646                            MISCELLANEOUS.
ence, or permit those who have leisure, to not so much, Mr. Clarkson assures ius, on a..
employ it in something better than money- count of their fictitious nature, though that is
getting. To allow a man to have a house and ground enough for the abhorrence of many
retinue, from the expenses of which fifty poor Quakers, but on account of their general imfamilies might be supported, and at the same morality, and their tendency to produce an
time to interdict a fold in his coat, or a ruffle undue excitement of mind, and to alienate
to his shirt, on account of their costliness and the attention from objects of serious importvanity, is as ridiculous, and as superstitious, ance.  These are good reasons against the
as it is for the Church of Rome to permit one reading of immoral novels, and against makof her cardinals to sit down, on a meagre day, ing them  our sole or our principal study.
to fifty costly and delicious dishes of fish and Other moralists are contented with selecting
pastry, while it excommunicates a peasant for an4 limiting the novels they allow to be read.
breaking through the holy abstinence with a The Quakers alone make it an abomination to
morsel of rusty bacon. With those general read any; which is like prohibiting all use of
impressions, we shall easily dispose of their wine or animal food, instead of restricting our
other peculiarities.                     censures to the excess or abuse of them.
The amusements of the theatre are strictly   Last of all, the sports of the field are proforbidden to Quakers of every description; hibited, partly on account of the animal sufand this, partly because many plays are im- fering they produce, and partly from the habmoral, but chiefly because, on the stage, its of idleness and ferocity which they are
" men personate characters that are not their supposed to generate. This is Mr. Clarkson's
own; and thus become altogether sophisti- account of the matter; but we shall probably
cated in their looks, words, and actions, which form a more correct idea of the true Quaker
is contrary to the simplicity and truth requir- principle, from being told that George Fox
ed by Christianity!"  We scarcely think the " considered that man in the fall, or the aposQuakers will be much obliged to Mr. Clarkson tate man, had a vision so indistinct and vitiafor imputing this kind of reasoning to them: ted, that he could not see the animals of the
And, for our own parts, we would much rather creation as he ought; but that the man who
hear at once that the play-house wasthe Devil's was restored, or the spiritual Christian, had a
drawing-room, and that the actors painted new and clear discernment concerning them,
their faces, and therefore deserved the fate of which would oblige him to consider and treat
Jezebel. As to the sin of personating charac- them in a proper manner."  The Quakers,
ters not their own, and sophisticating their however, allow the netting of animals for
looks and words, it is necessarily committed food; and cannot well object therefore tq
by every man who reads aloud a Dialogue shooting them, provided it be done about for
from the New Testament, or who adopts, the same economical purpose, and not for
from the highest authority, a dramatic form  self-gratification,-at least in the act of killing.
in his preaching. As to the other objection,   Mr. Clarkson proceeds next to discuss the
that theatrical amusements produce too high discipline, as he calls it, or interior governa degree of excitement for the necessary se- ment of the Quaker society; but we think it
dateness of a good Christian, we answer, in more natural to proceed to the consideration
the first place, that we do not see why a good of what he announces as their peculiar cusChristian should be more sedate than his inno- tomrs, which, for any thing we see, might all
cence and natural gaiety may dispose him to have been classed among the prohibitions
be; and, in the second place, that the objection which constitute their moral education.
proves Mr. Clarkson to be laudably ignorant of   The first, is the peculiarity of their dress.
the state of the modern drama,-which. we The original rule, he says, was only that it
are credibly informed, is by no means so ex- should be plain and cheap. He vindicates
tremely interesting, as to make men neglect George Fox, we think very successfully, from
their business and their duties to run after it. the charge of having gone about in a leathern
Next comes dancing.-The Quakers pro- doublet; and maintains, that the present dress
hibit this strictly; lst, because it implies the of the Quakers is neither more nor less than
accompaniment of music, which has been the common dress of grave and sober persons
already interdicted; 2dly, because i" it is use- of the middling rank at the first institution of
less, and below the dignity of the Christian the society; and that they have retained it,
character;!" 3dly, because it implies assem- not out of any superstitious opinion of its
blies of idle persons, which lead to thought- sanctity, but because they thought it would
lessness as to the important duties of life; indicate a frivolous vanity to change it, unless
4thly, because it gives rise to silly vanity, and for some reason of convenience. We should
envying, and malevolence. The lovers of have thought it convenience enough to avoid
dancing, we think, will be able to answer singularity and misconstruction of motives.
those objections without our farther assist- Except that the men now wear loops to their
ance; suchof them as have not been already hats, and that the women have in a great
obviated, are applicable, and are in fact ap- measure given up their black hoods and green
plied by the Quakers, to every species of ac- aprons. their costume is believed to be almost
complishment.  They are applicable also, exactly the same as it was two hundred years
though the Quakers do not so apply them, to ago. They have a similar rule as to their
all money-getting occupations in which there furniture; which, though sometimes elegant
is room for rivaliy and competition.     and costly, is uniformly plain, and free from
The reading of novels is next prohibited, glare or ostentation. In conformity with thie




CLARKSON ON QUAKERISM.                               647
principle,they do not decorate their houses with   The same observations apply to the other
pictures or prints, and in general discourage Quaker principle of refusing to call any man
the practice of taking portraits; for which Mr. or Sir; or to subscribe themselves in their
piece of abstinence Mr. Clarkson gives the fol- letters, as any man's humble servant. Their
lowing simplereason. " The first Quakers con- reasons for this refusal, are, first, that the
sidering themselves as poor helpless creatures, common phrases import a falsehood; and,
and as little better than dust and ashes, had secondly, that they puff up vain man with
but a mean idea of their own images!"    conceit. Now, as to the falsehood, we have
One of the most prominent peculiarities in to observe, that the words objected to. really
the Quaker customs, relates to their language. do not mean any thing about bondage or do.
They insist, in the first place, upon saying minion when used on those occasions; and
thou instead of you; and this was an innova- neither are so understood, nor are in danger
tion upon which their founder seems to have of being so understood, by any one who hears
valued himself at least as much as upon any them. Words are significant sounds; and
other part of his system. " The use of thou," beyond question, it is solely in consequence
says honest George Fox, with visible cornm- of the meaning they convey, that men can be
placency, "was a sore cut to proud flesh!" responsible for using them. Now the only
and many beatings, and revilings, and hours meaning which can be inquired after in this
of durance in the stocks, did he triumphantly respect, is the meaning of the person who
endure for his intrepid adherence to this gram- speaks, and of the person who hears; but
matical propriety. Except that it is (or rather neither the speaker nor the hearer, with us,
was) grammatically correct, we really can see understand the appellation of Mr., prefixed to
no merit in this form of speech. The chief a man's name, to import any mastership or
Quaker reason for it, however, is, that the use dominion in him relatively to the other. It is
of " you 1 to a single person is a heinous piece merely a customary addition, which means
of flattery, and an instance of the grossest nothing but that you wish to speak of the inand meanest adulation. It is obvious, how- dividual with civility. That the word em
ever, that what is applied to all men without ployed to signify this, is the same word, or
exception, cannot well be adulation. If princes very near the same word, with one which, on
and patrons alone were called " you," while other occasions, signifies a master over ser" thou " was still used to inferiors or equals, vants, does not at all affect its meaning upon
we could understand why the levelling prin- this occasion. It does not, in fact, signify any
ciple of the Quakers should set itself against such thing when prefixed to a man's propel
the distinction; but if "you" be invariably name; and though it might have been used
and indiscriminately used to the very lowest at first out of servility, with a view to that reof mankind,-to negroes, felons, and toad- lation, it is long since that connection has been
eaters, —it is perfectly obvious, that no per- lost; and it now signifies nothing but what is
son's vanity can possibly be puffed up by re- perfectly true and correct.
ceiving it; and that the most contemptuous   Etymology can point out a multitude of
misanthropist may employ it without any words which, with the same sound and orthoscruple. Comparing the said pronouns to- graphy, have thus come to acquire a variety
gether, indeed, in this respect, it is notorious, of significations, and which even the Quakers
that -' thou " is, with us, by far the most flat- think it sufficiently lawful to use in them all.
tering compellation of the two. It is the form  A stage, for example, signifies a certain disin which men address the Deity; and in which tance on the road-or a raised platform —or a
all tragical love letters, and verses of solemn carriage that travels periodically-or a certain
adulation, are conceived.  "You" belongs point in the progress of any affair. It could
unquestionably to familiar and equal conver- easily be shown, too, that all these different
sation. In truth, it is altogether absurd to meanings spring from each other, and were
consider "you"' as exclusively a plural pro- gradually attributed to what was originally
noun in the modern English language. It may one and the same word. The words, how
be a matter of history that it was originally ever, are now substantially multiplied, to cor
used as a plural only; and it may be a matter respond with the meanings; and though they
of theory that it was first applied to individu- have the same sound and orthography, are
als on a principle of flattery; but the fact is, never confounded by any one who is acthat it is now our second person singular. quainted with the language. But thereis, in
When applied to an individual, it never ex- fact, the same difference between the word
cites any idea either of plurality or of adula- master, implying power and authority over
tion; but excites precisely and exactly the servants, and the word Master or Mister preidea that was excited by the use of C" thou " fixed to a proper name, and implying merely
in an earlier stage of the language. There is a certain degree of respect and civility. That
no more impropriety in the use of it, there- there is no deception either intended or effectfore, than in the use of any modern term  ed, must be admitted by the Quakers themwhich has superseded an obsolete one; nor selves; and it is not easy to conceive how the
any more virtue in reviving the use of C thou," guilt of falsehood can be incurred without
than there would be in reviving any other an- some such intention. Upon the very same
tiquated word. It would be just as reasonable principle, they would themselves be guilty
to talk always of our doublets and hose, and of falsehood, if they called a friend by his
eschew all mention of coats or stockings, as a name of Walker, when he was mounted in
tearful abomination.                      his one-horse chaise, or by his name of




648                             MISCELLANEOUS.
Smith, if he did not happen to be a worker in hats on."  Is it possible however to believe,
metal.                                    that any rational being can imagine that there
The most amusing part of the matter, how- is any sin in lifting off one's hat. or bending
ever, is, that in their abhorrence of this ety- the body? It is an easy and sufficiently conmological falsehood; they have themselves venient way of showing our respect or attenadopted a practice, which is liable, on the tion. A good-natured man could do a great
same principles, to more serious objections. deal more to gratify a mere stranger; and if
Though they wvill not call any body Sir, or there be one individual who would take the
Master, they call every body "Friend " al- omission amiss, that alone would be a suffithough it is evident that, to a stranger, this cient reason for persisting in the practice.
must be mere civility, like the words they re-   Mr. Clarkson next discusses the private
ject, and to an enemy must approach nearly manners of this rigid sect, and admits that
to insincerity. They have rejected an estab- they are rather dull. cold, and taciturn. Their
lished phraseology, therefore, to adopt one principles prohibit them from the use of idle
much more proper to fill them with scruples. words; under which they include every sort
We have dwelt too long, however, on this of conversation introduced'merely for gaiety
paltry casuistry; and must leave our readers or amusement.  Their neglect of classical
to apply these observations to our common literature cuts off another great topic. Poliepistolary salutations, which are exactly in tics are proscribed, as leading to undue
the same predicament.                     warmth; and all sorts of scandal and gossip,
For similar, or rather for more preposterous and allusion to public spectacles or amusereasons, the Quakers have changed the names ments. for a more fundamental reason. Thus,
of the months and of the days of the week. they have little to talk about but their health,
Some of them are named, it seems) after the their business. or their religion; and all these
Heathen gods; and therefore the use of them  things they think it a duty to discuss in a
" seemed to be expressive of a kind of idola- concise and sober manner. They say no
trous homage."  If such a new calendar had graces; but when their meal is on the table
been devised by the original Christians, when they sit silent, and in a thoughtful posture for
March and June were not only named after a short time, waiting for an illapse of the
Mars and Juno, but distinguished by particu- spirit. If they are not moved to make any
lar festivals in their honour, we could have ejaculation, they begin to eat without more
comprehended the motive of the innovation; ado.  They drink no healths, nor toasts;
but, now-a-days, when Mars and Juno are no though not so much from the inconvenience
more thought of than Hector or Hecuba, and of the thing, as because they conceive this to
when men would as soon think of worshipping have been a bacchanalian practice borrowed
an ape or a crocodile as either of them, it from the Heathens of antiquity. They are
does appear to us the very acme of absurdity very sober; and instead of sitting over theil
to suppose that there can be any idolatry in wine after dinner, frequently propose to theii
naming their names. In point of fact, what- guests a walk before tea; the females do not
ever the matter may be etymologically or leave the party during this interval. Theil
historically, we conceive that Wednesday and marriages are attended with no other cereThursday are words in modern English that mony, than that of taking each other by the
have no sort of reference to the gods Woden hand in a public meeting, and declaring their
and Thor: Since they certainly raise no ideas willingness to be united. Notice, however,
connected with those personages, and are must be given of this intention at a previous
never used with the intention of raising any meeting, when the consent of their parents is
such ideas.  As they are used at present, required, and a deputation appointed to intherefore, they do not signify days dedicated quire whether they are free from all previous
to these divinities; but merely the days that engagements. Quakers marrying out of the
come between Tuesday and Friday in our society are disowned, though they may be
calendar. Those who think otherwise must again received into membership, on expressmaintain also. that the English word expedient ing their repentance for their marriage  a deactually signifies untying of feet, and the word claration which cannot be very flattering to
consideration a taking of stars together.  the infidel spouse. There are many more
Another of their peculiar customs is, that women than men disowned for this transgresthey will not pull off their hats. or make a sion. The funerals of the Quakers are as
bow to any body. This is one of their most free from solemnity as their marriages. They
ancient and respected canons. "George Fox,  wear no mourning, and do not even cover
Mr. Clarkson assures us, "was greatly grieved their coffins with black; —they use no prayers
about these idle ceremonies. He lamented on such occasions;-the body is generally
that men should degrade themselves by the carried to the meeting-house, before it is comuse of then, and that they should encourage mitted to the earth, and a short pause is made,
habits that were abhorrent of the truth." during which any one who feels himself
Honest George! He was accordingly repeat- moved to speak, may address the congregaedly beaten and abused for his refractoriness tion; —it is set down for a little time, also, at
in this particular; and a long story is told in the edge of the grave, for the same opportu-,this volume, of a controversy he had with nity; —it is then interred, and the friends and
Judge Glynn, whom he posed with a citation relations walk away. They use no vaults, and
from Daniel, purporting, that the three children erect no monuments, - though tney some.
were cast info the fiery furnace "with their times collect and preserve some account of




CLARKSON ON QUAKERISM.                                 64.
the lives and sayings of their more eminent discuss this point with Mr. Clarkson; indeed.
and pious brethren.                        from the obstruction which this scruple has so
On the subject of trade there is a good deal often occasioned to law proceedings, it has
of casuistry among the Quakers. They strictly been discussed much oftener than any of the
prohibit the slave-trade, and had the merit of rest. Those who want to see a neat and forcipassing a severe censure upon it so long ago ble abstract of the Quaker reasoning on the
as 1727.  They also prohibit privateering, subject, had better look into Barclay at once,
smuggling, and all traffic in weapons of war. instead of wading through the amplification
Most other trades they allow; but under cer- of Mr. Clarkson.
tain limitations. A Quaker may be a book-   Their third great tenet is, That it is unlawseller, but he must not sell any immoral ful to engage in the profession of arms. This
book. He may be a dealer in spirits; but he is founded entirely upon a literal interpretation
must not sell to those whom he knows to be of certain texts of scripture, requiring men to
drunkards. He may even be a silversmith; love and bless their enemies, and to turn one
but he must not deal in splendid ornaments cheek to him who had smitten the other, &c.
for the person. In no case may he recom- It is commonly supposed, we believe, that
mend his goods,as fashionable. It is much and these expressions were only meant to shadow
learnedly disputed in this volume, whether out, by a kind of figure, that amicable and
he may make or sell ribands and other fine- gentle disposition by which men should be
ries of this sort; or whether, as a tailor or actuated in their ordinary intercourse with
hatter, he may furnish any other articles than each other, and by no means as a literal and
such as the society patronises. Mention is peremptory directory for their conduct through
also made of a Quaker tailor well known to life. In any other sense, indeed, they would
King James II., who was so scrupulous in evidently amount to an encouragement to all
this respect, that "he would not allow his sorts of violence and injustice; and would enservants to put any corruptive finery upon tirely disable and annihilate all civil governthe clothes which he had been employed to ment, or authority among men. If evil is not
furnish;" and of one John Woolman, who to be resisted, and if the man who takes a
" found himself sensibly weakened as a Chris- cloak is to be pressed to a coat also, it is plain
tian, whenever he traded in things that served that the punishment of thieves and robbers
chiefly to please the vain mind, or people." must be just as unlawful as the resisting of
Apart from  these fopperies, however, the invaders. It is remarkable, indeed, that the
Quaker regulations for trade are excellent. Quakers do not carry their literal submission
They discourage all hazardous speculations, to the scripture quite this length. They would
and all fictitious paper credit. If a member struggle manfully for their cloaks; and, inbecomes bankrupt, a committee is appointed  stead of giving the robber their coats also,
to inspect his affairs. If his insolvency is re- would be very glad to have him imprisoned
ported to have been produced by misconduct, and flogged. If they can get rid of the letter
he is disowned, and cannot be received back of the law, however, in any case, it does aptill he has paid his whole debts, even although pear to us, that there are occasionally stronger
he may have been discharged on a composition. reasons for dispensing with the supposed proIf he has failed through misfortune, he conti- hibition of war than with any of the others.
nues in the society, but no contributions are If they would be justified in killing a wild
received from  him  till his debts are fully beast that had rushed into their habitation,
paid.                                       they must be justified in killing an invader
When Quakers disagree, they seldom scold; who threatens to subject them and the whole
and never fight or go to law. George Fox community to his brutal lust, rapacity, and
recommended them to settle all their differ- cruelty. We must call it a degrading superences by arbitration; and they have adhered  stition that would withhold the hands of a
to this practice ever since. Where the arbi- man in such an emergency. The last great
trators are puzzled about the law, they may tenet is, That it is unlawful to give pecuniary
agree on a case, and consult counsel. When hire to a gospel ministry.  This, again, is ena Quaker disagrees with a person out of the tirely a war of texts; aided by a confused
society, he generally proposes arbitration in reference to the history of tithes,. from which
the first instance; if this be refused, he has no the following most logical deductions are made.
scruple of going to law.
We should now proceed to give some ac-   "First, that they are not in equity dues of the
count of what Mr. Clarkson has called the Church, -secondly, that the payment of them being
fourGrea enets of theuaker.C s;n bt the.compulsory, it would, if acceded to. be an acknowfour Great Tenets of the Quakers; but the ledgment that the civil magistrate had a right to use
length to which we have already extended force in matters of religion-and, thirdly, that, being
these remarks must confine our observations claimed upon an act which holds them forth as of
to very narrow limits. The first is, That the divine right, any payment of' them would he an accivil magistrate has no right to interfere in re-knowledement of the Jewish religion and that
ligious matters, so as either to enforce attend- Christ had not yet actualy come!-II. 141.
ance on one mode of worship, or to interdict   After perusing all that we have now abany other which is harmless. In this, cer- stracted, Mr. Clarkson's readers might pertainly, their doctrine is liable to very little haps have been presumed capable of forming
objection. Their second great tenet is, That some conclusion for themselves as to the
It is unlawful to swear upon any occasion Quaker character; but the author chooses to
whatsoever. We have not leisure now to make the inference for them, in a dissertation




650                                MISCELLANEOUS.
of one hundred and fifty pages; to which we pares, in its turn, a more general and compre.
must satisfy ourselves, for the present, with hensive report for the great annual meeting
making this general reference. We must use in London.  This assembly, again, hears apthe same liberty with the "Imiscellaneous peals from  the quarterly meetings, and reparticulars," which fill nearly as many pages ceives their reports; and, finally, draws up a
with an attempt to prove that the Quakers are public or pastoral letter to the whole society,
a very happy people, that they have done in which it communicates the most interesting
good by the example of their virtues, and that particulars. as to its general state and condithose who have thoughts of leaving the so- tion, that have been collected from the reports
ciety, had better think twice before they take laid before it,-makes such suitable admonia step of so much consequence.                tions and exhortations for their moral and civil
We come now to say a few words on the conduct, as the complexion of the times, or
subject of their interior government; which  the nature of these reports have suggestedl,appears to us to be formed very much upon  and recommends to their consideration any
the model of the Presbyterian churches so project or proposition that may have been laid
long established in this part of the kingdom. before it, for the promotion of religion, and
The basis of the whole system is, that every the good of mankind.  The slave-trade has,
member of the society is not only entitled, but of late years, generally formed one of the
bound in duty, to watch over the moral and  topics of this general epistle, which is printed
religious deportment of any other whom  he and circulated throughout the society.  In all
has an opportunity of observing, and to inter- their meetings, the male and female deputies
fere for his admonition and correction when  assemble, and transact their business, in sephe sees cause.  Till the year 1698, this duty arate apartments; meeting together only for
was not peculiarly imposed upon any indivi- worship, or for making up their general reports.
dual; but, since that time, four or five persons The wants of the poor are provided for by the
are named in each congregation, under the monthly meetings, who appoint certain overtitle of overseers, who are expected to watch  seers to visit and relieve them: The greater
over the conduct of the flock with peculiar part of these overseers are women; and whatanxiety.  The half of these are women, who  ever they find wanting in the course of their
take charge of their own sex only.  Four or visits, money, clothes, or medicines, they orfive congregations are associated together, and  der, and their accounts are settled by the
hold a general monthly meeting of deputies, treasurer of the monthly meeting.  Where it
of both sexes, from each congregation.  Two  happens that there are more poor in any one
or more of each sex are deputed from these district than can easily be relieved by the more
monthly meetings to the general quarterly opulent brethren within it, the deficiency is
meeting; which reunites all the congregations supplied by the quarterly meeting to which it
of a county, or larger district, according to the is subjected. The children of the poor are all
extent of the Quaker population; and those, taught to read and write at the public expense,
again, send four of each sex to the great yearly and afterwards bound apprentice to trades; -
meeting or convocation; which is regularly  the females are generally destined for service,
assembled in London, and continues its sitting and placed in Quaker families.
for ten or twelve days.                         "Such," says Mr. Clarkson, with a very natural
The method of proceeding, where the con- exultation on the good management of his favourduct of a member has been disorderly, is, first, ites, " such is the organisation of the discipline or
by private admonition, either by individuals, government of the Quakers. Nor may it impropor by the overseers; where this is not effectual, erly be called a Government, when we consider,
the case is reported to the monthly meeting-; that, besides all. matters relating to the church, it
takes cognisance of the actions of Quakers to
who appoint a committee to deal with him, Quakers. and of these to their fellow-citizens; and
and, upon their report, either receive him back  of these, again, to the state; in fact, of all actions
into communion, or expel him  from  the so- of Quakers, if immoral in the eye of the society, as
ciety by a written document, entitled, A Tes- soon as they are known. It gives out its prohibi
timony of Diso wnment.  From this sentence, tions. It marks its crimes. It imposes offices on
however, he may appeal to the quarterly its subjects. It calls them to disciplinary duties.
however, he ayppeltthqur          This government, however, notwithstanding its
meeting, and from that to the yearly. These power, has, as I observed before, no president or
courts of review investigate the case by means head, either permanent or temporary. There is no
of committees; of which none of those who first man through the whole society. Neither has
pronrouncedthe sentence complained of can it any badge of office-or mace, or constable's staff,
be members.                                   or sword. It may be observed, also, that it has no
In the monthly meetings, all presentations office of emolument by which its hands can be
In the monthly meetings, all presentations ftrengthened-neither minister, elder, clerk, overof  marriages are received, and births and fu- seer, or deputy, being paid: and yet its administranerals registered; —contributions and arrange- tion is firmly conducted, and its laws are better
ments are made for the relief of the pac,;-  obeyed than laws by persons under any other depersons are disowned, or received back; —and  nomination or government."  I. 246, 247.
cases of scruples are stated and discussed.   We have nothing now to discuss witn these
They likewise prepare answers to a series of good people, but their religion: and with this
standing queries as to the state and condition  we will not meddle.  It is quite clear to us,
of their several congregations, which they  that their founder George Fox was exceedingly
transmit to the quarterly meeting. The quar- insane; and though we by no means suspect
terly meeting hears appeals, —receives the many of his present followers of the same
reports in answer to these queries,-and pre- malady, we cannot help saying that most of




CLARKSON'S LIFE OF PENN.                               651
*heir peculiar doctrines are too high-flown for society; but cold in their affections. and inour humlble apprehension. They hold that God wardly chilled into a sort of Chinese apathy,
has at all times communicated a certain por- by the restraints to which they are continually
tion of the Spirit, or word, or light, to mankind; subjected; childish and absurd in their relibut has given very different portions of it to gious scruples and peculiar usages. and sindifferent individuals: that, in consequence of gularly unlearned as a sect of theologians;
this inward illumination, not only the ancient but exemplary, above all other sects, for the
patriarchs and prophets, but many of the old decency of their lives, for their charitable inheathen philosophers, were very good Chris- dulgence to all other persuasions, for their care
tians: that no kind of worship or preaching of their poor, and for the liberal participation
can be acceptable or profitable, unless it flow  they have afforded to their women in all the
from the immediate inspiration and movement duties and honours of the society.
of this inward spirit; and that all ordination,   We would not willingly insinuate any thing
or appointment of priests, is therefore impious against the general sincerity of those who reand unavailing. They are much attached to main in communion with this body; but Mr.
the Holy Ghost; but are supposed to reiect Clarkson has himself noticed, that when they
the doctrine of, the Trinity; as they certainly become opulent, they are very apt to fall off
reject the sacraments of Baptism  and the from it; and indeed we do not recollect ever
Lord's Supper, with all other rites, ordinances, to have seen either a Quaker gentleman of
and ceremonies, known or practised in any fortune, or a Quaker day-labourer. The truth
other Christian church. These tenets they is, that ninety-nine out of a hundred of them
justify by various citations from  the New  are engaged in trade; and as they all deal and
Testament, and the older fathers; as any one correspond with each other, it is easy to see
may see in the works of Barclay and Penn, what advantages they must have as traders,
with rather more satisfaction than in this of from belonging to so great a corporation. A
Mr. Clarkson. We enter not at present into few follow the medical profession; and a still
these disputations.                         smaller number that of conveyancing; but
Upon the whole, we are inclined to believe they rely, in both, almost exclusively on the
the Quakers to be a tolerably honest, pains- support of their brethren of the society. It is
taking; and inoffensive set of Christians. Very rather remarkable, that Mr. Clarkson has not
stupid, dull, and obstinate, we presume, in given us any sort of estimate or calculation of
conversation; and tolerably lumpish and fa- their present numbers in England; though,
tigluing in domestic society: active and me- from the nature of their government, it must
thodical in their business, and narrow-minded be known to most of their leading members.
and ill-informed as to most other particulars: It is the general opinion, it seems, that they
beneficent from habit and the discipline of the are gradually diminishing.
Memoirs of the Private and Public Life of William Penn. By THOMAS CLARKSON, M. A.
8vo. 2 vols. pp. 1020. London: 1813.
IT is impossible to look into any of Mr. whatsoever. Unfortunately for Mr. Clarkson,
Clarkson's books, without feeling that he is an moral qualities alone will not make a good
excellent man-and a very bad writer. Many writer; nor are they even of the first importof the defects of his composition, indeed, seem  ante on such an occasion: And accordingly,
to be directly referrible to the amiableness of with all his philanthropy, piety, and inflexible
his disposition. An earnestness for truth and honesty, he has not escaped the sin of tediousvirtue, that does not allow him to waste any ness, —and that to a degree that must render
thought upon the ornaments by which they him almost illegible to any but Quakers, Remay be recommended-and a simplicity of viewers, and others, who make public profescharacter which is not aware that what is sion of patience insurmountable. He has no
substantially respectable may be made dull taste, and no spark ofvivacity-not the vestige
or ridiculous by the manner in which it is of an ear for harmony-and a prolixity of
presented-are virtues which we suspect not which modern times have scarcely preserved
to have been very favourable to his reputation any other example. He seems to have a suffias an author. Feeling in himself not only an ciently sound and clear judgment, but no great
entire toleration of honest tediousness, but a acuteness of understanding; and, though visidecided preference for it upon all occasions bly tasking himself to judge charitably and
over mere elegance or ingenuity, he seems to speak candidly of all men, is evidently beset
have transferred a little too hastily to books with such antipathy to all who persecute
those principles of judgment which are admi- Quakers, or maltreat negroes, as to make him
rable when applied to men; and to have for- very unwilling to report any thing in their fagotten, that though dulness may be a very vour. On the other hand, he has great invenia, fault in a good man, it is such a fault dustry-scrupulous veracity —and that serious
in a book as to render its goodness of no avail and sober enthusiasm for his subject, which




652                            MISCELLANEOUS.
is sure in the long run to disarm ridicule, and    This course of discipline, however, not
win upon inattention-and is frequently able provilng immediately effectual, he was sent
to render vulgarity impressive, and simplicity upon his travels, along with some other young
sublime. Moreover, and above all, he is per- gentlemen, and resided for two years in France,
fectly free from affectation; so that, though and the Low Countries; but without any
we may be wearied, we are never disturbed change either in those serious views of relior offended-and read on, in tranquillity, till gion, or those austere notions of morality, by
we find it impossible to read any more.  which his youth had been so prematurely disIt willbe guessed, however, that it is not on tinguished. On his return, his father again
account of its literary merits that we are in- endeavoured to subdue him to a more worldly
duced to take notice of the work before us. frame of mind; first, by setting him to study
WILLIAM PENN, to whose honour it is wholly law at Lincoln's Inn; and afterwards, by senddevoted, was, beyond all doubt, a personage ing him to the Duke of Ormond's court at
of no ordinary standard-and ought, before this Dublin, and giving kim the charge of his large
time, to have met with a biographer capable possessions in that kingdom. These expediof doing him justice. He is most known, and ents might perhaps have been attended with
most deserving of being known, as the settler success, had he not accidentally again fallen
of Pennsylvania; but his private character in (at Cork) with his old friend Thomas Loe,
also is interesting, and full of those peculiari- the Quaker,-who set before him such a view
ties which distinguished the temper and man- of the dangers of his situation, that he seems
ners of a great part of the English nation at from that day forward to have renounced all
the period in which he lived. His theological secular occupations, and betaken himself to
and polemical exploits are no less character- devotion, as the main business of his life.
istic of the man and of the times; —though   The reign of Charles II., however, was not
all that is really'edifying in this part of his auspicious to dissenters; and in those evil
history might have been given in about one- days of persecution, he was speedily put in
twentieth part of the space which is allotted prison for attending Quaker meetings; but
to it in the volumes of Mr. Clarkson.    was soon liberated, and again came back to
William Penn was born in 1644, the only his father's house, where a long disputation
son of Admiral Sir W. Penn, the representa- took place upon the subject of his new creed.
tive of an ancient and honourable family in It broke up with this moderate and very loyal
Buckingham.and Gloucestershire.' He was proposition on the part of the Vice-Admiralregularly educated; and entered a Gentle- that the young Quaker should consent to sit
man Commoner at Christ's Church, Oxford, with his hat off, in presence of the King-the
where he distinguished himself very early for Duke of York —and the Admiral himself! in
his proficiency both in classical learning and return for which slight compliance, it was
athletic exercises. When he was only about stipulated that he should be no longer molestsixteen, however, he was roused to a sense of ed for any of his opinions or practices. The
the corruptions of the established faith, by the heroic convert, however, would listen to no
preaching of one Thomas Loe, a Quaker-and terms of composition; and, after taking some
immediately discontinued his attendance at days to consider of it, reported, that his conchapel; and, with some other youths of his science could not comport with any species
own way of thinking, began to hold prayer of Hat worship-and was again turned out of
meetings in their private apartments. This, doors for his pains.
of course, gave great scandal and offence'to   He now took openly to preaching in the
his academical superiors; and a large fine, Quaker meetings; and shortly after began that
with suitable admonitions, were imposed on course of theological and controversial pubthe young nonconformist. Just at this critical lications, in which he persisted to his dying
period, an order was unluckily received from  days.; and which has had the effect of overCourt to resume the useof the surplice, which whelming his memory with two vast folio
it seems had been discontinued almost ever volumes of Puritanical pamphlets. His most
since the period of the Reformation; and the considerable work seems to have been that
sight of this unfortunate vestment, "opera- entitled, "No Cross, no Crown;" in which he
ted,  as Mr. Clarkson expresses it, "so dis- not only explains and vindicates, at great
agreeably on William Penn, that he could not length, the grounds of the peculiar doctrines
bear it! and. joining himself with some other and observances of the Society to which he
young gentlemen, he fell upon those students belonged,-but endeavours to show, by a very
who appeared in surplices, and tore them  large and entertaining induction of instances
every where over their heads."  This, we from profane history, that the same general
conceive, was not quite correct, even as a principles had been adopted and acted upon
Quaker proceeding; and was but an unpro- by the wise and good in every generation; and
mising beginning for the future champion of were suggested indeed to the reflecting mind
religious liberty.  Its natural consequence, b-*the inward voice of conscience. and the
however, was, that he and his associates were, analogy of the whole visible scheme of God's
without further ceremony, expelled from the providence in the government of the world.
University; and when he went home to his The intermixture of worldly learning, and the
father, and attempted to justify by argument larger and bolder scope of this performance,
the measures he had adopted, it was no less na- render it far more legible than the pious extural that the good Admiral should give him a hortations and pertinacious polemics which
good box on the ear, and turn him to the door. fill the greater part of his subsequent publica.




CLARKSON'S LIFE OF PENN.                            653
tions. In his love of controversy and of print- Mayor and Recorder for preaching in a Qualng, indeed, this worthy sectary seems to have ker meeting. He afterwards published an acbeen the very PRIESTLEY of the 17th century. count of this proceeding; —and it is in our
He not only responded in due form to every opinion one of the most curious and instrucwork in which the principles of his sect were tive pieces that ever came from his pen. The
directly or indirectly attacked,-but whenever times to which it relates, are sufficiently
he heard a sermon that he did not like,-  known to have been times of gross oppression
or learned that any of the Friends had been and judicial abuse — but the brutality of the
put in the stocks;-whenever he was pre- Court upon this occasion seems to us to exvented from preaching,-or learned any edi- ceed any thing that is recorded elsewhere;fying particulars of the death of a Quaker, or and the noble firmness of the jury still deof a persecutor of Quakers, he was instantly serves to be remembered, for example to hapat the press, with a letter, or a narrative, or pier days. The prisoner came into court, acan admonition-and never desisted from the cording to Quaker costume. with his hat on
contest till he had reduced the adversary to his head;-but the doorkeeper, with a due
silence.                                 zeal for the dignity of the place, pulled it off
The members of the established Church, as he entered.-Upon this, however, the Lord
indeed, were irarely so unwary as to make any Mayor became quite furious, and ordered the
rejoinder; and most of his disputes, accord- unfortunate beaver to be instantly replacedingly, were with rival sectaries; in whom the which was no sooner done than he fined the
spirit of proselytism and jealous zeal is always poor culprit for appearing covered in his prestronger than in the members of a larger and sence! — William  Penn now insisted upon
more powerful body. They were not always knowing what law he was accused of having
contented indeed with the regular and general broken, —to which simple question the Rewar of the press, but frequently challenged corder was reduced to answer, " that he was
each other to personal combat, in the form of an impertinent fellow, —and that many had
solemn and public disputations. William Penn studied thirty or forty years to understand the
had the honour of being repeatedly appointed law, which he was for having expounded in a
the champion of the Quakers in these theo- moment!" The learned controversialist howlogical duels; and never failed, according to ever was not to be silenced so easily; —he
his partial biographer, completely to demolish quoted Lord Coke and Magna Charta on his
his opponent;-though it appears that he did antagonist in a moment: and chastised his innot always meet with perfectly fair play, and solence by one of the best and most characthat the chivalrous law of arms was by no teristic repartees that we recollect ever to have
means correctly observed in these ghostly en- met with. "I tell you to be silent," cried the
counters. His first set to, was with one Vincent, Recorder, in a great passion; C if we should
the oracle of a neighbouring congregation of suffer you to ask questions till to-morrow
Presbyterians; and affords rather a ludicrous morning, you will be never the wiser! —
example of the futility and indecorum which "That," replied the Quaker, with his immovare apt to characterise all such exhibitions.-  able tranquillity. "that is, according as the
After the debate had gone on for some time, answers are.2 — Take him away, take him
Vincent made a long discourse, in which he away?7 exclaimed the Mayor and the Roopenly accused the Quakers of blasphemy; corder in a breath-" turn him into the Bale
and as soon as he had done, he made off, and Dock;"-and into the Bale Dock, a filthy and
desired all his friends to follow him. Penn pestilent dungeon in the neighbourhood, he
insisted upon being heard in reply: but the was accordingly turned-discoursing calmly
Presbyterian troops pulled him down by the all the way on Magna Charter and the rights
skirts; and proceeding to blow out the can- of Englishmen; —while the courtly Recorder
dies, (for the battle had already lasted till delivered a very animated charge to the Jury,
midnight,) left the indignant orator in utter in the absence of the prisoner.
darkness! He was not to be baffled or ap-   The Jury, however, after a short consultapalled, however, by a privation of this de- tion, brought in a verdict, finding him merely
scription; and accordingly went on to argue "guilty of speaking in Grace-Church Street."
and retort in the dark, with such force and For this cautious and most correct deliverance,
effect that it was thought advisable to send they were loaded with reproaches by the
out for his fugitive opponent, who, after some Court, and sent out to amend their verdict,time, reappeared with a candle in his hand, but in half an hour they returned with the
and begged that the debate might be adjourn- same ingenious finding, written out at large,
ed to another day. But he could never be and subscribed with all their names. The
prevailed on, Mr. Clarkson assures us, to re- Court now became more furious than ever, and
new the combat; and Penn, after going and shut them up without meat, drink, or fire, till
defying him in his own meeting-house, had next morning; when they twice over came
recourse, as usual, to the press; and put forth back with the same verdict; —upon which they
The Sandy Foundation Shaken," for which were reviled, and threatened so outrageously
he had the pleasure of being committed to by the Recorder, that William Penn protest
the Tower, on the instigation of the Bishop ed against this plain intimidation of the perof London; and solaced himself, during his sons, to whose free suffrages the law had enconfinement, by writing six other pamphlets. trusted his cause. The answer of the Recorder
Soon after his deliverance, he was again was, "Stop his mouth, jailor-bring fetters
iaken up, and brought to trial before the Lord and stake him to the ground." William Penn




654                             MISCELLANEOUS.
replied with the temper of a Quaker, and the in Newgate; where he amused hlimself, ax
spirit of a martyr, " Do your pleasure-I mat- usual, by writing and publishing four painter not your fetters!U' And the Recorder took phlets in support of his opinions.
occasion to observe, " that, till now, he had   It is by no means our intention, however,
never understood the policy of the Spaniards to digest a chronicle either of his persecutions
in suffering the Inquisition among them. But or his publications. In the earlier part of his
now he saw that it would never be well with career, he seems to have been in prison every
us, till we had something like the Spanish In- six months; and, for a very considerable pequisition in England!"  After this sage re- riod of it, certainly favoured the world with
mark, the Jury were again sent back,-and at least six new pamphlets every year. In all
kept other twenty-four hours, without food or these, as well as in his public appearances,
refreshment. On the third day, the natural there is a singular mixture of earnestness and
and glorious effect of this brutality on the sobriety-a devotedness to the cause in which
spirits of Englishmen was at length produced. he was engaged, that is almost sublime; and
Instead of the special and unmeaning form of a temperance and patience towards his oppotheir first verdict, they now, all in one voice, nents, that is truly admirable: while in the
declared the prisoner NOT GUILTY. The Re- whole of his private life, there is redundant
corder again broke out into abuse and menace; testimony, even from the mouths of his eneand, after "praying God to keep his life out mies, that his conduct was pure and philanof such hands," proceeded, we really do not thropic in an extraordinary degree, and distinsee on what pretext, to fine every man of them  guished at the some time for singular pruin forty marks, and to order them to prison till dence and judgment in all ordinary affairs.
payment. William Penn then demanded his His virtues and his sufferings appear at last to
liberty; but was ordered into custody till he have overcome his father's objections to his
paid the fine imposed on him for wearing his peculiar tenets, and a thorough and cordial
hat; and was forthwith dragged away to his reconciliation took place previous to their final
old lodging in the Bale Dock, while in the separation. On his death-bed, indeed, the advery act of quoting the twenty-ninth chapter miral is said to have approved warmly of
the Great Charter, " Nullus liber homo," &c. every part of his son's conduct; and to have
As he positively refused to acknowledge the predicted, that " if he and his friends kept to
legality of this infliction by paying the fine, their plain way of preaching and of living,
he might have lain long enough in this dun- they would speedily make an end of the
geon; but his father, who was now reconciled priests, to the end of the world. —-By his
to him, sent the money privately; and he was father's death he succeeded to a handsome esat last set at liberty.                   tate, then yielding upwards of 15001. a year;
The spirit, however, which had dictated but made no change either in his professions
these proceedings was not likely to cease from  or way of life. He was at the press and in
troubling; and, within less than a year, the Newgate, after this event, exactly as before:
poor Quaker was again brought before the and defied and reviled the luxury of the age,
Magistrate on an accusation of illegal preach- just as vehemently, when he was in a condiing; and was again about to be dismissed for tion to partake of it, as in the days of his powant of evidence, when the worthy Justice verty. Within a short time after his succesingeniously bethought himself of tendering to sion, he made a pilgrimage to Holland and
the prisoner the oath of allegiance, which, as Germany in company with George Fox; where
well as every other oath. he;well knew that it is said that they converted many of all
his principles would oblige him to refuse. In- ranks, including young ladies of quality and
stead of the oath, W. Penn, accordingly offer- old professors of divinity.  They were ill
ed to give his reasons for not swearing; but used, however, by a surly Graf or two, who
the Magistrate refused to hear him: and an sent them out of their dominions under a coraltercation ensued, in the course of which the poralls guard; an attention which they repaid,
Justice having insinuated, that, in spite of his by long letters of expostulation and advice)
sanctified exterior, the young preacher was as which the worthy Grafs were probably neither
bad as other folks in his practice, the Quaker very able nor very willing to read.
forgot, for one moment, the systematic meek-   In the midst of these labours and trials, he
ness and composure of his sect, and burst out found time to marry a lady of great beauty
into this triumphant appeal-              and accomplishments; and settled himself is
a comfortable and orderly house in the coun
"I make this bold challenge to all men, women, try —but at the same timer remitted nothinu
and children upon earth, justly to accuse me with try-but, at the same time, remitted nothing
having seen me drunk, heard me swear, utter a of his zeal and activity in support of the caum
curse, or speak one obscene word, much less that I in which he had embarked. When the penal
ever made it my practice. I speak this to God's statutes against Popish recusants were about
glory, who has ever preserved me from the power to be passed, in 1678, by the tenor of which
of these pollutions, and who from a child begot an certain grievous punishments were inflicted
hatred in me towards them. Thy words shall be upon all who did not frequent the established
thy burthen, and I trample thy slander as dirt un-upon a     frequent the established
der my feet!"-pp. 99, 100.               church, or purge themselves upon oath, front
Popery, William Penn was allowed to be heard
The greater part of the audience confirmed before a Committee of the House of Commons,
this statement; and the judicial calumniator in support of the Quakers' application fox
had nothing for it, but to sentence this unrea- some exemption from the unintended severity
sonabie Puritan to six months' imprisonment of these edicts;-and what has been preserved




CLARKSON'S LIFE OF PENN.                                  65b
o. his speech, upon that occasion) certainly is of the great province in question, was irnme.
not the least respectable of his performances. diately struck with the opportunity it afforded,
It required no ordinary magnanimity for any both for a beneficent arrangement of the inte.
one, in the very height of the frenzy of the rests of its inhabitants, and for providing a
Popish plot, boldly to tell the House of Com- pleasant and desirable retreat for such of hi.
mons, "that it was unlawful to inflict punish- own communion as might be willing to leave
ment upon Catholics themselves, on account their native land in pursuit of religious liberty.
of a conscientious dissent."  This, however, The original charter had vested the proprietor,
William Penn did, with the firmness of a true under certain limitations, with the power of
philosopher; but, at the same time, with so legislation; and one of the first works of Wilmuch of the meekness and humility of a liam Penn was to draw up a sort of constituQuaker, that he was heard without offence or tion for the land vested in Billynge —the carinterruption: —and having thus put in his pro- dinal foundation of which was, that no man
test against the general principle of intoler- should be troubled, molested, or subjected to
ance, he proceeded to plead his own cause, any disability, on account of his religion. He
and that of his brethren, with admirable force then superintended the embarkation of two or
and temper as follows:                        three ship-loads of Quakers, who set off for
"I was bred at Protestant, and that strictly too. this land of promise;-and continued, from
I lost nothing by time or study. For years, read. time to time, both to hear so much of their
ing, travel, and observation, made the religion of prosperity, and to feel how much a larger promy education the religion of my judgment. My prietor might have it in his power to promote
alteration hath brought none to that belief;  and extend it, that he at length conceived the
though the posture I am in may seem odd or strange idea of acquiring to himself a much larger
to you, yet I am conscientious; and, till you know  district and founding  a settle
me better, I hope your charity will call it rather my district, and founding a settlement upon a still
unhappiness than my crime. I do tell you again, more liberal and comprehensive plan.  The
and here solemnly declare, in the presence of the means of doing this were providentially placed
Almighty God, and before you all, that the profes- in his hands, by the circumstance of his father
sion I now make, and the Society I now adhere to, having a claim upon the dissolute and needy
have been so far from altering that Protestant juda-  government of the day, for no less than
ment I had, that I am not conscious to myself of government  of the day, for no less than
having receded from an iota of any one principle  16,0001, —in lieu of which W. Penn proposed
maintained by those first Protestants and Refbrmers that the district, since called Pennsylvania,
of Germany, and our own martyrs at home, against should be made over to him, with such ample
the see of' Rome: And therefore it is, we think it  s of administration as made him little
hard, that though we deny in common with you te                                       I
those doctrines of Rome so zealously protested    than absolute sovereign of the country.
against, (from whence the name of Protestants,) The right of legislation was left entirely to
yet that we should be so unhappy as to suffer, and him, and such councils as he might appoint;
that with extreme severity, by laws made only with no other limitation, than that his laws
against the maintainers of those doctrines which we should be liable to be rescinded by the Privy
do so deny.  We choose no suffering; for God Council of England, within six months after
knows what we have already suffered, and how  th
many sufficient and trading families are reduced to   ey were reported to  it.  This memorable
great poverty by it. We think ourselves an useful charter was signed on the 4th of March, 1681.
people. We are sure we are a peaceable people; He originally intended, that the country should
yet, if we must still suffer, let us not suffer as have been called New Wales; but the UnderPopish Recusants, but as Protestant Dissenters." Secretary of State, being a Welshman, thought,
PP. 220, 221.  it seems, that this was using too much liberty
About the same period we find him closely with the ancient principality, and objected to
leagued with no less a person than Algernon it!  He then suggested Sylvania; but the
Sydney, and busily employed in canvassing king himself insisted upon adding Penn to it,
for him  in the burgh of Guildford.  But the -and after some struggles of modesty, it was
most important of his occupations at this time  found necessary to submit to his gracious
were those which connected him with that desires.
region which was destined to be the scene    He now proceeded to encourage settlers of
of his greatest and most memorable exertions. all sorts,-but especially such sectaries as
An accidental circumstance had a few years were impatient of the restraints and persecubefore engaged him  in some inquiries with  tions to which they were subjected in Engregard to the state of that district in North land; and published certain conditions and
America, since called New Jersey, and Penn- regulations, " the first fundamental of which,"
sylvania.  A great part of this territory had as he expresses it, was,'That every person
been granted by the Crown to the family of should enjoy the free profession of his faith,
Lord Berkeley, who had recently sold a large and exercise of worship towards God, in such
part of it to a Quaker of the name of Billynge; a way as he shall in his conscience believe is
and this person having fallen into pecuniary most acceptable; and should be protected in
embarrassments, prevailed upon William Penn  this liberty by the authority of the civil magisto accept of a conveyance of this property, trate."  With regard to the native inhabitants,
and to undertake the management of it, as he positively enacted, that "whoever should
trustee for his creditors.  The conscientious hurt, wrong, or offend any Indian, should intrustee applied himself to the discharge of this cur the same penalty as if he had offended in
duty with his habitual scrupulousness and ac- like manner against his fellow planter;" and
tivity;-and having speedily made himself that the planters should not be their own
acquaitaed with the condition and capabilities judges in case of any difference with the Itr




656                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
dians, but that all such differences should be  endearedly visits you with eternal embraces, and
settled by twelve referees, six Indians and six  will abide with you for ever: and may the God of
planters; under the direction, if need were, my life watch over you, and bless you, and do you
of the Gove of the province and the Chiefgood in this world and for ever!-Some things are
of the Governor of the province, and the Chief  upon my spirit to leave with you in your respective
or King of the Indians concerned.  Under capacities, as I am to one a husband, and t the
these wise and merciful regulations, three  rest a father, if I should never see you more in this
ships full of passengers sailed for the new  world.
province in the end of 1681.  In one of these    "My dear wife! remember thou wtst the love
wras Colonel Markham, a relation of Penn;s, of my youth, and much the Joy of my lie; the
a s   Colonel   Mmost beloved, as well as most worthy of all my
and intended to act as his secretary when he  earthly comforts: and the reason of that love was
should himself arrive.  He was the chief of  more thy inward than thy outward excellencies,
several commissioners, who were appointed to  which yet were many.  God knows, and thou
confer with the Indians with regard to the ces- knowest it, I can say it was a match of Providence's
sion or purchase of their lands, and the terms making; and God's image in us both was the first
of a perpetual peace,-and was the bearer of thing, and the most amiable and engaging ornaof     arueansherment in our eyes. Now I am to leave thee, and
the following letter to them from the Governor, that without knowing whether I shall ever see thee
a part of which we think worthy of being  more in this world, take my counsel into thy bosom,
transcribed, for the singular plainness, and  and let it dwell with thee in my stead while thou
engaging honesty, of its manner.               livest."
"Now, I would have you well observe, that I   Then, after some counsel about godliness
am very sensible of the unkindness and injustice and economy, he proceedswhich have been too much exercised toward you
by the people of these parts of the world, who have   "And now, my dearest, let me recommend to
sought themselves to make great advantages by you, thy care my dear children; abundantly beloved of
rather than to be examples of goodness and patience me, as the Lord's blessings, and the sweet pledges
unto you. This I hear hath been a matter of trouble of our mutual and endeared affection. Above all
to you, and caused great grudging and animosities, things endeavour to breed them up in the love of
sometimes to the shedding of blood. But I am not virtue, and that holy plain way of it which we have
such a man; as is well known in my own country. lived in, that the world in no part of it get into
I have great love and regard toward you, and desire  my family. I had rather they were homely than
to win and gain your love and friendship by a kind, finely bred as to outward behaviour; yet I love
just, and peaceable life; and the people I send are sweetness mixed with gravity, and cheerfulness
of the same mind, and shall in all things behave tempered with sobriety. Religion in the heart leads
themselves accordingly; and if in any thing any into this true civility, teaching men and wonien to
shall offend you or your people, you shall have be mild and courteous in their behaviour; an aca full and speedy satisfaction tbr the same, by an complishment worthy indeed of praise.
equal number of just men on both sides, that by no    " Next breed them up in a love one of another:
means you may have just occasion of being offended tell them it is the charge I left behind me; and
against them.                                  that it is the way to have the love and blessing of
"I shall shortly come to see you myself, at God upon them. Somstlmes separate them, but
which time we may more largely and freely confer not long; and allow them to send and give each
and discourse of these matters. In the mean time other small things, to endear one another with.
I have sent my Commissioners to treat with you, Once more I say, tell them it was my counsel they
about land, and a firm league of' peace. Let me should be tender and affectionate one to another.
desire you to be kind to them and to the people, For. their learning be liberal. Spare no cost; for
and receive the presents and tokens, which I have  by such parsimony all is lost that is saved: but let
sent you, as a testimony of my good will to you, it be useful knowledge, such as is consistent with
and of my resolution to live justly, peaceably, and  truth and godliness, not cherishing a vain conversafriendly with you.  I am, your loving Friend,  tion or idle mind; but ingenuity mixed with indus"WILLIAM PENN."  try is good for the body and the mind too. Rather
In the course of the succeedingr year, he  keep an ingenious person in the house to teach
them, than send them to schools; too many evil
prepared to follow  these colonists; and ac- impressions being commonly received there. Be
cordingly embarked, with about an hundred  sure to observe their genius, and do not cross it as
other Quakers, in the month of September, to learning; let them  not dwell too long on one
1682. Before separating himself, however  thing; but let their change be agreeable, and all
from  his family on this long pilgrimage, he  their diversions have some little bodily labour in
addressed a long letter of love and a~dmoni- them. When grown big, have most care for them;
tiontod his*wifoe and childrefrom w   we,., for then there are more snares, both within and
tion to his wife and children, from which we  without. When marriageable, see that they have
are tempted to make a pretty large extract worthy persons in their eye, of good life, and good
for the entertainment and edification of our fame for piety and understanding.  I desire no
readers.  There is something, we think, very  wealth. but sufficiency; and be sure their love be
touching and venerable in the affectionateness dear, fervent, and mutual, that it may be happy for
of its whole stvenerainble a nd the pa triarchal  sim- them.  I choose not they should be married to
of its whole strain, and the patriarchal sim- earthly, covetous kindred: and of cities and towns
plicity in which it is conceived; while the  of concourse, beware: the world is apt to stick
language appears to us to be one of the most close to those who have lived and got wealth there:
beautiful specimens of that soft and mellow  a country life and estate I like best for my children.
English, which, with all its redundancy and  I prefer a decent mansion of a hundred pounds per
cumbrous volume, has, to our ears a far richer annum, before ten thousand pounds in London, or
cumrou olrn  assuch like place, in a way of trade."
and more pathetic sweetness than the epigrams
and apothegms of modern times.'The letter    He next addresses himself to his children.
begins in this manner —                           "Be obedient to your dear mother, a woman
" My dear Wife and Children,               whose virtue and good name is an honour to you;
"My love, which neither sea, nor land, nor death  for she hath been exceeded by none in her time for
itself, can extinguish or lessen toward you, most her integrity, humanity, virtue, and good under



CLARKSON'S LIFE OF PENN.                                  667
standing; qualities not usual among women of her tion, and solemnly to pledge his faith, and
worldly condition and quality. Therefore honour to ratify and confirm  the treaty, in sight both
and obey her, my dear children, as your mother, of the Indians and Planters. For this purand your father's love and delight; nay, love her  o  e   ans an d Planters.  For this put -
too, for she loved your father with a deep and pose a grand convocation of the tribes had
upright love, choosing him before all her many been appointed near the spot where Philadelsuitors: and though she be of a delicate constitu- phia now stands; and it was agreed that he
tion and noble spirit, yet she descended to the ut- and the presiding Sachems should meet and
most tenderness and care for you, performing the exchange faith, under the spreading branches
painfullest acts of service to you in your infancy, of a prodigious elm-tree that grew on the bank
as a mother and a nurse too. I charge you, before
the Lord, honour and obey, love and cherish your of the river. On the day appointed, accorddear mother."                                 ingly, an innumerable multitude of the Indians assembled in that neighbourhood; and
After a great number of other affect:onate: were seen, with their dark visages and brand
counsels, he turns particularly to his elder ished arms, moving in vast swarms, in the
boys.                                        depth of the woods which then overshadowed
"And as for you, who are likely to be concerned the whole of that now cultivated region.  On
in the government of Pennsylvania, I do charge the other hand, William Penn, with a modeyou before the Lard God and his holy angels, that rate attendance of Friends, advanced to meet
you be lowly, diligent, and tender; fearing God, them.  He came of course unarmed-in his
loving the people, and hating covetousness. Let
justice have its impartial course, and the law free usual plain dress-without banners, or mace,
passage. Though to your loss; protect no man or guards, or carriages; and only distinguished
against it; for you are not above the law, but the from his companions by wearing a blue sash
law above you. Live therefore the lives yourselves of silk network (which it seems is still preyou would have the people live, and then shall you served by Mr. Kett of Seething-hall, near
have right and boldness to punish the transgressor. Norwich), and by having in his hand a roll
Keep upon the square, for God sees you: therefore
do your duty, and be sure you see with your own of parchment, on which was engrossed the
eyes, and hear with your own ears. Entertain no confirmation of the treaty of purchase and
lurchers; cherish no informers for gain or revenge; amity.  As soon as he drew near the spot
use no tricks; fly to no devices to support or cover where the Sachems were assembled, the
Lordustce; but  let your hearts thbe upright before the whole multitude of Indians threw down their
Lord, trusting in him above the contrivances of men,
and none shall be able to hurt or supplant you."    weapons and seated themselves on the ground
in groups, each under his own chieftain; and
We should like to see any private letter of the presiding chief intimated to William Penn,
instructions from a sovereign to his heir-appa- that the nations were ready to hear him. Mr.
rent, that will bear a comparison with the Clarkson regrets, and we cordially join in the
injunctions of this honest Sectary.  He con- sentiment, that there is no written, contentpocludes as follows:-                          rary account of the particulars attending this
" Finally, my children, love one another with a interesting and truly novel transaction. He
true endeared love, and your dear relations on both assures us, however, that they are still in a
sides, and take care to preserve tender affection in great measure preserved in oral tradition, and
your children to each other, often marrying within that both what we have just stated, and what
themselves, so as it be without the bounds forbidden follows, may be relied on as perfectly accuin God's law, that so they may not, like the forget- rate. The sequel we give in his own words.
ting unnatural world, grow out of kindred, and as
cold as strangers; but, as becomes a truly natural   " Having been thus called upon, he began. The
and Christian stock, you and yours after you, may  Great Spirit, he said, who made him and them, who
live in the pure and fervent love of God towards ruled the Heaven and the Earth, and who knew'
one another, as becoming brethren in the spiritual the innermost thoughts of man, knew that he and
and natural relation.                         his friends had a hearty desire to live in peace and
" So farewell to my thrice dearly beloved wife friendship with them, and to serve them  to the
and children!                                utmost of their power. It was not their custom to
"Yours, as God pleaseth, in that which no use hostile weapons against their fellow-creatures,
waters can quench, no time forget, nor distance for which reason they had come unarmed. Their
wear away, but remains for ever,          object was not to do injury, and thus provoke the
" WILLIAM PENN."    Great Spirit, but to do good. They were then met
" lVorminghurst, fourth of                    on the broad pathway of good faith and good will,
sixth month, 1682."                       so that no advantage was to be taken on either
Immediately after writing this letter, he side, but all was to be openness, brotherhood, and
love. After these and other words, he unrolled
embarked, and arrived safely in the Dela- th e  parchment, and by means of the same interware with all his companions.  The country  preter conveyed to them, article by article, the conassigned to him by the royal charter was yet ditions of the Purchase, and the Words of the Comfull of its original inhabitants; and the prin- pact then- made for their eternal Union. Among
ciples of William  Penn did not allow  him  other things, they were not to be molested in their
to look upon that gift as a warrant to dis- lawful pursuits, even in the territory they had alienated, for it was to be common to them and the
possess the first proprietors of the land. He English. They were to have the same liberty to
had accordingly appointed his commissioners, do all things therein relating to the improvement
the preceding year, to treat with them  for of their grounds, and providing sustenance for their
the fair purchase of a part of their lands, and  families, which the English had. If any disputes
for their joint possession of the remainder; should arise between the two, they should be setand the terms of the settlement being now  tled by twelve persons, half of whom should be
English, and half'Indians. He then paid them for
nearly agreed upon, he proceeded very soon  the land; and made them many presents besides,
after his arrival, to conclude the transac- from the merchandize which had been spread before
42




us                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
them. Having done this, he laid the roll of parch- added, for the encouragement of industry,
ment on the ground, observing again, that the and mutual usefulness and esteem.  There
ground should be common to both people. He is something very agreeable in the contentthen added, that he would not do as the Marylanders did, that is, call them  Children or Brothers ment; and  sober and well-earned self-corn
only; for often parents were apt to chastise their placency, which breathe in the following letchildren too severely, and Brothers sometimes ter of this great colonist-wriften durirg, his
would differ: neither would he compare the Friend- first rest from those great labours.
ship between him and them  to a Chain, for the
rain might sometimes rust it, or a tree might fall   " I am now  casting the  country into townships
and break it; but he should consider them as the for large lots of land. I have held an Assembly,
same flesh and blood with the Christians, and the in which many good laws are passed. We could
same as if one man's body were to be divided into not stay safely till the spring for a Government. I
two parts. He then took up the parchment, and have annexed the Territories lately obtained to the
presented it to the Sachem, who wore the horn in Province, and passed a general naturalization for
his chaplet, and desired him and the.other Sachems strangers; which hath much pleased the people.to preserve it carefully for three generations; that As to outward things, we are satisfied; the land
their children might know what had passed between good, the air clear and sweet, the springs plentiful,
them, just as if he had remained himself with them  and provision good and easy to come at; an innuto repet it." —pp. 341-343. -                merable quantity of wild fowl and fish: in fine,
here is what an Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob would
The Indians, in return, made long and  be well contented with; and service enough for
stately harangues-of which  however, no God, for the fields are here white for harvest. 0,
er,   how sweet is the quiet of these parts, freed from
more seems to have been remembered  but the anxious and troublesome solicitations, hurries,
that " they pledged themselves to live in love and perplexities of woful Europe!"-pp. 350, 351.
with William  Penn and his children, as long
as the sun and moon should endure."  And    We cannot persuade ourselves, however,
thus ended this famous treaty; —of which  to pursue any farther the details of this edifyVoltaire has remarked, with so much truth ing biography. W. Penn returned to England
and severity, " that it was the only one ever after a residence of about two years in his
concluded between savages and Christians colony-got into great favour with James II.
that was not ratified by an oath-and the only -and was bitterly calumniated as a Jesuit)
one that never was broken i"                 both by churchmen and sectaries-went on
Such, indeed, was the spirit in which the doing good and preaching Quakerism —was
negotiation was entered into, and the corres- sorely persecuted and insulted, and deprived
ponding settlement conducted, that for the of his Government, but finally acquitted, and
space of more than seventy years-and so honourably restored, under King Williamlong indeed as the Quakers retained the chief lost his wife and son-travelled and married
power in the government, the peace and amity again —returned to Pennsylvania in 1699 for
which had been thus solemnly promised and  two years longer-came finally home to Engconcluded, never was violated;-and a large land-continued  to preach and publish as
and most striking, though solitary example copiously as ever —was reduced to a state of
afforded, of the facility with which they who kindly dotage by three strokes of apoplexyare really sincere and friendly in their own and died at last at the age of seventy-two, in
views, may live in harmony even with those the year 1718.
who are supposed to be peculiarly fierce and He seems to have been a man of kind affecfaithless.  We cannot bring ourselves to wish tions, singular activity and perseverance, and
that there were nothing but Quakers in the great practical wisdom.  Yet we can well
world-because we fear it would be insup- believe with Burnet, that he was "a little
portably dull; —but when we consider what puffed up with vanity;" and that "he had a
tremendous evils daily arise from  the petu- tedious, luscious way of talking, that was apt
lance and profligacy, and ambition and irri- to tire the patience of his hearers." He was
tability, of Sovereigns and Ministers, we can- very neat in his person; and had a great hornot help thinking that it would be the most ror at tobacco, which occasionally endangered
efficacious of all reforms to choose all those his popularity in his American domains. He
ruling personages out of that plain, pacific, was mighty methodical, too, in ordering his
and sober-minded sect.                        household; and had stuck up in his hall a
William  Penn now held an assembly, in written directory, or General Order, for the
which fifty-nine important laws were passed  regulation of his family, to which he exacted
in the course of three days. The most re- the strictest conformity. According to this
markable were those which limited the num- rigorous system of discipline, he requiredber of capital crimes to two-murder and    "That in that quarter of the year which included
high treason-and which provided' for the part of the winter and part of the spring, the memreformation, as well as the punishment of bers of it were to rise at seven in the morning, in
offenders, by making the prisons places of the next at six, in the next at five, and in the last
compulsive industry, sobriety, and instruc- at six again. Nine o'clock was the hour for breakfast, twelve for dinner, seven for supper, and ten
tion. It was likewise enacted, that all chil- to retire to bed. The whole family were to assemdren, of whatever rank, should be instructed  ble every morning for worship. They were to be
in some art or trade. The fees of law pro- called together at eleven again, that each might
ceedings were fixed, and inscribed on public read in turn some portion of the holy Scripture, or
tables;-and the amount of fines to be levied of the Martyrology, or of Friends' books; and
for offencess also limited by legislative au- finally they were to meet again for worship at six
or offences also limit ed by legislative au- in the evening. On the days of public meeting, no
thority   Many admirable regulations were one was to be absent, except on the plea of health




ADMIRAL LORD Cu,LiNGWOOD.                              65%
or of unavoidable engagement. The servants were the pious and philanthropic principles that
to be called up after supper to render to their mas- were undoubtedly his chief guides in forming
tel and mistress an account of what they had done that great settlement which still bears his
in the day, and to receive instructions for the next;
and were particularly exhorted to avoid lewd dis- name and profits by his example. Human
courses and troublesome noises."          virtue does not challenge, nor admit of such
a scrutiny! And it should be sufficient for
We shall not stop to examine what dregs the glory of William Penn, that he stands
of ambition, or what hankerings after worldly upon record as the most humane, the most
prosperity, may have mixed themselves with moderate, and the most pacific of all rulers.
(Ian,  1828.)
A Selection from the Public and Private Correspondence of Vice-Admiral Lord Collingwood:
interspersed with Memoirs of his Life. By G. L. NEWNHAM COLLINGWOOD, Esq. F. R. S.
2 vols. 8vo. Ridgway. London: 1828.
WE do not know when we have met with of a still higher rectitude. Inferior, perhaps,
so delightful a book as. this,-or one with to Nelson, in original genius and energy, and
which we are so well pleased with ourselves in that noble self-confidence in great emerfor being delighted. Its attraction consists gencies which these qualities usually inspire,
almost entirely in its moral beauty; and it he was fully his equal in seamanship and the
has the rare merit of filling us with the deep- art of command; as well as in that devotedest admiration for heroism, without suborning ness to his country and his profession, and
our judgments into any approbation of the that utter fearlessness and gallantry of soul
vices and weaknesses with which poor mortal which exults and rejoices in scenes of treheroism is so often accompanied. In this re- mendous peril, which have almost ceased to
spect,'it is not only more safe, but more agree- be remarkable in the character of a British
able reading than the Memoirs of Nelson; sailor. On the other hand, we think it will
where the lights and shadows are often too scarcely be disputed, that he was superior to
painfully contrasted, and the bane and the that great commander in general information
antidote exhibited in proportions that cannot and accomplishment, and in those thoughtful
but be hazardous for the ardent and aspiring habits, and that steadiness and propriety of
spirits on which they are both most calculated  personal deportment, which are their natural
to operate.                               fruit. His greatest admirers, however, can
It is a mere illusion of national vanity  ask no higher praise for him than that he stood
which prompts us to claim Lord Collingwood on the same lofty level with Nelson, as to that
as a character peculiarly English? Certainly generous and cordial appreciation of merit in
we must admit, that we have few English- his brother officers, by which, even more, per.
men left who resemble him; and even that haps, than by any of his other qualities, that
our prevailing notions and habits make it great man was distinguished. It does one's
likely that we shall have still fewer hereafter. heart good, indeed, to turn from the petty
Yet we do not know where such a character cabals, the paltry jealousies, the splendid decould have been formed but in England;- tractions, the irritable vanities, which infest
and feel quite satisfied, that it is there only almost every other walk of public life, and
that it can be properly valued or understood. meet one, indeed, at every turn in all scenes
The combination of the loftiest daring with of competition, and among men otherwise
the most watchful humanity, and of the no- eminent and honourable, —to the brother-like
blest ambition with the greatest disdain of frankness and open-hearted simplicity, even
personal advantages, and the most generous of the official communications between Nelson
sympathy with rival merit, though rare enough and Collingwood; and to the father-like into draw forth at all times the loud applause terest with which they both concurred in fosof mankind, have not been without example, tering the glory, and cheering on the fortunes
in any race that boasts of illustrious ances- of their younger associates. In their noble
tors. But, for the union of those high quali- thirst for distinction, there seems to be absoties with unpretending and almost homely lutely no alloy of selfishness; and scarcely
simplicity, sweet temper, undeviating recti- even a feeling of rivalry. If the opportunity
tude, and all the purity and sanctity of do- of doing a splendid thing has not come to
mestic affection and humble content-we can them, it has come to some one who deserved
look, we think, only to England, —or to the it as well, and perhaps needed it more. It
fabulous legends of uncorrupted and unin- will come to them another day-and then the
structed Rome. All these graces, however, heroes of this will repay their hearty congraand more than these, were united in Lord tulations. There is something inexpressibly
Collingwood: For he had a cultivated and beautiful and attractive in this spirit of rmageven elegant mind, a taste for all simple en- nanimous fairness; and if we could only bejoyments, and a rectitude of understanding-  lieve it to be general in the navy, we shculd
which seemed in him to be but the emanation gladly recant all our heretical doubts as to tkh




660                              MISCELLANEOUS.
superior virtues of men at sea, join chorus to the poor child, spoke to him in terms of much
all the slang songs of Dibdin on the subject, encouragement and kindness; which, as Lort
and applaud to the echo all the tirades about Collingwood said, so won upon his heart, that,
British tars and wooden walls, which have so taking this officer to his box, he offered him
often nauseated us at the playhouses.       in gratitude a large piece of plumcake which
We feel excessively obliged to the editor his mother had given him!"  Almost from
of this book; both for making Lord Colling- this early period he was the intimate friend
wood known to us, and for the very pleasing, and frequent associate of the brave Nelson;
modest, and effectual way he has taken to do and had his full share of the obscure perils
it in. It is made up almost entirely of his and unknown labours which usually form the
Lordship's correspondence; and the few con- noviciate of naval eminence. He was made
necting statements and explanatory observa- commander in 1779; and being sent to the
tions are given with the greatest clearness and West Indies after the peace of 1783, was only
brevity; and very much in the mild, concili- restored to his family in 1786. He married
atory, and amiable tone of the remarkable in 1791; and was again summoned upon
person to whom they relate. Then we say active service on the breaking out of the war
that this publication has made Lord Colling- with France in 1793; from which period to
wood known to us, we do not mean that we. the end of his life, in 1810, he was continually
or the body of the nation, were previously in employment, and never permitted to see
ignorant that he had long served with distinc- that happy home, so dear to his heart, and so
tion in the navy, and that it fell to his lot. as constantly in his thoughts, except for one short
second in command at Trafalgar, to indite that interval of a year, during the peace of Amiens.
eloquent and touching despatch which an- During almost the whole of this period he
nounced the final ruin of the hostile fleets, was actually afloat; and was frequently, for
and the death of the Great Admiral by whose a year together, and once for the incredible
might they had been scattered.  But till this period of twenty-two months, without dropcollection appeared, the character of the man ping an anchor. He was in almost all the
was known, we believe, only to those who great actions, and had more that his share of
had lived with him; and the public was gene- the anxious blockades, which occurred in that
rally ignorant both of the detail of his ser- memorable time; and signalised himself in
vices, and the high principle and exemplary all, by that mixture of considerate vigilance
diligence which presided over their perform- and brilliant courage, which may be said to
ance. Neither was it known, we are per- have constituted his professional character.
suaded, that those virtues and services actually His first great battle was that which ended in
cost him his life! and that the difficulty of Lord Howe's celebrated victory of the 1st of
finding, in our large list of admirals, any one June, 1794; and we cannot resist the temptafit to succeed him in the important station tion of heading our extracts with a part of
which he filled in his declining years, induced  the account he has given of it, in a letter to
the government, - most ungenerously, we his father-in-law, Mr. Blackett-not so much
must say, and unjustly,-to refuse his earnest for the purpose of recalling the proud feelings
desire to be relieved of it; and to insist on which must ever cling to the memory of our
his remaining to the last gasp, at a post which first triumph over triumphant France, as for
he would not desert so long as his country the sake of that touching mixture it presents,
required him to maintain it, but at which, it of domestic affection and family recollections,
was apparent to himself, and all the world, with high professional enthusiasm, and the
that he must speedily die. The details now  kindling spirit of war. In this situation he
before us will teach the profession, we hope, says:by what virtues and what toils so great and
so pure a fame can alone be won; and by   "We cruised for a few days, like disappointed
rendering in this way such characters less people looking fbr what we could not find, until the
rare, will also render the distinction to which morning of little Sarah's birth-day, between eight
r~ wiasornerteditntintwiand nine o'clock, when the French fleet, of twentythey lead less fatal to its owners: While they five sail of the line was discovered to windward.
cannot fail, we think, to awaken the govern- We chased them, and they bore down within about
ment to a sense of its own ingratitude to those five miles of us. The night was spent in watching
who have done it the noblest service, and of and preparation for the succeeding day; and many
the necessity of at last adopting some of the a blessing did I send forth to my Sarah, lest I should
sug-gyestions which those great benefactors never bless her more! At dawn, we made our apuggestions  which those great benefactors proach on the enemy, then drew up, dressed our
have so long pressed on its attention.      ranks, and it was about eight when the Admiral
We have not much concern with the gene- made the signal for each ship to engage her oppo.
alogy or early history of Lord Collingwood. nent, and bring her to close action,-and then down
He was born in 1750, of an honourable and we went under a crowd of sail, and in a manner
ancient family of Northumberland, but of that would have animated the coldest heart, and
struck terror into the most intrepid enemy. The
slender patrimony; and went to sea, under ship we were to engage was two a-head of the
the care of his relative, Captain, afterwards French Admiral, so that we had to go through his
Admiral Brathwaite, when only eleven years fire and that of the two ships next him, and received
old. He used, himself, to tell, as an instance all their broadsides two or three times before we
of his youth and simplicity at this time, fired a gun. It was then near ten o'clock. I ob"that as he was sitting crying for his sepa- served t o t     he Admiral,   that ab     thought thatime our
iation from  home, the first lieutenant ob- the pealwe shoufd ring about the Frenchman's ears
served him, and pitying the tender years of would outdo their parish bells! Lord Howe began




ADMIRAL LORD COLLINGWOOD.                                     661
his fire some time before we Jid; and he is not in the admirals, and from  Captain Nelson, to
the habit of firing soon. We got very near indeed, whose aid he came most gallantly in a moand then began such a fire as would have done you ment of grea
good to have heard! During the whole action the essary to repair this a      lkward  omission.
most exact order was preserved, and no accident essary to repair this awkward omission.
happened but what was inevitable, and the conse-   "When Lord St. Vincent informed Captain Colquence of the enemy's shot. In ten minutes the lingwood that he was to receive one of the medals
Admiral was wounded; I caught him in my arms which were distributed on this occasion, he told the
before he fell: the first lieutenant was slightly  Admiral, with great feeling and firmness, that he
wounded by the same shot, and I thought I was in could not consent to receive a medal, while that for
a fair way of being left on deck by myself; but the the 1st of June was withheld.'I feel,' said ne,
lieutenant got his head dressed, and came up again.' that I was then improperly passed over; and to reSoon after, they called from the forecastle that the ceive such a distinction now, would be to acknow.
Frenchman was sinking; at which the men started  ledge the propriety of that injustice.'-' That is pre.
up and gave three cheers. I saw the French ship cisely the answer which I expected from you, Capdismasted and on her broadside, but in an instant tain Collingwodd,' was Lord St. Vincent's reply.
she was clouded with smoke, and I do not know    " The two medals were afterwards-and as Cap.
whether she sunk or not. All the ships in our tain Collingwood seems to have thought, by desire
neighbourhood were dismasted, and are taken, ex- of the King-transmitted to him at the same time
cept the French Admiral, who was driven out of the by Lord Spencer, the then First Lord of the Admiline by Lord Howe, and saved himself by flight."  ralty, with a civil apology for the former omission.' I congratulate you most sincerely,' said his LordIn 1796 he writes to the same gentleman, ship,' on having had the good fortune to bear so
from before Toulon-                            conspicuous a part on two such glorious occasions;
It is but dull work, lying off the enemy's port: and have troubled you with this letter, only to say,
that the former medal would have been transmitted
they cannot move a ship without our, seeing them, that the forme monthsedal would have been transmitted
which must be very mortifying to them; but we had been fountd for it.'
have the mortification also to see their merchantvessels going along shore, and cannot molest them.   We add the following little trait of the unIt is not a service on which we shall get fat; and  daunted Nelson, from  a letter of the same
often do I wish we had some of those bad potatoes
which Old Scott and William used to throw over year
the wall of the garden, for we feel the want of vege-   "My friend Nelson, whose spirit is equal to all
tables more than anything!                     undertakings, and whose resources are fitted to all
" The accounts I receive of my dear girls give occasions, was sent with three sail of' the line and
me infinite pleasure.  How happy I shall be to see some other ships to Teneriffe, to surprise and cap.
them again! but God knows when the blessed day  ture it. After a series of adventures, tragic and
will come in which we shall be again restored to the comic, that belong to romance, they were obliged
comforts of domestic life; for here, so far from any  to abandon the enterprise. Nelson was shot in the
prospect of peace, the plot seems to thicken, as if right arm when landing, and was obliged to be carthe most serious part of the war were but beginnings"  ried on board. He himself hailed the ship, and desired the surgeon would get his instruments ready
In 1797 he had a great share in the splendid  to dis-arm him; and in half an hour after it was off,
victory off Cape St. Vincent, and write!s, as he gave all the orders necessary for carrying on their
usual, a simple and animated account of it to operations, as if nothing had happened to him. In
Mr. Blackett.  Weomittewarthree weeks after, when he joined us, he went on
Mr. Blackett.  We omit the warlike details, board the Admiral, and I think exerted himself to
however, and give only these characteristic  a degree of great imprudence."
sentences: — 
The following letter to Captain Ball, on oc"I wrote to Sarah the day after the action with  casion of the glorious victory of the Nile, may
the Spaniards, but I am afraid I gave her but an serve to illustrate what we have stated as to
imperfect account of it. It is a very difficult thing                        s
for those engaged in such a scene to give the de- the generous and cordial sympathy with rival
tail of the whole, because all the powers they have glory and fortune, which breathes throughout
are occupied in their own part of it. As to myself, the whole correspondence:I did my duty to the utmost of my ability, as I have   cannot express to you how great my joy was
ever done: That is acknowledged now; and that when the news arved  f the complete and unparal
is the only real difference between this and the leled victory which you obtained over the French;
former action. One of the great pleasures I have or what were my emotions of thankfulness, that the
received from this glorious event is, that I expect it life of myworthy and much-respected friend was
will enable me to provide handsomely for those who  preserved through such a day of danger, to his
serve me well. Give my love to my wife, and  family and his country. I congratulate you, my
blessing to my children.  What a day it will be to dear friend, on your success. Oh, my dear Ball,
me when I meet them  again! T he Spaniards how I have lamented that I was not one of you!
always carry their patron saint to sea with them, Many a victory has been  von, and I hope many
and I have given St. Isidro a berth in my cabin: It are yet to come, but there never has'een, nor will
was the least I could do for him, after he had con- be perhaps again, one in which the fruits have been
signed his charge to me. It is a good picture, as      completely gathered, the blow s nobly followed
you will see wvhgen h~e goees tota Morpeth.,,P"~t, asso completely gathered, the blow go nobly followed
you will see  hen he goes to Morpeth."  up, and the consequences so fairly brought to acBy some extraordinary neglect, Captain  count. I have heard with great pleasure, that your
Collingwood  had not received one of the  squadron has presented Sir H. Nelson with a sword;
medal generay hdiotreced to the o sit is the honours to which he led you reflected back
medals generally distributed to the officers upon himself,-the finest testimony of his merits for
who distinguished themselves in Lord Howe's having led you to a field in which you all so nobly
action; and it is to this he alludes in one of displayed your own. The expectation of the people
the passages we have now cited. His efforts, of England was raised to the highest pitch; the
however. on this last occasion, having been  event has exceeded all expectation."
the theme of universal admiration throughout   After this he is sent for repairs, for a few
the fleet, and acknowledged indeed by a va- weeks to Portsmouth, and writes to his father
riety of grateful and congratulary letters from  in-law as follows: —




662                                  MISCELLANEOUS.
" We never know, till it is too late, whether we pected! It is delightful to have to record suck
are going too fast or too slow; but I am now re- a letter as the following, on occasion of such
penting that I did not persuade my dear Sarah to an affliction, from such a man as Nelson:conle to me as soon as I knew I was not to go from
this port; but the length of the journey, the inclem-   "My dear Friend,-I truly feel for you, and as
ency of the weather, and the little prospect of my  much for poor Mrs. Colingwood. How sorry I
staying here half this time, made me think it an un- am! For Heaven's sake, do not think I had the
necessary fatigue for her. I am now quite sick at gift of foresight; but somnething told me, so it would
heart with disappointment and vexation; and though  be. Can't you contrive and stay to-night? it will
I hope every day for relief, yet I find it impossible  be a comfort if only to see your family one hour.
to say when I shall be clear.                   Therefore, had you not better stay on shore and
"Last night I went to Lady Parker's twelfth- wait for her? Ever, my dear Collingwood, believe
night, where all the gentlemen's children of the me, your affectionate and faithful friend,
town were at dance and revelry: But I thought of                       " NELSON AND BRONTE.
nmy own! and was so completely out of spirits that   "If they would only have manned me and sent
I left them in the middle of it. My wife shall know  me off, it would have been realpleasure tome. How
all my movements, even the very hour in which I cross are the fates!"
shall be able to come to you. I hope they will not
hurry me to sea again, for my spirit requires some    He does stay accordingly, and sees those
respite from the anxieties which a ship occasions.   beloved pledges for a few short hours.  We
" Bless my precious girls for me, and their be- will not withhold from our readers his account
loved mother."                                  of it:
The following are in the same tone of ten-   " Sarah will have told you how and when we
derness and considerate affection; and coming  met; it was a joy to me that I cannot describe, and
from  the hand of the fiery warrior, and de- repaid me, short as our interview was, for a world
voted servant of his country, are to us ex- of woe which I was suffering on her account. I had
tremely touching: —                             been reckoning on the possibility of her arrival that
Tuesday, when about two o'clock I received an
" Would to God that this war were happily con- express to go to sea immediately with all the ships
eluded! It is anguish enough to me to be thus for that were ready, and had we not then been engaged
ever separated from my family; but that my Sarah at a court martial, I might have got out that day;
should, in my absence, be suffering from illness, but this business delaying me till near night, I deis complete misery. Pray, my dear sir, have the termined to wait on shore until eight o'clock for the
goodness to write a line or two very often, to tell chance of their arrival. I went to dine with Lord
me how she does. I am quite pleased at the ac- Nelson; and while we were at dinner their arrival
count you give me of my girls. If it were peace, I do  was announced to me. I flew to the inn where I
not think there would be a happier set of creatures had desired my wife to come, and found her and
in Northumberland than we should be!....       little Sarah as well after their journey as if it had
" It is a great comfort to me, banished as I am  lasted only for the day. No greater happiness is
froin all that is dear to me, to learn that my beloved  human nature capable of than was mine that evenSarah and her girls are well. Would to Heaven it ing; but at dawn we parted-and I wvent to sea!"
were-peace! that I might come, and for the rest of   And afterwardsmy life be blessed in their affection. Indeed, this
unremitting hard service is a great sacrifice; giving    "You will have heard from Sarah what a meet.
up all that is pleasurable to the soul, or soothing to ing we had, how short our interview, and how sudthe mind, and engaging in a constant contest with denly we parted. It is grief to me to think of it
the elements, or with tempers and dispositions as now; it almost broke my heart then. After such a
boisterous and untractable. Great allowance should  journey, to see me but for a few hours, with scarce
be made for us when we come on shore: for being time for her to relate the incidents of her journey,
long in the habits of absolute command, we grow  and no time for me to tell her half that my heart felt
impatient of contradiction, and are unfitted, I fear, at such a proof of her affection: But I am thankful
for the gentle intercourse of quiet life. I am really  that I did see her, and my sweet child. It was a
in great hopes that it will not be long before the ex- blessing to me, and composed my mind, which was
periment will be made upon me-for I think we before very much agitated. I have little chance of
shall soon have peace; and I assure you that I will seeing her again, unless a storm should drive us into
endeavour to conduct myself with as much modera-. port, for the French fleet is in a state of preparation as possible! I have come to another resolution, tion, which makes it necessary for us to watch them
which is, when this war is happily terminated, to narrowly.
think no more of ships, but pass the rest of my days    " I can still talk to you of nothing but the delight
in the bosom of my family, where I think my pros- I experienced in the little I have had of the company
pects of happiness are equal to any man's."..    of my beloved wife and of my little Sarah. What
" You have been made happy this winter in the comfort is promised to me in the affections of that
visit of your daughter. How glad should I have child, if it should please God that we ever again rebeen could I have joined you! but it will not be turn to the quiet domestic cares of peace! I should
long; two years more will, I think, exhaust me be much obliged to you if you would send Scott a
completely, ar.n then I shall be fit only to be nursed. guinea for me, for these hatd times must pinch the
God knows now little claim I have on anybody to poor old man, and he will miss my wife, who was
take that trouble. My daughters can never be to very kind to him!"
me what yours have been, whose affections have
been nurtured by daily acts of kindness. They may    Upon the peace of Amiens he at last got
be told that it is a duty to regard me, but it is not home, about the middle of 1802. The followreasonable to expect that they should have the same  ing brief sketch of his enjoyment there, is
feeling for'a person of whom they have only heard: from the hand of his affectionate editor:
But if they are good and virtuous, as I hope and believe they will be, I may share at least in their kind-    "During this short period of happiness and rest,
ness with the rest of the world."               he was occupied in superintending the education of
He decides at last on sending for his wife and  his daughters, and in continuing those habits of
child, in the hope of being allowed to remain  study which had long been familiar to him. His
for some months a           t Po rtsmouth- but  reading was extensive, particularly in history; and
for some months at Portsmouth'  but is sud- it was his constant practice to exercise himself in
derly ordered off on the very day they are ex- composition, by making abstracts from the boolks




ADMIRAL LORD COLLINGWOOD.                                     6fb
which he read; and some of his abridgments, with respecting my intentions, and to give full scope to
the observations by which he illustrated them, are your judgment for carrying them into effect.  We
written with singular conciseness and power.'I can, my dear Coll., have no little jealousies: we
know not,' said one of the most eminent English  have only one great object in view-that of annidiplomatists, with whom he had afterwards very  hilating our enemies, and getting a glorious peace
frequent communications, I know not where Lord  fbr our country. No man has more confidence in
Collingwood got his style, but he writes better another than I have in you; and no man will renthan any of us.' His amusements were found in der your services more justice than your very old
the intercourse with his family, in drawing, plant- friend,           NELSON AND BRONTE."
ing, and the cultivation of his garden, which was on
the bank of the beautiful river Wansbeck. This was
his favourite employment; and on one occasion, a highly characteristic of its author, we will not
brother Admiral, who had sought him through the indulge ourselves by transcribing any part of
garden in vain, at last discovered him with his gar- the memorable despatch, in which Lord Col.
dener, old Scott, to whom he was much attached, lingwood, after the fall of his heroic commandin the bottom  of a deep trench, which they were er announced its result to his country.  We
both busily occupied in digging."              er, announced t result to his country.
cannot however, withhold from  our readers
In spring 1803. however, he was again call- the following particulars as to his personal
ed upon duty.by his ancient commander, conduct and  deportment, for which  they
Admiral Cornwallis, who hailed him as he ap- would look in vain in that singularly modest
proached, by saying, " Here comes Colling- and generous detail. The first part, the editor
wood!-the last to leave, and the first to re- informs us, is from the statement of his confijoin me!" His occupation there was to watch  dential servant.
and blockade the French fleet at Brest, a duty    "'I entered the Admiral's cabin,' he observed,
which he performed with the most unwearied'about daylight, and found him already up and
and scrupulous anxiety.                        dressing. He asked if I had seen the French fleet;
"During this time he frequently passed the whole  andonmyreplying that I hadnot,he told me to
niht on the quarter-deck,-a practice which, in look out at them, adding, that, in a very short time,
night on the quarter-deck,-a prawc       h          should see a great deal more of them. I then
circumstances of difficulty, he continued till the w  should see a great deal more of them. I then
latemst years of dhis life. When, ontinedl theese oobserved a crowd of ships to leeward; but I could
latest years ofld his friend Lieut. When, on these occasions, not help looking, with still greater interest, at the
he has told his friend Lieutenant Clayell, who had
gained his entire confidence, that they must not Admiral, who, during all this time, was shavin
h imself with a composure thatt quite astonishe
leave the deck for the night, and that officer has               himself with a composure that quite astonishe
endeavoured to persuade him that there was no oc-me!' Admiral Colingw    ood dressed himself that
casion for it, as a good look-out was kept, and re- mornin  with peculiar care; and soon after, meet
presented that he was almost exhausted with fa-ng Lieutenant Clavell, advised him to pull off his
tigue; the Admiral would reply,' I fear you are. stocks,  as I had: for if one s hould get o
You have need of rest so    go to beds, as Cl                have dollne: for if one should get a
You have need of rest; so go to bed, Clavell, and shot in the leg, they would be so much more
I will watch by myself.' Very frequently have shot in the leg, they would be so much more
they slept together on a gun; from which Admiral manageable for the surgeon.' He ten proceeded
Collingwood would risefrom time    to visit the decks, encouraged the men to the disthe horizongwood woudith his nioht-glass, lest tie, to sweep enemy charge of their duty, and addressing the officers,
the horizon  with his night-glass, lest the enemy     to them,INow, gentlemen, let us do soreshould escape in the dark."                    said to them,'Now, gentlemen, let us do something to-day which the world may talk of hereafter.'
In 1805 he was moved to the station off  *"Ile had changed his flag about ten days before
Cadiz and condemned to the same weary  the action, from the Dreadnought; the crew of
which had been so constantly practised in the exertask of watching and observation. He here  cise of the great guns, under his daily superintenwrites to his father-in-law as follows:        dence, that few ships' companies could equal them
" How happy should E be, could I but hear from in rapidity and precision of firing. He had begun
hnme, and know how my dear girls are going on!'by telling them, that if they could fire three wellBounce is my only pet now, and -he is indeed a good directed broadsides in five minutes, no vessel could
fellow; he sleeps by the side of my cot, whenever resist them  and, from constant practice, they were
I lie in one, until near the time of tacking, and then   do so in three minutes and a half. But
marches off, to be out of the hearing ofthgus t hoghe gleft a crew which had thus been discimgoftheguns, plined under his own eye, there was an advantage
for he is not reconciled to them yet. I am fully de-  ined under his own eye, there was an advantage
termined, if I can get home and manage it properly, he  had lately retrned from England, and an
to go on shore next spring for the rest of my life, for he   went, had late return ed from England, and as
I am very weary. There is no end to my business;  her     s       lethey were
I am at work from morning till even; but I dare              t
say Lord Nelson will be out next month. He told running down, the well-known telegraphic signal
me he should; and then what will become of me I was made of' England expects every man to do his
do not know. I should wish to go home:  but I must duty.' When the Admiral observed it first, he said
or stay as the exigencies of the times require."  that he wished Nelson would make no more signals,
go or stay as the exigencies of the times require."
for they all understood what they were to do: but
At last, towards the close of the year, the  when the purport of it was communicated to him he
enemy gave some signs of an intention to  expressed great delight and admiration, and made
come out-and the day of Trafalgar was at it known to the officers and ship's company. Lord
hand.  In anticipation of it    f Lord Nelson ad- Nelson had been requested by Captain Blackwood
hand. In anticipation  of it     i Lord Nelson ad- (who was anxious for the preservation of so invaludressed the following characteristic note to his able a life) to allow some other vessel to take the
friend, which breathes in every line the noble  lead, and at last gave permission that the Temeraire
frankness and magnanimous confidence of his. should go a-head of him; but resolving to defeat
soul:-                                         the order which he had given, he crowded more
sail on the Victory, and maintained his place. The
"They surely cannot escape us. I wish we Royal Sovereign was far in advance when Lieutecould get a fine day. I send you my plan of attack, nant Clavell observed that the Victory was setting
as far as a man dare venture to guess at the very  her studding sails, and with that spirit of honouruncertain position the enemy may be found in: but, able emulation which prevailed between the squad.
my dear friend, it is to place you perfectly at ease rons, and particularly between these two ships, as




664                                  MISCELLANEOUS.
pointed it out to Admiral Collingwood, and re- more than thirty years. In this affair he did nothing
quested his permission to do the same.' The ships without my counsel: we made our line of' battlr
of our division,' replied the Admiral,' are not yet together, and concerted the mode of attack, which
sufficiently up for us to do so now; but you may be  was put in execution in the most admirable style
getting ready.' The studding sail and royal halliards I shall grow very tired of the sea soon; my health
were accordingly manned, and in about ten minutes has suffered so much from the anxious state I have
the Admiral, observing Lieutenant Clavell's eyes been in, and the fatigue I have undergone, that I
fixed upon him with a look of expectation, gave him  shall be unfit for service. The severe gales which
a nod; on which that officer went to Captain  immediately followed the day of victory ruined our
Rotherham and told him that the Admiral desired  prospect of prizes."
him to make all sail. The order was then given to    He was now elevated to the peerage, an  a
rig out and hoist away, and in one instant the ship
was under a crowd of sail, and went rapidly a-head. pension of 20001. was settled on him by parliaThe Admiral then directed the officers to see that ment for his own life, with 10001. in case of his
all the men lay down on the decks, and were kept death to Lady Collingwood, and 5001. to each
quiet. At this time the Fougueux, the ship astern  of his daughters. His Royal Highness the Duke
of the Santa Anna, had closed up with the intention  of Clarence also honoured him with a very kind
of preventing the Royal. Sovereign from  going letter and presented him with a swrd.  The
through the line; and when Admiral Collingwood                     ed him with a sward. The
observed it, he desired Captain Rotherham to steer way in which he received all those honours,
immediately for the Frenchman and carry away his is as admirable as the services by which they
bowsprit. To avoid this the Fougueux backed her were earned.  On the first tidings of his peermain top sail, and suffered the Royal Sovereign to age he writes thus to Lady Collingwood
pass, at the same time beginning her fire; when
the Admiral ordered a gun to be occasionally fired    "It would be hard if I could not find one hour to
at her. to cover his ship with smoke.           write a letter to my dearest Sarah, to congratulate
" The nearest of the English ships was now dis- her on the high rank to which she has been advanctant about a mile from the Royal Sovereign; and  ed by my success. Blessed may you be, my dearit was at this time, while she was pressing alone est love, and may you long live the happy wife of
into the midst of the combined fleets, that Lord  your happy husband! I do not know how you bear
Nelson said to Captain Blackwood,' See how that your honours; but I have so much business on my
noble fellow, Collingwood, takes his ship into  hands, from dawn till midnight, that I have hardly
action. How I envy him!' On the other hand, time to think of niine, except it be in gratitude to
Admiral Collingwood, well knowing his comman- my King, who has so graciously conferred them
der and friend, observed,'What would Nelson  upon me. But there are many things of which I
give to be here!' and it was then, too, that Admiral might justly be a little proud —for extreme pride is
Villeneuve, struck with the daring manner in which  folly-that I must share my gratification with' you.
the leading ships of the English squadrons came  The first is the letter from Colonel Taylor, his Ma.
down, despaired of the issue of the contest. In  jesty's private secretary to the Admiralty, to be
passing the Santa Anna, the Royal Sovereign gave communicated to me. I enclose you a copy of it.
her a broadside and a half into her stern, tearing it It is considered the highest compliment the King
down, and killing and wounding 400 of her men; can pay; and, as the King's personal compliment,
then, with her helm hard a-starboard, she ranged  I value it above everything. But I will tell you
up alongside so closely that the lower yards of the what I feel nearest to my heart, after the honour
two vessels were locked together. The Spanish  which his Majesty has done me, and that is the
admiral, having seen that it was the intention of the praise of every officer of the fleet. There is a thing
Royal Sovereign to engage to leeward, had col- which has made a considerable impression upon me.
lected all his strength on the starboard; and such A week before the war, at Morpeth, I dreamed dis.
was the weight of the Santa Anna's metal, that her tinctly many of the circumstances of our late battle
first broadside made the Sovereign heel two streaks off the enemy's port, and I believe I told you of it
out of the water. Her studding-sails and halliards at the time: but I never dreamed that I was to be a
were now shot away; and as a top-gallant studding- peer of the realm! How are my darlings? I hope
sail was hanging over the gangway hammocks, they will take pains to make themselves wise and
Admiral Collingwood called  out to Lieutenant good. and fit for the station to which they are raised."
Clavell to come and help him to take it in, observ-    And again a little after
ing that they should want it again some other day.
These two officers accordingly rolled it carefully    "I labour from dawn till midnight, till I can hardup and placed it in the boat."*                 ly see; and as my hearing fails me too, you will
We shall- add only twhat he says in his let- have but a mass of infirmities in your poor Lord,
whenever he returns to you. I suppose I must not
ter to Mr. Blackett of Lord Nelson: —           be seen to work in my garden now! but tell old
" When my dear friend received his wound, he Scott that he need not be unhappy on that account.
immediately sent an officer to me to tell me of it, — Though we shall never again be able to plant the
and give his love to me! Though the officer was        potatoes, e wll he  e them of some other
directed to say the wound was not dangerous, I read sort, and right noble cabbages to boot, in great perin his countenance what I had to fear; and before fecion. You see I am styled of Hethpoole and
the action was over, Captain Hardy came to inform Caldburne. Was that by your direction  I should
me of his death. I cannot tell you how deeply I was prefer it to any other title if it was; and I rejoice,
affected; my friendship for him was unlike any- my love, that we are an instance that there are other
thing that I have left in the navy; a brotherhood of and better sources of nobility than wealth."
At this time he had nriot heard that it was
*" Of his economy, at all times, of the ship's intended to accompany his dignity with any
stores, an instance was often mentioned in the navy pension; and though the editor assures us
as having occurred at the battle of St. Vincent. pensi         though the editor assures us
The Excellent shortly before the action had bent a that his whole income, even including his full
view fore-topsail: and when she was closely en- pay, was at this time scarcely 11001. a year,
gaged with the St. Isidro, Captain Collingwood  he never seems to have wasted a thought on
called out to his boatswain, a very gallant man, such a consideration.  Not that he was notat
who was shortly afterwards killed,'Bless me! all times a prudent and considerate person,
Mr. Peffers, how came we to forget to bend ourate person,
old top-sail? They will quite ruin that new one, It but, with the high spirit of a gentleman and
will never be worth a farthing again.' "        an independent Englishman, who had made




ADMIRAL LORD CoLLINGWOOD.                                     665
his own way in the world, he disdained all but keep a good fire in winter. How I long to have
sordid considerations. Nothing can be nobler, a peep into my own house, and a walk in my own
or more natural, than the way in which he ex- garden! It is the pleasing object of all my hopes."
presses this sentiment, in another letter to his   In the midst of all those great concerns, it
wife, written a few  weeks after the prece- is delightful to find the noble Admiral writing
ding:-                                         thus, from  the Mediterranean, of his daughMany of the Captains here have expressed a ter's sick governess, and inditing this post"Many                 othCatishrhaeepesdscript to the little girls themselves:desire that I would give them a general notice whenever I go to court; and if they are within five hun-   "How sorry am I for poor Miss! I am
dred miles, they will come up to attend me! Now  sure you will spare no pains for her; and do not
all this is very pleasing; but, alas! my love, until lose sight of her when she goes to Edinburgh. Tell
we have peace, I shall never be happy: and yet, her that she must not want any advice or ally comhow we are to make it out in peace, I know not,- fort; but I need not say this to you, my beloved,
with high rank and no fortune. At all events, we who are kindness itself. I am much obliged to the
can do as we did before. It is true I have the chief Corporation of' Newcastle for every mark which
command, but there are neither French nor Span- they give of' their esteem  and approbation of my
iards on the sea, and our cruisers find nothing but service. But where shall we find a place in our
neutrals, who carry on all the trade of the enemy. small house for all those vases and epergnes? A
Our prizes you see are lost. Villeneuve's ship had kind letter from them would have gratified me as
a great deal of money in her, but it all went to the much, and have been less trouble to them."
bottom. I am afraid the fees for this patent will be  "My darlings, Sarah and Mary,
large, and pinch me: But never mind; let others
plargensio and pinch me: But never mind; let others " I was delighted with your last letters, my blesssolicit pensions, I am an Englishman, and will never ings, and desire you to write to me very often, and
ask for money as a favour. How do myw darlings tell me all the news of the city of Newcastle and
go on?  I wish you would make them write to me town of Morpet. I hope we shall have many happy
by turns, and give me the whole history of their days, and many a good laugh together yet. Be
proceedings. Oh!  how  1 shall rejoice, when I kind to old Scott; and when you see him weeding
come home, to find them as much improved in
knowledge as I have advanced them in station in my oaIs, yive the old man a shbllng 
the world: But take care they do not give themselves foolish airs. Their excellence should be in    The patent of his peerage was limited to
knowledge, in virtue, and benevolence to all; but the heirs male of his body  and, having only
most to those who are humble, and require their aid. dauhter  he very early expressed a
This is true nobility, and is now become an incum-    a,    very early  expressed a  wish
bent duty on them. -I am out of all patience with that it might be extended to them  and their
Bounce. The consequential airs he gives himself male heirs.  But this was not attended to.
since he became a Right Honourable dog, are insuf- When he heard of his pension, he wrote, in
ferable. He considers it beneath his dignity to play the same lofty spirit, to Lord Barham, that if
with Commoners' dogs, and, truly, thinks that he the title could be continued to the heirs of his
does them grace when he condescends to lift up his daughters, he did not care for the pension at
leg against them. This, I think, is carrying the in- daughters)   he d id not care    for the pension at
solence of rank to the extreme; but he is a dog that all! and in urging his request for the change,
does it.-25th December.'I'his is Christmas-day; he reminded his Lordship, with an amusing
a merry and cheerful one, I hope, to all my darlings. naivet6, that government ought really to show
May God bless us, and grant that we may pass the some little favour to his daughters, considering
next together. Everybody is very good to me; but that, if they had not kept him  constantly at
his Majesty's letters are my pride: it is there I feel
the object of my life attained."
the object of my life attained."               sea since 1793, he would probably have had
half a dozen sons by this time, to succeed him
And again, in the same noble spirit is the in his honours!
following to his father-in-law:-                 It is delightful to read and extract passages
"I have only been on shore once since I left like these; but we feel that we must stop;
England, and do not know when I shall go again. and that we have already exhibited enough
I am unceasingly writing, and the day is not long of this book, both to justify the praises we
enough for me to get through my business. I hope have bestowed on it, and to give our readers
my children are every day acquiring some know- a full impression of the exalted and most
ledge, and wish them to write a French letter every amiable character to which it relates.  We
day to me or their mother. I shall read them all     a mabl e  c haract er  to wh ich  t  rela
when I come home. If there were an opportunity, shall add no mor  therefore, that is merely
I should like them to be taught Spanish, which is personal to Lord Collingwood, except what
the most elegant language in Europe, and very easy. belongs to the decay of his health. his applica.
I hardly know how we shall be able to support the tions for recall, and the death that he magnanidignity to which his Majesty has been pleased to mously staid to meet when that recall was so
raise Ine. Let others plead for pensions; I can be strangely withheld.  His constitution had been
rich without money, by endeavouring to be supe.
rior to everything poor. I would have my services considerably impaired even before the action
to my country unstained by any interested motive; of Trafalgar; but in 1808 his health seemed
and old Scott and I can go on in our cabbage-garden  entirely to give way; and he wrote, in Augustwithout much greater expense than formerly. But of that year, earnestly entreating tb be allowed
I have had a great destruction of my furniture and to come home. The answer to his application
stock;.I have hardly a chair that has not a shot in wasthat it was so diffcult to supply his place,
it, and many have lost both legs and arms-without was that it was so difficult to supply his place,
hope of pension! My wine broke in moving, and that his recall must, at all events, be suspendmy pigs slain in battle; and these are heavy losses ed. In a letter to Lady Collingwood, he refers
where they cannot be replaced...               to this correspondencet and after mentioning
"I suppose I shall have great demands on me for his official application to the Admiralty, he
patents and fees: But we must pay for being great. sa
Iget no prize-money. Since I left England, I have   ay
received only 1831., which has not quite paid for my    " What their answer will be, I do not know yet,
wine; but I do not care about being rich, if we can but I had before mentioned my declining health to




666                                 MISCELLANEOUS
Lord Mulgrave, and he tells me in reply, that he be required of hTm.' When he moored in the harhopes I will stay, for he knows not how to supply  bour of Port Mahon, on the 25th of February, hn,
my place. The.impression which his letter made was in a state of great suffering and debility; and
upon me was one of grief and sorrow: first, that having been strongly recommended by his medical
with such a list as we have-including more than a attendants to try the effect of gentle exercise on
hundred admirals-there should be thought to be horseback, he went immediately on shore, accomany difficulty in finding a successor of superior ability  panied by his friend Captain Hallowell, who left his
to me; and next, that there should be any obstacle ship to attend him in his illness: but it was then too
in the way of the only comfort and happiness that I late. He became incapable of bearing the slightest
have to look forward to in this world."        fatigue; and as it was represented to him that his
return to England was indispensably necessary for
In answer to Lord Mulgrave's statement, the preservation of his life, he, on the 3d of March,
he afterwards writes, that his infirmities had  surrendered his command to Rear Admiral Martin.
sensibly increased; but a I have no object in  The two following days were spent in unsuccessful
attempts to warp the Ville de Paris out of Port Mathe world that I put in competition with my  hon; but on the 6th the wind came round to the
public duty; and so long as your lordship thinks westward, and at sunset the ship succeeded in clear.
it proper to continue me in this cotnmand, my  ing the harbour, and made sail for England. When
utmost efforts shall be made to strengthen the  Lord Collingwood was informed that he was again
impression which you now have; but I still at sea, he rallied for a time his exhausted strength,
hope, that whenever it may be done with con- and said to those around him,' Then I may yet live
to meet the French once more.' On the morning
venience, your lordship will bear in mind my  of the 7th there was a considerable sthell, and his
request."  Soon after he writes thus to his friend Captain Thomas, on entering his cabin, ob-.
family:-   I am  an unhappy creature-old  served, that he feared the motion of the vessel dis.
and worn out.  I wish to come to England; turbed him.'No, Thomas,' he replied;'I am now
but some objection is ever made to ~it."   And' ign a state in which nothing in this world can disturb
aguain, " I    have been very unwell.  The phy-me more. I am dying; and I am sure it must be
aain "I have been very unwell.  The phy  consolatory to you, and all who love me, to see how
sician tells me that it is the effect of constant comfortably I am coming to my end.' He told one
confinement-which is not very comfortable, of his attendants that he had endeavoured to review,
as there seems little chance of its being other- as far as was possible, all the actions of' his past life,
wise.  Old age and its infirmities are coming  and that he had the happiness to say, that nothing
gave him a moment's uneasiness. He spoke at
on mevery faegs. It -is high amweakandtotterin times of his absent family, and of the doubtful con.
on my legs.  It is high time I should return  test in which he was about to leave his country into England; and I hope I shall be allowed to volved, but ever with calmness and perfect resignado it before long. It will otherwise be too late."  tion to the will of God; and in this blessed state of
And it was too late! He was not relieved-  mind, after taking an affectionate farewell of his at.
and scorning to leave the post assigned to him, tendants, he expired without a struggle at six o'clock
while he had life to maintain it he died at it, in the evening of that day, having attained the age
iln March, 1810, upwards of eighteen    m ioth of fifty-nine years and six months.
ill March) 1810, upwards of ei~g~hteen months   "After his decease, it was found that,- with the
after he had thus stated to the government his exception of the stomach, all the other organs of
reasons for desiring a recall.  The following life were peculiarly vigorous and unimpaired; and
is the editor's touching and affectionate ac- from this inspection, and the age which the surviving
count of the closing scene-full ofpity and of members of his family have attained, there is every
reason to conclude that if he had been earlier regrandeur-and harmonising beautifully with  lieved from his command, he would still have been
the noble career which was destined there to in the enjoyment of the honours and rewards which
be arrested: —                                would doubtless have awaited him on his return to
" Lord Collingwood had been repeatedly urged England."
by his friends to surrender his command, and to
seek in England that repose which had become so    The remainder of this article, containing
necessary in his declining health; but his feelings discussions on the practices of flogging in the
on the subject of discipline were peculiarly strong  Navy, and of Impressment (to both which
and he had ever exacted the most implicit obedience Lord Collingwood, as well as Nelson  were
from others. He thought it therefore his duty not    ed), is now o         as  rely possessto quit the post which had been assigned to him, opposed), is now omitted; as scarcely possessuntil he should be duly relieved,-and replied,' that ing sufficient originality to justify its republihis life was his country's, in whatever way it might cation, even in this Miscellany.
(  e!rember, 132$.)
Narrative of a Journey through the Upper Provinces of India from Calcutta to Bombay, 1824,
1825 (with Notes upon Ceylon); an Account of a Journey to Madras and the Southern
Provinces, 1826; and Letters written in India. By the late Right Reverend REGINALD
HEBER, Lord Bishop of Calcutta.  Second Edition.  2 vols. 8vo.  London: 1828.
THIS is another book for Englishmen to be person to whom it relates-and that combinaproud of-almost as delightful as the Memoirs tion of gentleness with heroic ambition, and
of Lord Collingwood, and indebted for its at- simplicity with high station, which we would
tractions mainly to the same cause-the sin- still fondly regard as characteristic of our own
gularly amlable and exalted character of the nation. To us in Scotland the combination




BISHOP HEBER'S INDIA.                               667
seens, In this instance, even more admirable the rank and opulence which the station inmthan in that of the great Admiral. We have plied, were likely to realise this character in
no Bishops on our establishment; and have those who should be  placed in it, that our
been accustomed to think that we are better ancestors contended so strenuously for the
without them. But if we could persuade our- abrogation of the order, and thought their
selves that Bishops in general were at all like Reformation incomplete till it was finally put
Bishop Heber, we should tremble for our Pres- down-till all the ministers of the Gospel
b)yterian orthodoxy; and feel not onlyvenera- were truly pastors of souls, and stood in no
tion, but something very like envy for a com- other relation to each other than as fellowmunion which could number many such men labourers in the same vineyard.
among its ministers.                          If this notion be utterly erroneous, the
The notion entertained of a Bishop, in our picture which Bishop Heber has here drawn
antiepiscopal latitudes, is likely enough, we of himself, must tend powerfully to correct
admit, not to be altogether just: —and we are it. If, on the other hands it be in any respect
far from upholding it ascorrect, when we say, just. he must be allowed,  at all events, to
that a Bishop, among us is generally supposed  have been a splendid exception. We are
to be a stately and pompous person, clothed willing to take it either way. Though we
in purple and fine linen, and faring sumptu- must say that we incline rather to the latter
ously every day —somewhat obsequious to alternative-since it is difficult to suppose,
persons in power, and somewhat haughty and with all due allowance for prejudices, that
imperative to those who are beneath him-  our abstract idea of a Bishop should be ill
with more authority in his tone and manner, such flagrant contradiction to the truth, that
than solidity in his learning; and yet with one who was merely a fair specimen of the.
much more learning than charity or humility  order, should be most accurately character-very fond of being called my Lord, and ised by precisely reversing every thing that
driving about in a coach with mitres on the entered into that idea. Yet this is manifestly
panels, but little addicted to visiting the sick the case with Bishop Heber-of whom we do
and fatherless, or earning for himself the not know at this moment how we could give
blessing of those who are ready to perish-    a better description, than by merely reading
backwards all we have now ventured to set
Of Ladyships-amlstriaar with a  round   down as characteristic of his right reverend
brethren. Learndd, polished, and dignified,
Jecorous in manners, but no foe to luxurious he was undoubtedly; yet far more conspicuindulgences-rigid in maintaining discipline ously kind, humble, tolerant, and laborious —
among his immediate dependents, and in ex- zealousfor his church too, and not forgetful of
acting the homage due to his dignity from the his station; but remembering it more for the
undignified mob of his brethren; but perfectly duties than for the honours that were attached
willing to leave to them the undivided privi- to it, and infinitely more zealous for the releges of teaching and of comforting their peo- ligious improvement, and for the happiness,
ale, and of soothing the sins and sorrows of and spiritual and worldly good of his fellowiheir erring flocks — scornful, if not openly creatures, of every tongue, faith, and comhostile, upon all occasions, to the claims of plexion: indulgent to all errors and infirmithe People, from whom he is generally sprung ties-liberal, in the best and truest sense of
-and presuming every thing in favour of the the word-humble and conscientiously diffiroyal will and prerogative, by which he has dent of his own excellent judgment and neverbeen exalted-setting, indeed, in all cases, a failing charity-looking on all men as the
much higher value on the privileges of the children of one God, on all Christians as the
few, than the rights that are common to all, redeemed of one Saviour, and on all Christian
and exerting himself strenuously that the teachers as fellow-labourers, bound to help
former may ever prevail-caring more, ac- and encourage each other in their arduous
cor(lingly, for the interests of his order than and anxious task. His portion of the works
the geneial good of the church, and far more accordingly, he wrought faithfully, zealously,
for the Church than for the Religion it was and well; and, devoting himself to his duty
established to teach-hating dissenters still with a truly apostolical fervour, made no
more bitterly than infidels-but combating scruple to forego, for its sake, not merely his
botl: rather with obloquy and invocation of personal ease and comfort, but those domestic
civil penalties, than with the artillery of a affections which were ever so much more
ptwerful reason, or the reconciling influences valuable in his eyes, and in the end, we fear,
of a-i humble and holy life-uttering now  consummating the sacrifice with his life! If
and,hen haughty professions of humility, such a character be common among the dig.
and  e.ularly bewailing, at fit seasons, the nitaries of the English Church, we sincerely
severite of those Episcopal labours, which congratulate them on the fact, and bow ouI
sadder and even threaten to abridge a life, heads in homage and veneration before them.
which  t all other eyes appears to flow on in If it be rare, as we fear it must be in any
almost nnbroken leisure and continued in- church, we trust we do no unworthy service
dulgene!                                  in pointing it out for honour and imitation to
This, or something like this, we take to be all; and in praying that the example, in all
the notion that most of us Presbyterians have its parts, may promote the growth of similar
been used to entertain of a modern Bishop: virtues among all denominatiors o" Christians,
and it is mainly because they believed that in every region of the -world.




668                             MISCELLANEOUS.
But though th  great charm of the book be ed; and have for the most part seen even
derived from the character of its lamented those, only in the course of some limited pro.
author, we are not sure that this is by any fessional or official occupation, and only with
means what will give it its great or most per- the eyes of their peculiar craft or profession.
manent value. Independently of its moral They have been traders, or soldiers, or tax.
attraction, we are inclined to think it, on the gatherers-with here and there a diplomatic
whole, the most instructive and important agent, an engineer, or a naturalist-all, too
publication that has ever been given to the busy, and too much engrossed with the special
world, on the actual state and condition of our object of their several missions, to have time
Indian Empire: Not only exhibiting a more to look to the general condition of the countryclear, graphic, and intelligible account of the and almost all moving through it, with a reticountry, and the various races by which it is nue and accompaniment of authority, which
peopled, by presenting us with more candid, excluded all actual contact with the People
judicious, and reasonable views of all the and even, in a great degree, the possibility of
great questions relating to its destiny, and our seeing them in their natural state. We have
interests and duties with regard to it, than are historical memoirs accordingly, and accounts
any where else to be met with. It is the result, of military expeditions, of great value and
no doubt, of a hasty and somewhat superficial accuracy; and are beginning to have reports
survey. But it embraces a very wide and of the culture of indigo, of the general profits
various range, and thus affords the means of of trade, and of the heights and structure of
correcting errors, which are almost insepara- mountainsr that may be depended on. But,
ble from a narrower observation; and has, with the exception of Mr. Elphinstone's Cauabove all, the inestimable advantage of being bul and Sir John Malcolm's Central Indiagiven while the freshness of the first impres- both relating to very limited and peculiar dission was undiminished, and the fairness of tricts-we have no good account of the country
the first judgment unperverted by the gradual or the people. But by far the worst obstrucaccumulation of interests, prejudices, and de- tion to the attainment of correct information
ference to partial authorities; and given by is to be found in the hostility which has prea man not only free from all previous bias, vailed for the last fifteen or twenty years, bebut of such singular candour, calmness, and tween the adversaries and the advocates of
deliberation of judgment, that we would, in the East India Company and its monopoly;
almost any case, take his testimony, even and which has divided almost all who are now
on a superficial view, against that of a much able and willing to enlighten us on its concleverer person, who, with ampler opportuni- cerns, into the champions of opposite factions;
ties, had surveyed or reported with the feel- characterised. we fear we must add, with a
ings, consciously or unconsciously cherished, full share of the partiality, exaggeration, and
of an advocate, a theorist, a bigot or a partisan. inaccuracy, which has at all times been
Unhappily, almost all who have hitherto chargeable upon such champions. In solarge
had the means of knowing much about India, and complicated a subject, there is room of
have been, in a greater or less degree, subject course, for plausible representat ions on both
to these influences; and the consequence has sides; but what xxe chiefly complain of is,
been, that though that great country is truly that both parties have been so anxious to
a portion of our own-and though we may make a case for themselves. that neither of
find, in every large town, whole clubs of in- them have thought of stating the whole facts,
telligent men, returned after twenty or thirty so as to enable the public to judge between
years' residence in it in high situations, it is them. They have invariably brought forward
nearly impossible to get any distinct notion only what they thought peculiarly favourable
of its general condition, or to obtain such in- for themselves, or peculiarly unfavourable for
formation as to its institutions and capacities the adversary; and have fought to the utteras may be furnished by an ordinary book of ance upon those high grounds of quarrel; but
travels, as to countries infinitely less important have left out all that is not prominent and reor easy of access. Various causes, besides markable —that is, all that is truly characterthe repulsions of a hostile and jealous reli- istic of the general state of the country, and
gion, have conspired to produce this effect. the ordinary conduct of its government; by
In the first place, the greater part of our reve- reference to which alone, however. the real
nans have been too long in the other world, magnitude of the alleged benefits or abuses
to be able to describe it in such a way as to can ever be truly estimated.
be either interesting or intelligible to the in-   It is chiefly for these reasons that we have
habitants of this. They have been too long hitherto been shy, perhaps to a blamable exfamiliar with its aspect to know how they cess, in engaging with the great questions of
would strike a stranger; and have confounded. Indian policy, which have of late years en.
in their passive and incurious impressions, the grossed so much attention. Feeling the ex.
most trivial and insignificant usages, with treme difficulty of getting safe materials for
practices and principles that are in the highest our judgment, we have been conscientiously
degree curious, and of the deepest moral con- unwilling to take a decided or leading part in
uernment. In the next place, by far the greater discussions which did not seem to us to bs
part of these experienced and authoritative conducted, on either part, in a spirit of per
residents have seen but a very small portion feet fairness, on a sufficient view of well-es.
of the mighty regions with which they are tablished facts, or on a large and comprehen
too hastily presumed to be generally acquaint- sive perception of the principles to which




BISHOP HEBER'S INDIA.                               669
they referred. With a strong general leaning the bath, after having spent the morning in
against all monopoly and arbitrary restrictions, the offices of religion, on the 3d of April of
we could not but feel that the case of India that year.
was peculiar in many respects; and that more   The work before us consists of a very cothan usual deliberation was due, not only to pious journal, written for and transmitted to
its vast practical importance, but to the weight his wife, during his long peregrinations; and
of experience and authority that seemed ar- of several most valuable and interesting let.
rayed against our predilections; and we long- ters, addressed to her, and to his friends in
ed, above all things, for a calm and dispas- England, in the course of the same journey;
sionate statement of facts, from a recent and all written in a very pleasing, and even eleintelligent observer, unconnected, if possible, gant, though familiar style, and indicating in
either by interest or any other tie, with either every line not only the clear judgment and
of the parties, and untainted even by any various accomplishments of the writer, but
preparatory study of their controversies; but the singular kindness of heart and sweetness
applying his mind with perfect freedom and of temper, by which he seems to have been
fairness to what fell under his own immediate still more distinguished. He surveys every
observation. and recording his impressions thing with the vigilance and delight of a culwith that tranquil sincerity which can scarcely tivated and most active intellect-with the
ever be relied on but where the record is eye of an artist, an antiquary. and a naturalist
meant to be absolutely private, and is conse- -the feelings and judgment, of an English
quently made up without any feeling of re- gentleman and scholar-the sympathies of a
sponsibility, ambition, or deference.      most humane and generous man-and the
Such a statement, and much more than piety, charity, and humility of a Christian.
such a statement, we have in the work before The work is somewhat diffuse, and exhibits
us; and both now, and on all future occasions, some repetitions, and perhaps some inconsiswe feel that it has relieved us from the chief tencies. It is not such a work, in short, as
difficulty we have hitherto experienced in the author would himself have offered to the
forming our opinions, and supplied the most public. But we do not know whether it is
valuable elements for the discussions to which not more interesting than any that he could
we have alluded. The author, it must be ad- have prepared for publication. It carries ua
mitted, was more in connection with the Gov- more completely into the very heart of the
ernment than with any party or individual scenes he describes than any such work could
opposed to it, and was more exposed, there- have done, and it admits us more into his infore, to a bias in that direction. But he was, timacy. We pity those, we con fess, who find
at the same time, so entirely independent of it tedious to accompany such a man on such
its favours, and so much more removed from  a journey.
its influence than any one with nearly the   It is difficult to select extracts from a work
same means of observation, and was withal like this; or, rather, it is not worth while to
of a nature so perfectly candid, upright, and stand on selection. We cannot pretend to
conscientious, that he may be regarded, we give any abstract of the whole, or to transfer
think, as altogether impartial  and we verily to our pages any reasonable proportion of the
believe'has set down nothing in this private beauty or instruction it contains. We can
journal, intended only for his own eye or that only justify our account of it by a few speciof his wife, not only that he did not honestly mens, taken very much at random. The folthink, but that he would not have openly  lowing may serve to show the unaffected and
stated to the Governor in Council, or to the considerate kindness with which he treated
Court of Directors themselves.              his attendants, and all the inferior persons
The Bishop sailed for India with his family, who came in contact with him; and the effects
in 1823; and in June 1824, set out on the of that kindness on its objects.
visitation of his Imperial Diocese. having been
ob         liged, much against his will, to leave his inI" Two of my sepoys had been ill for several days,
obliged, much against his will. to leave his in much the same way with myself. I had treated
wife and children, on account of their health, them in a similar manner, and they were now doing
behind him. He ascended the Ganges to well: But being Brahmins of high caste, I had
Dacca and Benares, and proceeded by Oude much difficulty in conquering their scruples and
and Lucknow to Delhi and Agra, and to Al- doubts about the physic which I gave them. They
morah at the base of the Himalaya mountains, both said that they would rather die than taste wine.
and t s nar f thru   tHe   mountains, They scrupled at my using a spoon to measure their
and so onward through the newly-acquired castor-oil, and insisted that the water in which their
provinces of Malwah, to Guzerat and Bombay, medicines were mixed, should be poured by themwhere he had the happiness of rejoining Mrs. selves only. They were very grateful however,
Heber. They afterwards sailed together to particularly for the care I took of them when I was
Ceylon; and after some stay in that island, re- myself ill, and said repeatedly that the sight of me
Ja in-   ood health would be better to them than all
turned, 86   h  in2eaial Oc ltoe 5tCalctIanmedicines. They seemed now free from disease,
uary 1826, the indefatigable prelate sailed but recovered their strength more slowly than I did;
again for Madras, and proceeded in March to and I was glad to find that the Soubahdar said he
the visitation of the southern provinces; but was authorized, under such circumstances, to engage
had only reached Tanjore, when his arduous a hackery at the Company's expense, to carry them
and exemplary career was cut short, and all till they were fit to march. He mentioned this in
his labours of love and duty brought to an end consequence of my offaiderng them a rift on a camel,
by a sudden and most unexpected death-   "I had a singular instance this evening of the
having been seized with a fit in stepping into fact how mere children all soldiers, and I think par




670                                  MISCELLANEOUS.
ticularly sepoys, are, when put a little out of their and occurrences; the price of passage in the boat
usual way. On going to the tlace where my es- was only a few cowries; but a number of country
cort was hutted, I found that ther t was not room for folk were assembled, who could not, or would not,
them all under its shelter, and that four were pre- pay, and were now sitting patiently by the brink,
paring to sleep on the open field. Within a hun- waiting till the torrent should subside, or, what was
dred yards stood another similar hut unoccupied, a far less likely to happen, till the boatmen should
little out of repair, but tolerably tenantable.' Why  take compassion on them. Many of these poor
do you not go thither?' was my question.' We people came up to beg me to make the boatmen
like to sleep altogether,' was their answer.'But take them  over, one woman pleading that her
why not bring the branches here, and make your' malik our bucher,' (literally master, or lord, and
own hut larger? see, I will show you the way.' young one) had run away from her, and she wanted
They started up immediately in great apparent de- to overtake them; another that she and her two
light; every man brought a bough, and the work  grandchildren were following her son, who was a
was done in five minutes-being only interrupted  Havildar in the regiment which we had passed just
every now and then by exclamations of' Good, before; and some others, that they had been inter.
good, poor man's provider'-                     cepted the previous day by this torrent, and had
" A little before five in the morning, the servants neither money nor food till they had reached their
came to me for directions, and to say that the good homes. Four anas purchased a passage for the
careful old Soubahdar was very ill, and unable to  whole crowd, of perhaps thirty people, and they
leave his tent. I immediately put on my clothes were really very thankful. I bestowed two anas
and went down to the camp, in my way to which  more on the poor deserted woman, and a whimsical
they told me, that he had been taken unwell at scene ensued. She at first took the money with
night, and that Dr. Smith had given him medicine. eagerness, then, as if she recollected herself, she
He opened a vein, and with much humane patience, blushed very deeply, and seemed much confused,
continued to try different remedies while any chance then bowed herself to my feet, and kissed my hands,
remained; but no blood flowed, and no sign of life and at last said, in a very modest tone,'it was not
could be detected from the time of his coming up, fit for so great a man as I was, to give her two anas,
except a feeble flutter at the heart, which soon  and she hoped that I and the'chota Sahib,' (little
ceased. He was at an advanced age, at least for lord) would give her a rupee each!' She was an
an Indian, though apparently hale and robust. I extremely pretty little woman, but we were inexorfelt it a comfort that I had not urged him to any ex- able; partly, I believe, in my own case at least,
ertion, and that in fact I had endeavoured to persuade  because we had only just rupees enough to take us
him to lie still till he was quite well. But I was to Cawnpoor, and to pay for our men's provisions;
necessarily much shocked by the sudden end of one however, I gave her two more anas, my sole re.
who had travelled with me so far, and whose con- maining stock of small change."
duct had, in every instance, given me satisfaction.
Nor, while writing this, can I recollect without a    These few traits will do, we believe; but
real pang, his calm countenance and grey hairs, as we must add a few more. to let the reader
he sate in his tent door, telling his beads in an after- fully into the noble humanity and genuine
noon, or walked with me, as he seldom failed to softness of this man's heart.
do, through the villages on an evening, with his
own silver-hilted sabre under his arm, his loose cot-   "In the course of this evening a fellow, who
ton mantle folded round him, and his golden neck- said he was a gao-wala brought me two poor little
lace and Rajpoot string just visible above it.  leverets, which he said he had just found-in a field.
" The death of the poor Soubahdar led to the They were quite unfit to eat, and bringing them
question, whether there would be still time to send  was an act of cruelty of which there are few inon the baggage. All the Mussulmans pressed our stances among the Hindoos, who are generally
immediate departure; while the Hindoos begged  humane to wild animals. In this case, on my scoldthat they might be allowed to stay, at least, till ing the man for bringing such poor little things from
sunset. I determined on remaining, as, in my opin- their mother, all the crowd of camel-drivers and
ion, more decent and respectful to the memory of a camp-followers, of whom no inconsiderable number
good and aged officer."                         were around us, expressed great satisfaction and an
" In the way, at Futtehgunge, I passed the tents entire concurrence in my censure. It ended in the
pitched for the large party which were to return to- man promising to take them back to the very spot
wards Cawnpoor next day, and I was much pleased  (which he described) where he had picked them up,
and gratified by the Soubahdar and the greater and in my promising him an ana if he did so. To
number of the scpoys of my old escort running into see him keep his word two stout waggoner's boys
the middle of the road to bid me another farewell, immediately volunteered their services, and I have
and again express their regret that they were not no doubt kept him to his contract.
going on with me'to the world's end.' They who    " The same adviser wanted me to take off a joint
talk of the ingratitude of the Indian character, of Cabul's tail, under the hair, so as not to injure
should, I think, pay a little more attention to cases his appearance.'It was known,' he said,' that by
of this sort. These men neither got nor expected  how much the tail was made shorter, so much the
any thing by this little expression of good-will. If taller the horse grew.' I said' I could not believe
I had offered them money, they would have been  that God gave any animal a limb too much, or one
bound, by the rules of the service, and their own which tended to its disadvantage, and that as He
dignity, not to take it. Sufficient civility and re- had made my horse, so he should remain.' This
spect would have been paid if any of them who speech, such as it was, seemed to chime in wonderhappened to be near the road had touched their fully with the feelings of most of my hearers; and
caps, and I really can suppose them actuated by no one old man said, that' during all the twenty-two
motive but good-will. It had not been excited, so years that the English held the country, he had not
far as I know, by any particular desert on my part: heard so grave and godly a saying from any of them
but I had always spoken to them civilly, had paid before.' I thought of Sancho Panza and his wise
some attention to their comforts in securing them  apophthegms!
tents, firewood, and camels for their knapsacks, and    " Our elephants were receiving their drink at a
had ordered them a dinner, after their own fashion, well, and I gave the largest some bread, which,
on their arrival at Lucknow, at the expense of, I before my illness, I had often been in the habit of
believe, not more than four rupees! Surely if doing.' He is glad to see you again,' observed the
good-will is to be bought by these sort of attentions, goomashta, and 1 certainly was much struck by the
it is a pity that any body should neglect them."-   calm, clear, attentive, intelligent eye which he fixed
" In crossing a nuddee, which from a ford had on me, both while he was eating, and afterwards
become a ferry, we saw some characteristic groups while I was patting his trunk and talking about him,




BISHOP HEBER'S INDIA.                                    671
He was, he said, a fine-tempered beast, but the two castes, and to inculcate a signal toleration
others were'great rascals.' One of them had once We can now afford, however, to give little
almost killed his keeper. I have got these poor more thai the introductory narrative.
beasts' allowance increased, in consideration of their more than the introductory narrative.
long march; and that they may not be wronged,   "About eleven o'clock I had the expected visit
have ordered the mohout to give them all their gram  from Swaamee Narain, to my interview with whom
in presence of a sentry. The gram is made up in I had looked forward with an anxiety and eagerness
cakes, about as large as the top of a hat-box, and  which, if he had known it, would perhaps have
baked on an earthen pot. Each contains a seer, flattered him. He came in a somewhat different
and sixteen of them are considered as Sufficient for style from what I expected; having with him nea ly
one day's food for an elephant on a march. The two hundred horsemen, mostly well-armed with
suwarree elephant had only twelve, but I ordered  matchlocks and swords, and several of them with
him the full allowance, as well as an increase to the coats of mail and spears. Besides them he had a
others. If they knew this, they would indeed be large rabble on foot, with bows and arrows; and
glad to see me."                               when I considered that I had myself more than fifty
"The morning was positively cold, and the whole horse, and fifty muskets and bayonets, I could not
scene, with the exercise of the march, the pictur- help smiling, though my sensations were in some
esque groups of men and animals round me,-the  degree painful and humiliating, at the idea of two
bracing air, the singing of birds, the light mist hang- religious teachers meeting at the head of little
ing on the trees, and the glistening dew, had some- armies! and filling the city, which was the scene
thing at once so'Oriental and so English, I have of their interview, with the rattling of quivers, the
seldom  found any thing better adapted to raise a clash of shields, and the tramp of the war-horse.
man's animal spirits, and put him in good temper Had our troops been opposed to each other, mine,
with himself and all the world. How I wish those though less numerous, would have been doubtless
I love were with me! How much my wife would  far more effective, from the superiority of arms and
enjoy this sort of life,-its exercise, its cleanliness, discipline. But, in moral grandeur, what a differand purity; its constant occupation, and at the same ence was there between his troop and mine! Mine
time its comparative freedom from form, care, and  neither knew me nor cared for me. They escorted
vexation! Ait the same time a man who is curious me faithfully, and would have defended me bravely,
in his eating had better not come here. Lamb and because they were ordered by their superiors to do
kid (and we get no other flesh) most people would  so; and as they would have done for any other
soon tire of. The only fowls which are attainable stranger of sufficient worldly rank to make such
are as tough and lean as can be desired; and the attendance usual. The guards of Swaamee Narain
milk and butter are generally seasoned with the were his own disciples and enthusiastic admirers;
never-failing condiments of Hindostan-smoke and  men who had voluntarily repaired to hear his lessoot. These, however, are matters to which it is sons, who now took a pride in doing him honour,
not difficult to become reconciled; and all the more and who would cheerfully fight to the last drop of
serious points of warmth, shade, cleanliness, air, blood rather than suffer a fringe of his garment to
and water, are at this season nowhere enjoyed better be handled roughly. In the parish of Hodnet there
than in the spacious and well-contrived tents, the  were once perhaps a few honest countrymen who
ample means of transport, the fine climate, and  felt something like this for me; but how long a time
fertile regions of Northern Hindostan. Another must elapse before any Christian teacher in India
time, by God's blessing, I will not be alone in this can hope to be thus loved and honoured!
Eden; yet I confess that there are few people whom    " After the usual mutual compliments, I said that
I greatly wish to have as associates in such a jour-  I had heard much good of him, and the good doc-.
ney. It is only a wife, or a friend so intimate as to trine which he preached among the poor people of
be quite another self; whom one is really anxious to Guzerat, and that I greatly desired his acquaintbe with one while travelling through a new country."  ance; that I regretted that I knew Hindostanee so
imperfectly, bul that I should be very glad, so far
Instead of wishing, as we should have ex- as my knowledge of the language allowed, and by
pected a Bishop to do, to move in the digni- the interpretation of friends, to learn what he befiled and conspicuous circle at the seat of  lieved on religious matters, and to tell him what I
Government, it is interesting to find this ex- myself believed; and that if he would come and see
emplary person actually languishing for a  me at Kairah, where we should have more leisure,
mopry petirso an curetuall y tlanguishiong  or I would have a tent pitched for him and treat him
more retired and obscure situation.            like a brother. I said this, because I was very
" Do you know, dearest, that I sometimes think  earnestly desirous of getting him a copy of the
we should be more useful, and happier, if Cawn- Scriptures, of which I had none with me, in the
poor or Benares, not Calcutta, were our home?-  Nagree character, and persuading him  to read
My visitations would be made with far more con- them; and because I had some further hopes of
venience, the expense of house rent would be less inducing him to go with me to Bombay, where I
to the Company, and our own expenses of living  hoped that, by conciliatory treatment, and the
would be reduced very considerably. The air, even  conversations to which I might introduce him with
of Cawnpoor, is, I apprehend, better than that of the Church Missionary Society established in that
Bengal, and that of Benares decidedly so. The  neighbourhood, I might do him more good than I
greater part of my business with government may  could otherwise hope.
be done as well by letters as personal interviews;   "I saw that both he, and, still more, his disciples,
and, if the Archdeacon of Calcutta were resident were highly pleased by the invitation which I gave
there, it seems more natural that the Bishop of him; but he said, in reply, that his life was onre of
India should remain in the centre of his diocese.-  very little leisure; that he had five thousand disciples
Tne only objection is the great number of Christians now attending on his preaching in the neighbouring
in Calcutta, and the consequent probability that my villages, and nearly fifty thousand in different parts
preaching is more useful there than it would be any of Guzerat; that a great number of these were to
where else. We may talk these points over whtn  assemble together in the course of next week, on
we  meet."                                     occasion of his brother's son coming of age to receive the Brahminical string; but that if I staid
One of the most characteristic passages in  long enough in the neighbourhood to allow him to
the book, is the account of his interview with  get this engagement over, he would gladly come. learned and very liberal Brahmin in Guzerit, again to see me.' In the meantime,' I said,' have
whom he  uandverystood to t      eah a far purer mo- you any objection to communicate some part of
whom  he understood  to teach a far purer me- your doctrine now?'  It was evidently what he
rality than is usually enjoined by his brethren  came to do; and his disciples very visibly exuited
and also to discountenance the distinction of I in the opportunity of his perhaps converting me."




672                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
The conference is too long to extract, but am only anxious to serve. In my dear Emily yc*u
it is very curious; though the result fell some- will already have had a most affectionate and sell
thing short of what the worthy Bishop, in the  sible counsellor."
zeal of his benevolence, had anticipated.-        We dare not venture on any part, either of
We should now leave the subject of the au- the descriptions of scenery and antiquities, or
thor's personal character; but it shines out so of the persons and presentations at the several
strongly in the account of the sudden death  native courts.  But we have no hesitation in
of one of his English friends and fellow-tra- recommending them  as by far the best and
vellers, that we cannot refrain from gratifying  most interesting, in both sorts, that we have
our readers and ourselves with one other ex- ever met with.  The account of his journeytract.  Mr. Stowe, the individual alluded to, ings and adventures in the mountain region at
died rafter a short illness at Dacca.  The day  the foot of the Himalaya is peculiarly striking,
after his burial, the Bishop writes to his wife from the affecting resemblance the author is
as follows:-                                   continually tracing to the scenery of his beloved England, his more beloved Wales, or
" Sincerely as I have mourned, and do mourn his most beloved Hodnet    Of the natives
him  continually, the moment perhaps at which I
felt his'loss most keenly was on my return to this in all their orders, he is a most indulgent and
house. I had always after airings, or other short liberal judge, as well as a very exact observer.
absences, been accustomed to run up immediately He estimates their civilisation higher, we
to his room to ask about his medicines and his think, than any other traveller who has given
nourishment, to find if he had wanted any thing anaccount of them, and is very much struck
during my absence, and to tell him what I had seen   he magnificen
and heard. And now, as I went up stairs, I felt with the magnificence  of their architecture —
most painfully that the object of my solicitude was though very sceptical as to the high antiquity
gone, and that there was nobody now to derive to which some of its finest specimens pretend.
comfort or help from my coming, or whose eyes We cannot afford to give any of the splendid
would faintly sparkle as I opened the door.    and luminous descriptions in which the work
" It will be-long before I forget the guilelessness abounds.  In a private letter he says,of his nature, the interest which he felt and expressed in all the beautiful and sequestered scenery   I had heard much of the airy and gaudy style
which we passed through; his anxiety to be useful of Oriental architecture; a notion, I apprehend,
to me in any way which I could point out to him, taken from that of China only, since solidity, solem(he was indeed very useful,) and above all, the un- nity, and a richness of ornament, so well managed
affected pleasure which he took in discussing reli- as not to interfere with solemnity, are the characgious subjects; his diligence in studying the Bible, teristics of all the ancient buildings which I have
and the fearless humanity with which he examined  met with in this country. I recollect no correspondthe case, and administered to the wants, of nine ing parts of Windsor at all equal to the entrance
poor Hindoos, the crew of a salt-barge, whom, as of the castle of Delhi and its marble hall of auI mentioned in my Journal, we found lying sick  dience; and even Delhi falls very short of Agra ill
together of a jungle fever, unable to leave the place situation, in majesty of outline, in size, and the
where they lay, and unaided by the neighbouring  costliness and beauty of its apartments."
villagers. I then little thought how soon he in his
turn would require the aid he gave so cheerfully."  The following is a summary of his opinion
On the day after, he writes in these terms of the people, which follows in the same letter
to Miss Stoowe,  the sister of his departed    " Of the people, so far as their natural character
friendss Stowe, the sister of his departed: is concerned, I have been led to form, on the whole,
0                a very favourable opinion. They have, unhappily,
"With a heavy heart, my dear Miss Stowe, I many of the vices arising from slavery, firm an unsend you the enclosed keys. How to offer you  settled state of society, and immoral and erroneous
consolation in your present grief, I know not; for systems of religion. But they are men of high and
by my own deep sense of the loss of an excellent gallant courage, courteous, intelligent, and most
friend, I know how much heavier must be your eager after knowledge and improvement, with a reburden. Separation of one kind or another is, in- markable aptitude for the abstract sciences, geomedeed, one of the most frequent trials to which try, astronomy, &c., and for the imitative arts,
affectionate hearts are exposed. And if you can painting and sculpture.  They are sober, indusonly regard your brother as removed for his own  trious, dutiful to their parents, and affectionate to
advantage to a distant country, you will find, per- their children, of tempers almost uniformly gentle
haps, some of that misery alleviated under which  and patient, and more easily affected by kindness
you are now suffering. Had you remained in Eng- and attention to their wants and feelings than almost
land when he came out hither, you would have any men whom I have met with. Their faults
been, for a time, divided no less effectually than seem to arise from the hateful superstitions to which
you are now. The difference of hearing from him  they are subject, and the unfavourable state of
is almost all; and though you now have not that society in which they are placed.
comfort, yet even without hearing from him you    " More has been done, and more successfully, to
may be well persuaded (which there you could not obviate these evils in the Presidency of Bombay,'
always have been) that he is well and happy; and, than in any part of India which I have yet visited,
above all, you may be persuaded, as your dear bro- through the wise and liberal policy of Mr. Elphinther was most fully in his time of severest suffering, stone; to whom this side of the Peninsula is also
that God never smites his children in vain, or out indebted for some very important and efficient imof cruelty.                                    provements in the administration of justice, and
"So long as you choose to remain with us, we  who, both in amiable temper and manners, extenwill be, to our power, a sister and a brother to you. sive and various information, acute good sense,
And it may be worth your consideration whether, energy, and application to business, is one of the
hi your present state of health and spirits, a jour- most extraordinary men, as he is quite the most
ney, in my wife's society, will not be better for you popular governor, that I have fallen in with."
than a dreary voyage home. But this is a point
on which you must decide for yourself; I would    The following is also very important; and
scarcely venture to advise, far less dictate, where I gives more new  and valuable information




BISHOP HEBER'S INDIA.                                     673
Ohan many pretencing volumes, by men who  sent to the pictures of depravity and general worthnave been half their lives in the countries to  lessness which some have drawn of the Hindoos
which they relate: —                     -      They are decidedly, by nature, a mild, pleasing,
and intelligent race; sober, parsimonious, and,
" Of the people of this country, and the manner where an object is held out to them, most indusin which they are governed, I have, as yet, hardly  trious and persevering. But the magistrates and
seen enough to form an opinion.  I have seen  lawyers all agree that in no country are lying and
enough, however, to find that the customs, the perjury so common, and so little regarded; and
habits, and prejudices of the former are much mis- notwithstanding the apparent mildness of their manunderstood in England. We have all heard, for ners, the criminal calendar is generally as full as in
instance, of the humanity of the Hindoos towards Ireland, with gang-robberies, setting fire to buildbrute creatures, their horror of animal food, &c.; ings, stacks, &c.; and the number of children who
and you may be, perhaps, as much surprised as I are decoyed aside and murdered, for the sake of.was, to find that those who can afford it are hardly  their ornaments, Lord Amherst assures me, is
less carnivorous than ourselves; that even the dreadful."
purest Brahmins are allowed to eat mutton and
venison; that fish is permitted to many castes, and    We may add the following direct testimony
pork to many others; and that, though they con- on a point of some little curiosity, which has
sider it a grievous crime to kill a cow or bullock  been alternately denied and exaggerated:for the purpose of eating, yet they treat their draft
oxen, no less than their horses, with a degree of   "At Broach is one of those remarkable institubarbarous severity which would turn an English tions which have made a good deal of noise in Euhackney coachman sick. Nor have their religious rope, as instances of Hindoo benevolence to inferior
prejudices, and the unchangeableness oftheir habits, animals.  I mean hospitals for sick and infirm
been less exaggerated. Some of the best informed  beasts, birds, and insects. I was not able to visit
it; but Mr. Corsellis described it as a very dirty
of their nation, with whom I have conversed,' assure it; but Mr. Corsellis described it as a very dirty
me that half their most remarkable customs of civil and neglected place, which, though it has considerand domestic life are borrowed from their Mahom- able endowments in land, only serves to enrich
medan conquerors; and at present there is an ob- the Brahmins who manage it. They have really
vious and increasing disposition to imitate the Eng- animals of several different kinds there, not only
ksh in every thing, which has already led to very  those which are accounted sacred by the Hindoos,
remarkable changes, and will, probably, to still as monkeys, peacocks, &c., but horses, dogs, and
riore important.  The wealthy natives now all cats; and they have also, in little boxes, an assortaiect to have their houses decorated with Corin- ment of lice and fleas! It is not true, however,
thian pillars, and filled with English furniture. They that they feed those pensioners on the flesh of begdrive the best horses and the most dashing carriages gars hired for the purpose. The Brahmins say that
in Cal;cutta. Many of them speak English fluently, these insects, as well as the other inmates of their
and are tolerably read in English literature; and infirmary, are fed with vegetables only, such as
the children of one of our friends I saw one day rice, &c. How the insects thrive, I did not hear;
dressed in jackets and trousers, with round hats,  but the old horses and     the peacocks and
ehses and stockings. In the Bengalee newspapers,  apes, are allowed to starve; and the only creatures
of which there are two or three, politics are can- said to be in any tolerable plight are some muich
vassed, with a bias, as I am told, inclining to N/hig- cows, which may be kept from other motives than
gism; and one of their leading men gave a great charity."
dinner not long since in honour of the Spanish Revo-   He adds afterward
tution. Among the lower orders the same feeling
shows itself' more beneficially, itl a growing neg-    "I have notbeen led to believe that our Governlect of caste-in not merely a willingness, but an  ment is generally popular, or advancing towards
anxiety, to send their children to our schools, and  popularity. It is, perhaps, impossible that we should
a desire to learn and speak English, which, if be so in any great degree; yet I really think there
properly encouraged, might, I verily believe, in  are some causes of discontent which it is in our
fifty years' time, make ooir language what the  own power, and which it is our duty to remove or
Oordoo, or court and camp language of the country  diminish. One of these is the distance and haugh(the Hindostanee), is at present. And though in- tiness with which a very large proportion of the
stances of actual conversion to Christianity are, as civil and military servants of the  ompany treat
yet, very uncommon, yet the number of children, the upper and middling class of natives. AgainsI
both male and female, who are now receiving a sort their mixing much with us in society, there are cerof Christian education, reading the New Testa- tainly many hindrances; though even their objec
ment, repeating the Lord's Prayer and Command- tion to eating with us might, so far as the Mussul
ments, and all with the consent, or at least without mans are concerned, I think, be conquered by any
the censure, of their parents or spiritual guides, popular man in the upper provinces, wiho made the
have increased, during the last two years, to an attempt in a right way. But there are some of our
amount which astonishes the old European resi- amusements, such as private theatrical entertain.
dents, who wete used to tremble at the name of a ments and the sports of the field, in which the,
Missionary, and shrink from the common duties of would be delighted to share, and invitations to which
Christianity, lest they should give offence to their would be regarded by them as extremely flattering,
heathen neighbours. So far from that being a con- if they were not, perhaps with some reason, voted
sequence of the zeal which has been lately shown, bores, and treated accordingly. The French, under
many of the Brahmins themselves express admira. Perron and Des Boignes, who in more serious mattion of the morality of the Gospel, and profess to  ters left a very bad name behind them, had, in this.
entertain a better opinion of the English since they  particular, a great advantage over us; and the easy
have found that they too have a religion and a Shas- and friendly intercourse in which they lived with
ter. All that seems'necessary for the best effects natives of rank, is still often regretted in Agra and
to follow is, to let things take their course; to make the Dooab. This is not all, however. The foolish
the Missionaries discreet; to keep the government pride of the English absolutely leads them to set at
as it now is, strictly neuter; and to place our confi- nought the injunctions of their own Government.
dence in a general diffusion of knowledge, and in  The Tussildars, for instance, or principal active
making ourselves really useful to the temporal as officers of revenue, ought, by an order of council,
well as spiritual interests of the people among whom  to have chairs always offered them in the presence
we live.                                        of their European superiors; and the same, by the
" In all these points there is, indeed, great room  standing orders of the army, should be done to the
for improvement: But I do not by any means as- Soubahdars. Yet there are hardly six collectors in
48




674                             MISCELLANEOUS.
India who observe the former etiquette: and the tion of Justice; especially in the local or dis.
latter, which was fifteen years ago never omitted trict courts, called Adawlut, which the costli.
in the army, is now completely in disuse. At the ness and intricacy of the proceedings, and the
same time, the regulations of which I speak are  andicroceedings, and the
known to every Tussildar and Soubahdar in India, needless introduction of the Persian laguage,
and they feel themselves aggrieved every time have made sources of great practical oppres.
these civilities are neglected.'          sion, and objects of general execration through.
out the country. At the Bombay Presidency
Of the state of the Schools, and of Education Mr. Elphinstone has discarded the Persian,
in general, he speaks rather favourably; and and appointed every thing to be done in the
is very desirous that, without any direct at- ordinary language of the place.
tempt at conversion, the youth should be ge-   And here we are afraid we must take leave
nerally exposed to the humanising influence of this most instructive and delightful publiof the New Testament morality, by the gene- cation; which we confidently recommend to
ral introduction of that holy book, as a lesson our readers, not only as more likely to amuse
book in the schools; a matter to which he them than any book of travels with which we
states positively that the natives, and even are acquainted, but as calculated to enlighten
their Brahminical pastors, have no sort of ob- their understandings, and to touch their hearts
jection. Talking of a female school, lately with a purer flame than they generally catch
established at Calcutta, under the charge of a from most professed works of philosophy or
very pious and discreet lady, he observes, that devotion. It sets before us, in every page,
"Rhadacant Deb, one of the wealthiest natives the most engaging example of devotion to
in Calcutta, and regarded as the most austere God and good-will to man; and, touching every
and orthodox of the worshippers of the Ganges, object with the light of a clear judgment and
bade, some time since, her pupils go on and a pure heart, exhibits the rare spectacle of a
prosper; and added, that I if they practised work written by a priest upon religious creeds
the Sermon on the Mount as well as they re- and establishments, without a shade of inpeated it, he would choose all the handmaids tolerance; and bringing under review  the
for his daughters, and his wives, from the characters of a vast multitude of eminent inEnglish school."'                         dividuals, without one trait either of sarcasm
He is far less satisfied with the administra- or adulation.
(~ctobtr,!21i. )
1. Sketches oJ India. Written by an OFFICER, for Fire-Side Travellers at Home. Second
Edition, with Alterations. 8vo. pp. 358. London: 1824.
2. Scenes and Impressions in Egypt and Italy. By the Author of Sketches of India, and
Recollections of the Peninsula. 8vo. pp. 452. London: 1824.
THESE are very amiable books: —and, be- them, will be more generally agreeable than
sides the good sentiments they contain, they a digest of the information they might have
are very pleasing specimens of a sort of travel- acquired. We would by no means undervalue
writing, to which we have often regretted the researches of more learned and laborious
that so few of those who roam loose about the persons, especially in countries rarely visited:
world will now condescend —we mean a brief But, for common readers, their discussions
and simple notice of what a person of ordinary require too much previous knowledge, and
information and common sensibility may see too painful an effort of attention. They are
and feel in passing through a new country, not books of travels in short, but works of
which he visits without any learned prepara- science and philosophy; and as the principal
tior., 3ad traverses without any particular ob- delight of travelling consists in the impressions
jeet. There are individuals, no doubt, who which we receive, almost passively, from the
travel to better purpose, and collect more presentment of new objects, and the reflecweighty information-exploring, and record- tions to which they spontaneously give rise
ing as they go, according to their several so the most delightful books of travels should
habits and measures of learning, the mineral- be those that give us back those impressions
og) antiquities, or statistics of the different in their first freshness and simplicity, and exregi.ns they survey. But the greater part, cite us to follow out the train of feelings and
even of intelligent wanderers, are neither so reflection into which they lead us, by the diambitious in their designs, nor so industrious rect and unpretending manner in which they
in their execution;-and, as most of those are suggested. By aiming too ambitiously at
who travel for pleasure, and find pleasure in instruction and research, this charm is lost,
travelling, are found to decline those tasks, and we often close these copious dissertations
which might enrol them among the contribu- and details, needlessly digested in the form
tors to science, while they turned all their of a journal, without having the least idea
movements into occasions of laborious study, how we, or any other ordinary person, would
it seems reasonable to think that a lively and have felt as companions of the journey-thosuccinct account of what actually delighted roughly convinced, certainly, that we should




SKETCHES OF INDIA-EGYPT AND ITALY.                                  675
not have occupied ourselves as the writers    " The "Sketches of India," a loose-printed
before us seem  to have been occupied; and  octavo of 350 pages, is the least interesting
pretty well satisfied, after all, that they them- perhaps of the two volumes now before usselves were not so occupied during the most though sufficiently marked with all that is
agreeable hours of their wanderings, and had  characteristic of the author.  It may be as
omitted in their books what they would most well to let him begin at the beginning.
frequently recall in their moments of enjoy-       On the afternoon of July the 10th, 1818, our
ment and leisure.                              vessel dropped anchor in Madras Roads, after a fine
Nor are these records of superficial obser- run of three months and ten days from the Mother.
vation to be disdained as productive of enter- bank.-How  changed the scene! how great the
tainment only, or altogether barren of instruc- contrast!-Ryde, and its little snug dwellings, with
tion.  Very often the surface presents all that slated or thatched roofs, its neat gardens, its green
and sloping shores. -Madras and its naked fort,
is really worth considering-or all that we are  noble-looking buildings, tall columns, lofty verancapable of understanding;-and our observer, dahs, and terraced roofs.  The city, large and
we are taking it for granted, is, though no  crowded, on a flat site; a low sandy beach, and a
great philosopher, an intelligent and educated  foaming surf.  The roadstead, there, alive with
man —looking curiously at all that presents beautiful yachts, light wherries, and tight-built
fishing barks. Here, black, shapeless Massoolah
itself. and makihg psuc   passing inquiries as boats, with their naked crews, singing the same
may satisfy a reasonable curiosity, without wild (yet not unpleasing) air, to which, for ages,
greatly disturbing his indolence or delaying  the dangerous surf they fearlessly ply over has been
his progress. Many themes of reflection and  rudely responsive.'  I shall never forget the sweet and strange sentopics of interest will be thus suggested, which   sI  shall never forget the sweet and strange sen
more elaborate and exhausting discussions sations which, as I went peacefully forward, the new
t birth-whileinobjects in nature excited in my bosom. The rich
would have strangled in the birth —while, in broad-leaved plantain; the gracefully drooping
the variety and brevity of the notices which  bamboo; the cocoa nut, with that mat-like-looking
such a scheme of writing implies, the mind  binding for every branch; the branches themselves
of the reader is not only more agreeably ex- waving with a feathery motion in the wind; the
cited, but is furnished, in the long run, with bare lofty trunk and fan-leaf of the tall palm; the
more materials for thinking and solicited to slender and elegant stem of the areca; the large
aloes; the prickly pear; the stately banian with
more lively reflections, than by any quantity  drop-branches, here fibrous and pliant, there strong
of exact knowledge on plants, stones, ruins, and columnar, supporting its giant arms, and formmanufactures, or history.                      ing around the parent stem a grove of beauty; and
Such, at all events, is the merit and the among these wonders,birds, all strangein plumage
charm of the volumes before us. They place  and in note, save the parroquet (at home, the lady's
us at once by the side of the author-and  pet-bird in a gilded cage), here spreading his bright
green wings in happy fearless flight, and giving his
bring before our eyes and minds the scenes natural and untaught scream.
he has passed through, and the feelings they    " It was late and dark when we reached Poona.
suggested. In this last particular, indeed, we mallee; and during the latter part of our march we
are entirely at his mercy; and we are afraid  had heavy rain. We found no fellow-countryman
he sometimes makes rather an unmerciful to welcome us: But the mess-room was open and
lighted, a table laid, and a crowd of smart, roguishuse of his power.  It is one of the hazards looking natives, seemed waiting our arrival to seek
of this way of writing, that it binds us up in  service.-Drenched to the skin, without changes of
the strictest intimacy and closest companion- linen, or any bedding, we sat down to the repast
ship with the author.  Its attraction is in its provided; and it would have been difficult to have
direct personal sympathy-and its danger in  found in India, perhaps, at the moment, a more
the temptation it holds out to abuse it.  It cheerful party than ours.-Four or five clean-look.
the temptation it holds out to abuse it. It ing natives, in white dresses, with red or white
enables us to share the grand spectacles with  turbans, ear-rings of gold, or with emerald drops,
which the traveller is delighted-but compels and large silver signet rings on their fingers, crowded
us in a manner to share also in the sentiments round each chair, and watched our every glance, to
with which he is pleased to connect them. anticipate our wishes.  Curries, vegetables, and
For the privilege iof seeing  with his eyes we fruits, all new to us, were tasted and pronounced
generally renounce that of using our w   upon; and after a meal, of which every one seemed
must generally renounce that of using our to partake with grateful good humour, we lay down
own judgment - and submit to adopt im- for the night. One attendant brought a small carpet,
plicitly the tone of feeling which he has found  another a mat, others again a sheet or counterpane,
most congenial with the scene.                 till all were provided with something; and thus
On the present occasion, we must say, the  closed our first evening in India. -The morning
reader, on the r whole,  has  been fortunate. scene was very ludicrous. Here, a barber uncallea
reader, on,the  whole, has been fortunate, for, was shaving a man as he still lay dozing! there,
The author, though an officer in the King's another was cracking the joints of a man half
service, and not without professional predi- dressed; here were two servants, one pouring water
lections, is, generally speaking, a speculative, on, the other washing, a Saheb's hands. In spite
sentimental, saintly sort of person-with a  of my efforts to prevent them, two well-dressed
taste f6r the picturesque, a singularly poeti- men were washing my feet; and near me was a
cal cast of diction and a mind deeply imbued  lad dexterously putting on the clothes of a sleepj
cal cast of diction, and a mind deeply imbued  brother officer, as if he had been an infant under
with principles of philanthropy and habits of his care!-There was much in all this to amuse
affection:-And if there is something of fa- the mind, and a great deal, I confess, to pain the
daise now  and then in his sentiments, and  heart of a free-born Englishman."
something of affectation in his style, it is no                  Sketches of India, pp. 3-10.
more than we can easily forgive, in con-    With all this profusion of attendance, the
xideration of his brevity, his amiableness, and  march of a British officer in India seems a
variety.                                       matter rather of luxury than fatigue.




676                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
" Marching in this country is certainly pleasant; general's tents from the Deccan, wc-ce in th, act
although perhaps you rise too early for comfort. of loading. The intelligent obedience of tne:leAn hour before daybreak you mount your horse; phant is well known; but to look upon this huge
and, travelling at an easy pace, reach your ground  and powerful monster kneeling down at the mere
before the sun has any power; and find a small bidding of the human voice; and, when he has
tent pitched with breakfast ready on the table.-  risen again, to see him protrude his trunk for the
Your large tent follows with couch and baggage, foot of his mahout or attendant, to help him into
carried by bullocks and coolies; and before nine his seat; or, bending the joint of his hind leg,
o'clock, you may be washed, dressed, and em- make a step for him to climb up behind; and then,
ployed with your books, pen, or pencil.  Mats, if any loose cloths or cords fall off, with a dog-like
made of the fragrant roots of the Cuscus grass, are docility pick them up with his proboscis and put
hung before the doors of your tent to windward; them up again, will delight and surprise long after
and being constant wetted, admit, during the hottest it ceases to be novel. When loaded, this creature
winds, a cool refreshing air.                  broke off a large branch from the lofty tree near
" While our forefathers were clad in wolf-skin, which he stood, and quietly fanned and fly-flapped
dwelt in caverns, and lived upon the produce of himself, with all the nonchalance of an indolent
the chase, the Hindoo lived as now. As now, his woman of fashion, till the camels were ready.
princes were clothed in soft raiment, wore jewelled  These animals also kneel to be laden. When in
turbans, and dwelt in palaces. As now, his haughty  motion, they have a very awkward gait, and seem
half-naked priests received his offerings in temples to travel at a much slower pace than they really
of hewn and sculptured granite, and summoned him  do. Their tall out-stretched necks, long sinewy
to rites as absurd, but yet more splendid and de- limbs, and broad spongy feet,-their head furnibauching, than thepresent. His cottage, garments, ture, neck-bells, and the rings in their nostrils,
household utensils, and implements of husbandry  with their lofty loads, and a driver generally on the
or labour, the same as now. Then, too, he wa- top of the leading one, have a strange appearance."
tered the ground with his foot, by means of a plank                         Ibid. pp. 46-48.
balanced transversely on a lofty pole, or drew from
the deep bowerie by the labour of his oxen, in large    We must add the following very clear desbags of leather, supplies of water to flow through  cription of a Pagoda.
the little channels by which their fields and gardens
are intersected. His children were then taught to  A high, solid wall, encloses a large area in the
shape l'etters in the sand, and to write and keep form of an oblong square; at one end is the gateaccoants on the dried leaves of the palm, by the  way, above which is raised a large pyramidal tower;
village schoolmaster. His wife ground corn at the its breadth at the base and height proportioned to
same mill, or pounded it in a rude mortar with her the  magnitude of the pagoda.  This tower is asneighbour. He could make purchases in a regular cended by steps in the inside, and divided into
bazaar, change money at a shroff's, or borrow it stories; the central spaces on each are open, and
at usury, for the expenses of a wedding or festival, smaller as the tower rises. The light is seen dismaller as the tower rises.  The light is seen diat usury, for the expenses of a wedding or festival. ectly through   them, producing, at times, a very
In short, all the traveller sees around him of social re
or civilized life, of useful invention or luxurious beautiful effect, as when a fine sky, or trees, form
refinement, is of yet higher antiquity than the days   eback ground. The front, sides, and top of this
of Alexander the Great. So that, in fact, the eye gateway and tower, are crowded with sculpture;
of the British officer looks upon the same forms and elaborate, but tasteless.  A few yards from the
dresses, the same buildings, manners, and customs, gate, on the outside, you often see a lofty octagonal
on which the Macedonian troops gazed with the  stone pillar, or a square open building, supported
same astonishment two thousand years ago."     by tall columns of stone, with the figure of a bull
Sketches of lIndia, pp. 23-26.   couchant, sculptured as large, or much larger tha4
life, beneath it.
If the traveller proceeds in a palanquin, his   " Entering the gateway, you pass into a spacious
comforts are not less amply provided for.      paved court, in the centre of which stands the inner
temple, raised about three feet from the ground,
" You Generally set off after dark; and, habited  open, and supported by numerous stone pillars. An
in loose drawers and a dressing gown, recline at enclosed sanctuary at the far end of this central
full length and slumber away the night. If you building, contains the idol. Round the whole court
are wakeful, you may draw back the sliding panel runs a  targedeep verandah, also supported by colof a lamp fixed behind, and read. Your clothes umns  of stone, the   front rows of which are often
are packed in large neat baskets, covered with
are packed in large neat baskets, covered with shaped by the sculptor into various sacred animals
green oil-cloth, and carried by palanquin boys; two rampant, rode by their respective deities. All the
pairs will contain two dozen complete changes. other parts of the pagoda, walls, basements, entabYour   palanquin is fitted up with  pockets and latures, are covered with imagery and ornament of
drawers. You can carry in it, without trouble, a all sizes, in alto or demi-relievo."
writing desk and two or three books, with a few    The following description and reflections
canteen conveniences for your meals,-and thus
you may be comfortably provided for many hundred among the ruins of Bijanagur, the last capitai
miles' travelling. You stop for half an hour, morn- of the last Hindu empire, and finally overing and evening, under the shade of a tree, to wash thrown in 1564, are characteristic of the auand take refreshment; throughout the day read, thorns most ambitious, perhaps most questionthink, or gaze round you. The relays of bearers able, manner.
lie ready every ten or twelve miles; and the average of your run is about four miles an hour."    " You cross the garden, where imprisoned beauty
Ibid. pp. 218, 219.   once strayed. You look at the elephant-stable and
We cannot make room for his descriptions, the remaining gateway, with a mind busied in conthough excellent, of the villages, the tanks, juring up some assoclations of luxury and magnifithongh excellent, of the  villagdr esses  and  deportment cence.-Sorrowfully I passed on. Every stone bethe forest~-and the dresses and deportment neath my feet bore the mark of chisel, or of human
of the different classes of the people; but we skill and labour. You tread continually on steps,
must give this little sketch of the Elephant pavement, pillar, capital, or cornice of rude relief,
and Camel.                                     displaced, or fallen, and mingled in confusion. Here,
large masses of such materials have already formed
"While breakfast was getting ready, I amused bush-covered rocks,-there, pagodas are still standmyself with looking at a baggage-elephant and a ing entire. You may for miles trace the city walls,
Few camels, which some servants, returning with a and can often discover, by the fallen pillars of the




SKETCHES OF INDIA-EGYPT AND ITALY.                                   677
oeng piazza, wn.ere:t has been adorned by streets officer, and without public character of any.:f uncommon width.   One, indeed, yet remains kind, it is admirable to see with what uniform..early perfect; at one end of it a few poor ryots, respect and attention he was treated even by
who contrive to cultivate some patches of rice, cotton, or sugar-cane, in detached spots near the river, the lawless soldiery among whom he had frehave formed mud-dwellings under the piazza.     quently to pass. The indolent and mercenary
" While, with a mind thus occupied, you pass on Brahmins seem the only class of persons from
through this wilderness, the desolating judgments whom  he experienced any sort of incivility.
on other renowned cities, so solemnly foretold, so In an early part of his route he had the good
dreadfully fulfilled, rise naturally to your recollec- luck to fall in with Scindiah himself; and the
tion. I climbed the very loftiest rock at day-break, luck  to fall    in wi th Sci ndiah hims elf; and the
on the morrow of my first visit to the ruins, by rude picture he has given of that turbulent leader
and broken steps, winding between and over im- and his suite is worth preserving.
mense and detached masses of stone; and seated      First came loose light-armed horse, either in
myself near a small pagoda, at the very summit. the road, or scrambling and leaping on the rude
From hence I commanded the whole extent of what     road, or scrambling and leaping on the rude
wats once a city, described by wesal  Frederinck as banks and ravines near; then some better clad, with
w oe  cmiltdescr in circu orece. NF t  above  the quilted poshauk; and one in a complete suit of
twenty-bfour miles in circumference.   Not above
eight or.nine pagodas are stranding: but there are    in-armour; then a few elephants, among them
choultries innumerable.  Fallen columns, arches, the hunting elephant of Scindiah, from which he
had dismounted. On one small elephant, guiding
piazzas, and fragments of all shapes on every side had disf,  rode  a fine  sma ll elephant, guiding
for miles.-Can there have been streets and roads it himself, rode a fine boy, a foundling protege of
in these choked-up valleys?  Has the war-horse  Scindiah, called the Jungle Rajah; then came
pranced, the palfrey ambled there? Have jewelled  slowly prancing, a host of fierce, haughty chieftains,
turbans once glittered where those dew-drops    on fine horses, showily caparisoned. They darted
sparkle on the thick-growing bamboos? Hop've the forward, and all took their proud stand behind and
sparkle on the thick-growing bamboos? Hive the round us, planting their long lances on the earth,
delicate small feet of female dancers practised their round  us, planting their  long lanes on the  earth,
graceful steps where that rugged and thorn-covered  and reining up their eager steeds to see, I suppose,
ruin bars up the patrf? Have their soft voices, and our salaam. Next, in a common native palkee, its
the Indian guitar, and the gold bells on their an- canopy crimson, and not adorned, came Scindiah
kes, ever made music in so one and sient a spothimself. He was plainly dressed, with a reddish
klThey haver made music inoter sloneights, and silent aher sounds, t turban, and a shawl over his vest, and lay reclined,
They have; but othler sights, and other sounds, smoking a small gilt or golden calean.
have also been seen and heard among these ruins. sm oking a small gilt or golde n calean,
"I looked down on the chiefs under us, and saw
-There, near that beautiful banyan-tree, whole that they eyed us most haughtily, which very much
families, at the will of' a merciless prince, have been  increased the effect they would otherwise have pro
thrown to trampling elephants, kept for a work so duced. They were armed with lance, scimitar and
savage that they learn it with reluctance, and must shield, creese and pistol; wore some shawls, some
be taught by man, W~here those cocoas save, once shield, creese and pistol; wore some shawls, some
be taught by man. Where those cocoas wave, once tissues, some plain muslin or cotton; were all much
stood a vast seraglio, filled at the expense of tears             m
wrapped in clothing; and wore, almost all, a large
and crimes; there, within that retreat of voluptu- wrapped in clothing; and wore, almost all, a large
and crimes; there, within that retreat of volup    fold of muslin, tied over the turban top, which they
ousness, have poison, or the creese, obeyed, ofte:t fasten under the chin; and which, strange as it may
anticipated, the sovereign's wish. By those green sound to those who have never seen t, looks warbanks, near which Ohe sacred waters of the Toor- like, and is a very important defence to the sides
budra flow, many aged parents have been carried of the neck.
forth and exposed to nerish by those whose infancyt  that we can have a heart-stirring sort
"How is it that we can have a heart-stirring sort
they fostered."-S7k~tcles of i~ndia.            of pleasure in gazing on brave and armed men,
The following reflections are equally just though we know them to be fierce, lawless, and
and irmportant.-                                cruel?-though we know stern ambition to be the
chief feature of many warriors, who, from the cra"Nothing, perhaps, so mutch damps the ardour dle to the grave, seek only fame; and to which, in
of a traveller in India, as to find that he may wan- such as I write of, is added avarice the most pitidAr league after league, visit city after city, village  less? I cannot tell. But I recollect often before, in
te~r village, and still only see the outside of Indian  my life, being thus moved.  Once, especially, I
P  iety. The house he cannot enter, the group he stood over a gateway in France, as a prisoner, and
-".,-not join, the domestic circle he cannot gaze upon, saw file in, several squadrons of gens-d'armerie
the free unrestrained converse of the natives he can  d'elite, returning from the fatal field of Leipsic.
never listen to. He may talk with his moonshee or They were fine, noble-looking men, with warlike
his pundit; ride a few miles with a Mahometan  helmets of steel and brass, and drooping plumes of
sirdar; receive and return visits of ceremony among  black horse-hair; belts handsome and broad; heavy
petty nawabs and rajahs; or be presented at a swords; were many of them  decorated with the
native court: But behind the scenes in India he cross of the Legion of Honour.  Their trumpets
cannot advance one step. All the natives are, in flourished; and 1 felt my heart throb with an adcomparative rank, a few far above, the many far miring delight, which found relief only in an invol.
below him: and the bars to intercourse with Ma- untary tear. What an inconsistent riddle is the
hometans as well as Hindoos, arising from our faith, human heart!"-Ibid. pp. 260-264.
are so many, that to live upon terms of intimacy or
acquaintance with them is impossible. Nay, in this   In the interior of the country there are large
particular, when our establishments were young  tracts of waste lands, and a very scanty and
and small, our officers-few, necessarily active, nec- unsettled population.
essarily linguists, and unavoidably, as well as from
policy, conforming more to native manners, it is    "On the route I took, there was only one inhabprobable that more was known about the natives ited village in fifty-five miles; the spots named for
from practical experience than is at present, or may  halting-places were in small valleys, green with
be again."-Ibid. pp. 213, 214.                  young -orn, and under cultivation, but neglected
sadly. A fcw straw huts, blackened and beat down
The author first went up the country as far by rain-,aith rude and broken implements of hus
as Agra, visiting, and musing over, all the re- bandry lying about, and a few of those round harden
markable places in his way-and then return- ed thrashing-floors, tell the traveller that some waned throuah the heart of India the country of dering families, of a rude unsettled people, visit
ed through the heart of India-the country of these vales at sowing time and harvest; and laboui
Scindiah and the Deccan, to the Mysore. indolently at the necessary, but despised, task of
Though travelling only as a British regimental the peaceful ryot."-Ibid. p. q00




678                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
"I enjoyed my march through these wilds great- plete was their seclusion, that though one ot
ly. Now you wound through narrow and deeply  them died and was committed to the sea dur;.
wooded glens; now ascended ghauts, or went down the passage, the event was not known to Iht
the mouths of passes; now skirted the foot of a
mountain; now crossed a small plain covered with crew or passengers for several days after i.
the tall jungled-grass, from which, roused by your had occurred. "Not even a husband entered
horse tramp, the neelgai looked upon you; then their apartment during the voyage-because
flying with active bound, or pausing doubtful trot, the women were mixed: an eunuch who
joined the more distant herd.  You continually  cooked for them, alone had access."
cross clear sparkling rivulets, with rocky or pebbly
beds; and you hear the voice of waters among all   "Abundantly, however," he adds, "was I
the woody hills around you. There was a sort of amused in looking upon the scenes around me,
thrill, too, at knowing these jungles were filled and some there were not readily to be forgotten:with all the ferocious beasts known in India (except when, at the soft and still hour of sunset, while the
elephants, which are not found here), and at night, full sail presses down the vessel's bows on th'in hearing their wild roars and cries. I saw,, one golden ocean-path, which swells to meet, and then
morning, on the side of a hill, about five hundred  sinks beneatfr them,-then, when these Arabs
yards from me, in an open glade near the summit, group for their evening sacrifice, bow down with
a lioness pass along, and my guide said there were their faces to the earth, and prostrate their bodies
many in these jungles."-Sketches of India.     in the act of worship-when the broad amemn,
VWe should like to have added his brilliant deeply intoned from many assembled voices, strikes
upon the listener's ear-the heart responds, and
account of several native festivals, both Hindu  throbs with its own silent prayer. There is a soand Mahometan, and his admirable descrip- lemnity and a decency in their worship, belonging,
tions of the superb monuments at Agra, and  in its very forms, to the age and the country of the
the fallen grandeur of Goa: But the extracts Patriarchs; and it is necessary to call to mind all
that the Mohammedans are and have been-all that
we have now given must suffice as specimens  their prophet taught. and that their Koran enjoins
of the 1c Sketches of India"-and the length of and promises, before we can look, without being
them, indeed, we fear, will leave us less room  strongly moved, on the Mussulman prostrate before
than we could have wished for the " Scenes his God."-Ibid. pp. 13, 14.`i~d Impressions in Egypt and in Italy."         They land prosperously at Mocha, of which
he gives rather a pleasing account, and again
This volume which is rather larger than  embark with the same fine weather for Djidda
the other, contains more than the title prom- -anchoring  every night under the rocky
ises: and embraces, indeed, the whole history  shore, and generally indulging the passengers
of the author's peregrinations, from  his em- with an hour's ramble among its solitudes.
barkation at Bombay to his landing at Dover. The following poetical and graphic sketch of
It is better written, we think, than the former. the camel is the fruit of one of these excurThe descriptions are better finished, the re- sions:flections bolder, and the topics more varied.
There is more of poetical feeling, too, about   "The grazing camel, at that hour when the
it; and a more constant vein of allusion to  desert reddens with the setting sun, is a fine object
to the eye which seeks and feeds on the picturesque
subjects of interest.  He left India in Decem- -his tall, dark form-his indolent leisurely walkber 1822, in an Arab vessel for the Red Sea-  his ostrich neck, now lifted to its full height, now
and is very happy, we think, in his first bent slowly, and far around, with a look of un.
sketches of the ship and the voyage.           alarmed inquiry. You cannot gaze upon him without, by the readiest and most natural suggestions,
"Our vessel was one, rude and ancient in her reverting in thought to the world's infancy-to the
construction as those which, in former and succes- times and possessions of the shepherd kings, their
sive ages, carried the rich freights of India for the tents and raiment, their journeyings and settlings.
Ptolemies, the Roman prefects, and the Arabian  The scene, too, in the distance, and the hour, even.
caliphs of Egypt. She had, indeed, the wheel and tide, and the uncommon majesty of that dark, lofty,
the compass; and our nakhoda, with a beard as and irregular range of rocky mountain, which ends
black and long, and a solemnity as great as that of in the black cape of Ras el Askar, formed an asa magician, daily performed the miracle of taking semblage not to be forgotten." —ibid. p. 42.
an observation t But although these " peeping con-   At Djidda they had an audience of the Aga
trivances " of the Giaours have been admitted, yet
they build their craft with the same clumsy inse- which is well described in the following short
curity, and rig them in the same inconvenient man- passage:ner as ever. Our vessel had a lofty broad stern,
unmanageable in wearing; one enormous sail on a   " Rustan Aga himselfwas a fine-looking, haughty,
heavy yard of immense length, which was tardily martial man, with mustachios, but no beard; he
hoisted by the efforts of some fifty men on a stout wore a robe of scarlet cloth. Hussein Aga, who
mast, placed a little before midships, and raking  sat on his left, had a good profile, a long grizzled
forwards; her head lowwtot;          rd, with a black ribbon bound over one eye, to
and, on the poop, a mizen uselessly small, with  concealitsloss. Hewore arobeofpaleblue. The
hardly canvass enough for a fishing-boat. Our other person, Araby Jellauny, was an aged and a
lading was cotton, and the bales were piled up on very plain man. The attendants, for the most part,
her decks to a height at once awkward and unsafe. wore large dark brown dresses, fashioned into the
her decks to a oeigdlt at once awkward and unsafe.rin                                 g
In short, she looked like part of a wharf, towering short Turkish vest or Jacket, and the large, full
with bales, accidentally detached from its quay, and Turkish trowsers; their sashes were crimson, an.j
floating on the waters."-Scenes      quay, and the heavy ornamented buts of their pistols protruEgypt, pp. 3,   ded from them; their crooked scimitars hung in
He then gives a picturesque description of silken cords before them; they had white turbans,
the crew  and the motley passengers —among  large mustachios, but the cheek and chip,ieinly
whom  there were some women, who were ashaven. Their complexions were in general very
pale, as of men who pass their lives in confinement.
never seen or heard during the whole course  They stood with their arms folded, and their eyes
of the voyage.  So jealous, indeed, and eom- fixed on us. I shall never forget them. There




SKETCHES OF INDIA-EGYPT AND ITALY.                                   679
were a dozen or more. I saw nothing like this as the sun was beginning to give his rich colouring
after, not even in Egypt; for Djidda is an excellent of golden yellow to the white pale sand, that as I
government, both on account of its port, and its was walking alone at some distance far ahead of my
vicinity to Mecca; and Rustan Aga had a large companions, my eyes bent on the ground, and lost
establishment, and was something of a magnifico. in thought, their kind and directing shout made me
He has the power of life and death. A word, a stop, and raise my head, when lo! a green vale,
sign from him, and these men, who stand before looking through the soft mist of morning, rather a
you in an attitude so respectful, with an aspect so vision than a reality, lay stretched in its narrow
-calm, so pale, would smile-and slay you! —Iere  length before me.  The Land of Egypt!  We
I first saw the true scribe; well robed, and dressed  hurried panting on, and gazed and were silent. In
in turban, trowsers, and soft slipper, like one of rank  an hour we reached the village of Hejazi, situated
among the people: his inkstand with its pen-case on the very edge of the Desert. We alighted at a
has the look of a weapon, and is worn like a dagger cool, clean serai, having its inner room, with a large
in the folds of the sash; it is of silver or brass-this and small bath for the Mussulmans' ablutions, its
was of silver. When summoned to use it, he takes kiblah in the wall, and a large brimming watersome paper out of his bosom, cuts it into shape trough in front for the thirsting camel. We walked
with scissors, then writes his letter by dictation, pre- forth into the fields, saw luxuriant crops of green
sents it for approval; it is tossed back to him with bearded wheat, waving with its lights and shadows;
a haughty and careless air, and the ring drawn off  stood under the shade of trees, saw fluttering and
and and passed or thrown to him, to affix the seal. chirping birds; went down to a well and a waterHe does every thing on his knees, which are tucked  wheel, and stood, like children, listening to the
up to serve him  as a desk."-Scenes in Egypt, sound of the abundant and bright-flashing water,
pp. 47-49.                                      as it fell from the circling pots; and marked all
lThey embark a third time, for Kosseir, and  around, scattered individually or in small groups,
then proceed on camels across the Desert to  many people in the fields, oxen and asses grazing,
and camels too among them." —Ibid. pp. 80, 81.
Thebes.  The following account of their progress is excellent-at once precise, pictur-    All this, however, is inferior to his first eloesque, and poetical:-                          quent account of the gigantic ruins of Luxore,
" The road through the desert is most wonderful and the emotions to which they gave rise.
in its features: a finer cannot be imagined. It is We know nothing, indeed, better, in its way,
wide, hard, firm, winding, for at least two-thirds of than most of the following passages:the way, from Kosseir to Thebes, between ranges
of rocky hills, rising often perpendicularly on either   "Before the grand entrance of this vast edifice,
side, as if they had been scarped by art; here, again, which consists ofmany separate structures, formerly
rather broken, and overhanging, as if they were united in one harmonious design, two lofty obelisks
stand proudly pointing to the sky, fair as the daring
the lofty banks of a mighty river, and you travers-   proudly pointint o t      he sky, fai r as the daring
ing its dry and naked bed. Now you are quite sculptor left them. The sacred figures and hierolandlocked; now again you open on small valleys, glyphic characters which adorn them, are cut beautiand see, upon heights beyond, small square towers. fully into the hard granite, and have the sharp finish
It was late in the evening when we came to our of yesterday. The very stone looks not discoloured.
ground, a sort of dry bay; sand, burning sand, with  You see them, as Cambyses saw them, when he
rock and cliff, rising in jagged points, all around-a  stayed his chariot wheels to gaze at them, and the
spot where the waters of ocean might sleep in still- Persian war-cry ceased before these acknowledged
ness, or, with the soft voice of their gentlest ripple, symbols of the sacred element of fire.-Behind them
lull the storm-worn mariner. The dew of the night are two colossal figures, in part concealed by the
before had been heavy; we therefore pitched our sand; as is the bottom of a choked-up gateway, the
tent, and -decided on starting, in future, at a very  base of a massive propylon, and, indeed, their own.
early hour in the morning, so as to accomplish our -Very noble are all these remains; and on the
march before noon. It was dark when we moved  propylon is a war-scene, much spoken of; but my
off, and even cold. Your camel is impatient to rise eyes were continually attracted to the aspiring obeere you are well seated on him; gives a shake, too, lisks, and again and again you turn to look at them,
to warm his blood, and half dislodges you; marches with increasing wonder and silent admiration."rather faster than by day, and gives occasionally, a Ibid. pp. 86, 87.
hard quick stamp with his callous foot. Our moon    " With a quick-beating heart, and steps rapid as
was far in her wane. She rose, however, about an my thoughts, I strode away, took the path to the
hour after we started, all red, above the dark hills village of Karnac, skirted it, and passing over loose
on our left; yet higher rose, and paler grew, till at sand, and, among a few scattered date trees, I found
last she hung a-silvery crescent in the deep blue sky. myself in the grand alley of the sphinxes, and di"Who passes the desert and says all is barren, rectly opposite that noble gateway, which has been
all lifeless? In the grey morning you may see the called triumphal; certainly triumph never passed
common pigeon, and the partridge, and the pigeon under one more lofty, or, to my eye, of a more imof the rock, alight before your very feet, and come posing magnificence. On the bold curve of ts
upon the beaten camel-paths for food. They are beautifully projecting cornice, a globe, coloured as
tame, for they have not learned to fear, or to distrust of fire, stretches forth long over-shadowing wings
the men who pass these solitudes. The camel-driver of the very brightest azure.-t'his wondrous and
would not lift a stone to them, and the sportsman  giant portal stands well; alone, detached a little way
could hardly find it in his heart to kill these gentle from the mass of the great ruins, with no columns,
tenantsof the desert. The deer might tempt him; walls, or propyltea immediately near. I walked
I saw but one; far, very far, he caught the distant slowly up to it, through the long lines of sphinxes
camel tramp, and paused, and raised and threw  which lay couchant on either side of the broad road
back his head to listen, then away to the road in- (once paved), as they were marshalled by him who
stead of from it; but far ahead he crossed it, and planned these princely structures-we know not
then away up a long slope he fleetly stole, and off when. They are of stone less durable than granite:
to some solitary spring which wells, perhaps, where their general forms are fully preserved, but the deno traveller, no human being has ever trod."-  tail of execution is, in most of them, worn away.raid. pp. 71-74.                           -   In those forms, in that couched posture, in the de
caying, shapeless heads, the huge worn paws, tho
The emerging from this lonely route is given  little image between them, and the sacred tau grasp
with equal spirit and freshness of colouring.  ed in its crossed hands, there is something which
disturbs you with a sense of awe. In the locality
"It was soon after daybreak, on the morrow, just you cannot err; you are on a highway to a heathen




680                                  MISCELLANEOUS.
temple; one that the Roman came, as you comne, to lightens labour, twenty centuries ago? or may it
visit and admn-ire, and the Greek before him. And  not have been carried with a sigh to the tiring-men
you know that priest and king, lord and slave, the of the temple by one who brought it to swathe the
festival throng and the solitary worshipper, trod for cold and stiffened limbs of a being loved in life, and
centuries where you do: and you know that there  mourned and honoured in his death? Yes, it is a
has been tile crowding flight of the vanquished to. relic; and one musing on which a warm fancy might
wards their sanctuary and last hold, and the quick  find wherewithal to beguile a long and solitary
trampling of armed pursuers, and the neighing of the  walk."-Ibid. p.. 100, 101.
war-horse, and the voice of the trumpet, and the    " We then returned across the plain to our boat,
shout, as of a king, among them, all on this silent passing and pausing before the celebrated sitting
spot.  And you see before you, and on all sides, statues so often described. They are seated on
ruins!-the stones which formed wells and square thrones, looking to the east, and on the Nile; in
temple-towers thrown down in vast heaps; or still, this posture they are upwards of fifty feet in height;
in large masses, erect as the builder placed them, and their bodies, limbs, and heads, are large, spreadand where their material has been fine, their sur- ing, and disproportioned. These are very awful
faces and corners smooth, sharp, and uninjured by monuments. They bear the form of man; and
time. They are neither grey nor blackened; like there is a something in their very posture which
the bones of man, they seem  to whiten under the touches the soul: There they sit erect, calm:
sun of the desert. Here is no lichen, no moss, no They have seen generation upon generation swept
rank grass or mantling ivy, no wall-flower or wild away, and still their stony gaze is fixed on man toilfig-tree to robe them, and to conceal their deformi- ing and perishing at their feet!'Twas late and
ties, and bloom above them. No;-all is the na- dark ere we reached our home. The day following
kedness of desolation-the colossal skeleton of a we again crossed to the western bank, and rode
giant fabric standing in the unwatered sand, in soli — through a narrow hot valley in the Desert, to the
tude and silence."                              tombs of the kings. Your Arab catches at the head
of your ass in a wild dreary-looking spot, about five
This we think is very fine and beautiful: miles from the river, and motions you to light. On
But what follows is still better; and gives a  every side of you rise low, but steep hills, of the
clearer, as well as a deeper impression, of the  most barren appearance, covered with loose and
true character and effect of these stupendous crumbling stones, and you stand in a narrow bridleremains, than all the drawings and descrip- path, which seems to be the bottom of a natural
remains, than ll   the drawings nddescrip-ravine; you would fancy that you had lost your
tions of Denon and his Egyptian Institute.    way; but your guide leads you a few paces forward,
and you discover in the side of the hill an opening
" There are no ruins like these ruins. In the like the shaft of a mine. At the entrance, you obfirst court you pass into, you find one large, lofty, serve that the rock, which is a close-grained, but
solitary column, erect among heaped and scattered  soft stone, has been cut smooth and painted. He
fragments, which had formed a colonade of one- lights your wax torch, and you pass into a longcorand-twenty like it. You pause awhile, and then  ridor.  On either side are small apartments which
move slowly on. You enter a wide portal, and find you stoop down to enter, and the walls of which you
yourself surrounded by one hundred and fifty co- find covered with paintings: scenes of life faithfully
rumns,* on which I defy any man, sage or savage, represented; of every-day life, its pleasures and lato look unmoved. Their vast proportions the bet- bhours; the instruments of its happiness, and of its
ter taste of after days rejected and disused; but the crimes! You turn to each other with a delight,
still astonishment, the serious gaze, the thickening  not however unmixed with sadness, to mark how
breath of the awed traveller, are tributes of an ad- much the days of man then passed, as they do to
miration not to be checked or frozen by the chilling  this very hour. You see the labours of agriculture
rules of taste.                                 -the sower, the basket, the plough; the steers;
" We passed the entire day in these ruins; each and the artist has playfully depicted a calf skipping
wandering about alone, as inclination led him. De- among the furrows. You have the making of bread,
tailed descriptions I cannot give; I have neither the the cooking for a feast; you have a flower garden,
skill or the patience to count and to measure. Ias- and a scene of irrigation; you see couches, sofas,
cended a wing of the great propylon on the west, chairs, and arm-chairs, such as might, this day,
and sat there long. Icrept round the colossalstatues! adorn a drawing-room  in London or Paris; you
I seated myself on a fallen obelisk, and gazed up at have vases of every form down to the common jug,
the three, yet standing erect amid huge fragments (ay! such as the brown one of Toby Philpot); you
of fallen granite. I sauntered slowly round every  have harps, with figures bending over them, and
part, examining the paintings and hieroglyphics, others seated and listening; you have barks, with
and listening now and then, not without a smile, to large, curious, and many-coloured sails; lastly, you
our polite little cicerone, as with the air of a con- have weapons of war, the sword, the dagger, the
descending savant, he pointed to many of the sym- bow, the arrow, the quiver, spears, helmets, and
bols, saying,' this means water,' and'that means dresses of honour.-The other scenes on the walls
land,'' this stability,'' that life,' and'here is the represent processions and mysteries, and all the
name of Berenice.' —Scenes in Egypt, pp. 88-92.  apartments are covered with them or hieroglyphics.
"From hence we bade our guide conduct us to There is a small chamber with the cow of Isis, and
some catacombs; he did so, in the naked hill just there is one large room in an unfinished state,above. Some are passages, some pits; but, in gene- designs chalked off, that were to have been comral, passages in the side of the hill. Here and there pleted on that to-morrow, which never came!"
you may find a bit of the rock or clay, smoothed                           Ibid. pp. 104-109.
and painted, or bearing the mark of a thin fallen
coating of composition; but, for the most part, theyd But we must hurry on. We cannot afford
are quite plain. Bones, rags, and the scattered  to make an abstract of this book, and indeed
limbs of skeletons, which have been torn from their
coffins, stripped of their grave-clothes, and robbed  can find room but for a few more specimens.
of the sacred scrolls placed with them in the tomb, He meets with a Scotch Mameluke at Cairo;
lie in or around these' open sepulchres.' We found  and is taken by Mr. Salt to the presence of Ali
nothing; but surely the very rag blown to your feet Pacha. He visits the pyramids of course, deis a relic. May it not have been woven by some scribes rapidly and well the whole process of
damsel under the shade of trees, with the song that the visit-and thus moralises the conclusion:
* The central row have the enormous diameter   " He who has stood on the summit of the most
Seleven French feet, the others that of eight.  ancient, and yet the mort mighty monument of his




SKETCHES OF INDIA-EGYPT AND ITALY.                                  68,
power and pride ever raised by man, and has looked scene of the Sicilian cottage, than for the
out and round to the far horizon, where Lybia and  sketch of the mighty mountainArabia lie silent, and hath seen, at his feet, the land
of Egypt dividing their dark solitudes with a narrow    "It was near ten o'clock when the youth who
vale, beautiful and green, the mere enamelled set- led the way stopped before a small dark cottage ill
ting of one solitary shining river, must receive im- a by-lane of Nicolosi, the guide's he said it was,
pressions which he can never convey, for he cannot and hailed them. The door was opened; a light
define them to himself.                        struck; and the family was roused, and collected
"They are the tombs of Cheops and Cephrenes, round me; a grey-headed old peasant and his wife;
says tne Grecian. They are the tombs of Seth and  two hardy, plain, dark young men, brothers (one
Enoch, says the wild and imaginative Arabian; an of whom was in his holiday gear, new breeches,
English traveller, with a mind warmed, perhaps, and red garters, and flowered waistcoat, and clean
and misled by his heart, tells you that the large py-. shirt, and shining buttons;) a girl of sixteen, hand.
ramid may have contained the ashes of the patriarch some; a' mountain-girl beaten with winds,' look.
Joseph. It is all this which constitutes the very ing curious, yet fear ess and'chaste as the har.
charm of a visit to these ancient monuments. You  dened rock on which she dwelt;' and a boy of
smile, and your smile is followed and reproved by twelve, an unconscious figure in the group, fast
a sigh. One thing you know-that the chief, and the slumbering in his clothes on'the hard floor. Glad
philosopher, and the poet of the times of old, men  were they of the dollar-bringing stranger, but sur-'who mark fields as they pass with their own prised at the excellenza's fancy for coming at that
mighty names,' have certainly been here; that Al- hour; cheerfully, however, the gay youth stripped
exander has spurred his war-horse to its base; and off his holiday-garb, and put on a dirty shirt and
Pythagoras, with naked foot, has probably stood thick brown clothes, and took his cloak and went
upon its summit.-Scenes in Egypt, pp. 158, 159.  to borrow a mule (for I found, by their consultation, that there was some trick, this not being the
Cairo is described in great detail, and fre- regular privileged guide family.' During his abquently with great feeling and eloquence. He sence, the girl brought me a draught of wine, and
saw a live cameleopard there-very beautiful all stood round with welcoming and flattering
and gentle.  One of his most characteristic  laughings, and speeches in Sicilian, which I did
sketches, however, is that of the female slave  not understand, but which gave me pleasure, and
market.                                        made me look on their dirty and crowded cottage
as one I had rather trust to, if I knocked at it even
"We stopped before the gate of a large building, without a dollar, than the lordliest mansion of' the
and, turning, entered a court of no great size, with richest noble in Sicily.
a range of apartments all round; open doors show-   "For about four miles, your mule stumbles alone
ed that they were dark and wretched. At them, or safely over a bed of lava, lying in masses on the
before them, stood or sat small groups of female road; then you enter the woody region: the wood
slaves; also from within these chambers, you might is open, of oaks, not large, yet good-sized trees,
catch the moving eyes and white teeth of those who growing amid fern; and, lastly, you come out on a
shunned the light. There was a gallery above with soft barren soil, and pursue the ascent till you find
other rooms, and slave girls leaning on the rail-  a glistering white crust of snow of no depth, cracklaughter, all laughter!-their long hair in numerous ing under your mule's tread; soon after, you arrive
iailing curls, white with fat; their faces, arms, and at a stone cottage, called Casa Inglese, of which
bosoms shining with grease. Exposure in the market my guide had not got the key; here you dismount,
is the moment oftheir joy. Their cots, their country, and we tied up our mules close by, and scramblin'he breast that gave them suck,the hand that led their over huge blocks of lava, and up the toilsome and
tottering steps not forgotten, but resigned, given up, slippery ascent of the cone, I sat me down on
as things gone for ever, left in another world. The ground all hot, and smoking with sulphureous
toils and terrors of the wide desert, the hard and vapour, which has for the first few minutes th
scanty fare, the swollen foot, the whip, the scalding effect of making your eyes smart, and water, &f
tear, the curse; all, all are behind: hope meets oppressing and taking away your breath. It yet
them  again here; and paints some master kind-; wanted half an hour to the break of day, and I
sarae mistress gentle; some babe or child to win  wrapped my cloak close round me to guard me,ne heart of;-as bond-women they may bear a from  the keen air which came up over the Wiline
son, and live and die the contented inmates of some cape of snow that lay spread at the foot of the
quiet harem."-lbid. pp. 178, 179.              smoking cone, where I was seated.
" The earliest dawn gave to my view the awful
He does not think much of Ali's new Insti- crater, with its two deep mouths, from one whereof
tute-though he was assured by one of the tu- there issued large volumes of thick white smoke,
trrs that its pupils were to be taught "' every- pressing tip in closely crowding clouds; and all
thing!"  We have learned, from unquestion-  around, you saw the earth loose, and with crimped,
yvellow-mouthed small cracks, up which came little,
able authority, that from  this everyttirg, all, light, thin wreaths of smoke that soon dissipated in
that relates to Politics, Religion, and Philoso- the upper air, &c.-And when you turn to gaze
phy, is expressly excluded; and that little is downwards, and see the golden sun come up in
proposed to be taught but the elements of the  light and majesty to bless the waking millions of
useful arts.  There is a scanty library of Eu- your fellows, and the dun vapour of the night roll
ropean books, almost all French, —the most off below, and capes, and hills, and towns, and the
wide ocean are seen as through a thin unearthly
conspicuous backed.   Victoires des Franqais; veil; your eyes fill, and your heart swells; all the
— and besides these, " Les Liaisons Dange- blessings you enjoy, all the innocent pleasures you
reuses!" —only one book in English, though  find in your wanderings, that preservation, which
not ill-choen —" Malcolm's Persia." He was in storm, and in battle, and mid the pestilence was
detained at Alexandria in a time of plague- mercifully given to your half-breathed prayer, all
and, after all, was obliged to return, when  iuid. pp. 253-257.
four. days at sea. to land two sick men, and
perform a new quarantine of observation.          The following brief sketch of the rustic
There is an admirable description of Va- auberges of Sicily is worth preserving, as!etta, and the whole island-and then of Syra- well as the sentiment with which it closes.cuse and Catania; but we can give only the    " The chambers of these rude inns would please,
night ascent to Etna-and that rather for the at first, any one. Three or four beds (mere planks




682                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
upon iron trestles), with broad, yellow-striped, and refresh the sight with a view of earth and ocean
coarse mattresses, turned up on them; a table and  The view from the Belvidere, in the garden of SLt
chairs of wood, blackened by age, and of forms Martino, close to the fortress of St. Elmo, is said
belonging to the past century; a daub or two of a to be unequalled in the world. I was walking along
picture, and two or three coloured prints of Ma- the cloister to it, when I heard voices behind me,
donnas and saints: a coarse table cloth, and coarser and saw an English family-father, mother, with
napkin; a thin blue-tinted drinking glass; dishes daughter and son, of drawing-room and university
and plates of a striped, dirty-coloured, pimply ware; ages. I turned aside that I might not intrude on
and a brass lamp with three mouths, a shape com- them, and went to take my gaze when they came
mon to Delhi, Cairo, and Madrid, and as ancient away from the little balcony. I saw no features;
as the time of the Etruscans themselves.       but the dress, the gentle talking, and the quietude
"To me it had another charm; it brought Spain  of their whole manner, gave me great pleasure. A
before me, the peasant and his cot, and my chance happy domestic English family! parents travelling to
billets among that loved and injured people. Ah! delight, improve, and protect their children; younger
I will not dwell on it; but this only I will venture ones at home perhaps, who will sit next summer on
to say, they err greatly, grossly, who fancy that the the shady lawn, and listen as Italy is talked over,
Spaniard, the most patiently brave and resolutely  and look at prints, and turn over a sister's sketch.
Dersevering man, as a man, on the continent of book, and beg a brother's journal. Magically varied
Europe, will wear long any yoke he feels galling is the grandeur of the scene-the pleasant city; its
and detestable."-Scenes in Egypt, pp. 268, 269. broad bay; a little sea that knows no storms; its
garden neighbourhood; its famed Vesuvius, not
The picture of Naples is striking; and re- looking either vast, or dark, or dreadful-all bright
minds us in many places of Mad. de Staml's and smiling, garmented with vineyards below, and
splendid sketches from  the same subjects in  its brow barren, yet not without a hue of that ashen
Corrinne.  But we must draw to a close now  er slaty blueness which improves a mountain's
and shall add but one or aspect; and far behind, stretched in their full bold
with our extracts; and shall add but one or forms, the shadowy Appenines. Gaze and go back,
two more, peculiarly characteristic of the gen- English!  Naples, with all its beauties and its
tle mind and English virtues of the author.   pleasures, its treasury of' ruins, and recollections,
and fair works of art; its soft music and balmy airs
" I next went into the library, a noble room, and cannot make you happy; may gratify the gaze of
a vast collection. I should much like to have seen  taste, but never suit the habits of your mind. There
those things which are shown here, especially the are many homeless solitary Englishmen who might
handwriting of Tasso. I was led as far, and into sojourn longer in such scenes, and be soothed by
the apartment where they are shown. I found  them; but to become dwellers, settled residents,
priests reading, and men looking as if they were would be, even for them, impossible."
learned. I was confused at the creaking of my                             Ibid. pp. 301-303.
boots; I gave the hesitating look of a wish, but I
ended by a blush, bowed, and retired. I passed    We must break off here-though there is
again into the larger apartment, and I felt composed much temptation to go on. But we have now
as I looked around.  Why life, thought I, would shown enough of these volumes to enable our
be too short for any human being to read these readers to judge safely of their characterfolios; but yet, if safe from the pedant's frown, and it would be unfair, perhaps, to steal more
one could have a vast library to range in, there is
little doubt that, with a love of truth, and a thirst- from their pages. We think we have extracting for knowledge, the man of middle age, who ed impartially; and are sensible, at all events
regretted his early closed lexicon, might open it that we have given specimens of the faults
again with delight and profit. While thus musing, as well as the beauties of the author's style.
iii stamped two travellers, —my countrymen, my  His taste in writing certainly is not unexcepbold, brave countrymen-not intellectual, I could onable. He is seldom quite simple or natura
have sworn, or Lavater is a cheat-             tionable. He is seldom quite simple or natural,
" Pride in their port, defiance in their eye:"- and sometimes very fade and affected. He
has little bits of inversions in his sentences,
They strode across to confront the doctors, and and small exclamations and ends of ordinary
demanded to see those sights to which the book
directed, and the grinning domestique de place led verse dangling about them, which we often
them. I envied them, and yet was angry with wish away-and he talks rather too much of
them; however, I soon bethought me, such are the himself, and his ignorance, and  humility,
men who are often sterling characters, true hearts. while he is turning those fine sentences, and
They will find no seduction in a southern sun! but laying traps for our applause.  But, in spite
back to the English girl they love best, to be liked of all these things, the books are very interest-'y her softer nature the better for having seen Italy, ing and instructive; and their merits greatly
and taught by her gentleness to speak about it
pleasingly, and prize what they have seen!-Such  outweigh their defects.  If the author has
are the men whom our poor men like,-who are occasional failures, he has frequent felicities:
generous masters and honest voters, faithful hus- -and, independent of the many beautiful
~ands and kind fathers; who, if they make us smiled and brilliant passages which he has furnished
at abroad in peace, make us feared in war, and any for our delight. has contrived to breathe over
ne of whom is worth to his country far more than
a dozen mere sentimental wanderers.)"   etaall his work a spirit of kindliness and contentibid. pp. 296-298.    ment, which, if it does not minister (as it
"Always on quitting the museum it is a relief to ought) to our improvement, must at least
drive somewhere, that you may relieve the mind disarm our censure of all bitterness.




WARBURTON'S LETTERS.                              683
(Jannat', 18  9.)
Letters from a late eminent Prelate to one of his Friends. 4to. pp. 380. Kidderminster: 1808
WARBURTON) we think, was the last of our cordiality among all the virtuous and enlight.
Great Divines-the last, perhaps, of any pro- ened, wasted their days in wrangling upon
fession among us, who united profound learn- idle theories; and in applying, to the specuing with great powers of understanding, and, lative errors of their equals in talents and in
along with vast and varied stores of acquired virtue, those terms of angry reprobation which
knowledge, possessed energy of mind enough should be reserved for vice and malignity.
to wield them with ease and activity. The days In neither of these characters, therefore, can
of the Cudworths and Barrows-the Hookers we seriously lament that Warburton is not
and Taylors, are long gone by. Among the likely to have any successor.
other divisions of intellectual labour to which   The truth is, that this extraordinary person
the progress of society has given birth, the was a Giant in Literature-with many of the
business of reasoning, and the business of vices of the Gigantic character. Strong as he
collecting knowledge, have been, in a great was, his excessive pride and overweening
measure, put into separate hands. Our scho- vanity were perpetually engaging him in enlars ait now little else than pedants, and an- terprises which he could not accomplish:
tiquaries, and grammarians,-)who have never while such was his intolerable arrogance toexercised any faculty but memory; and our wards his opponents, and his insolence toreasoners are, for the most part, but slenderly wards those whom he reckoned as his infeprovided with learning; or, at any rate, make riors, that he made himself very generally
but a slender use of it in their reasonings. Of and deservedly odious, and ended by doing
the two, the reasoners are by far the best off; considerable injury to all the causes which
and, upon many subjects, have really profited he undertook to support. The novelty and
by the separation.'Argument from authority the boldness of his manner-the resentment
is, in general, the weakest and the most tedi- of his antagonists-and the consternation of
ous of all arguments; and learning, we are in- his friends, insured him a considerable share
elined to believe, has more frequently played of public attention at the beginning: But such
the part of a bully than of a fair auxiliary; was the repulsion of his moral qualities as a
and been oftener used to frighten people than writer, and the fundamental unsoundness of
to convince them, —to dazzle and overawe, most of his speculations, that he no sooner
rather than to guide and enlighten. A mo- ceased to write, than he ceased to be read or
dern writer would not, if he could, reason as inquired after,-and lived to see those erudite
Barrow and Cud worthoften reason: and every volumes fairly laid on the shelf, which he
reader, even of Warburton, must have felt fondly expected to carry down a growing
that his learning often encumbers rather than fame to posterity.
assists his progress, and, like shining armour,   The history of Warburton, indeed, is un
adds more to his terrors than to his strength. commonly curious, and his fate instructive.
The true theory of this separation may be, He was bred an attorney at Newark; and
therefore, that scholars who are capable of probably derived, from his early practice in
reasoning, have ceased to make a parade of that capacity, that love of controversy, and
their scholarship; while those who have no- that habit of scurrility, for which he was afterthing else must continue to set it forward-  wards distinguished. His first literary assojust as gentlemen now-a-days keep their gold ciates were some of the heroes of the Dunciad;
in their pockets, instead of wearing it on their and his first literary adventure the publication
clothes-while the fashion of laced suits still of some poems, which well entitled him to a
prevails among their domestics. There are place among those worthies. He helped "pilindividuals, however, who still think that a fering Tibbalds" to some notes upon Shakeman of rank looks most dignified in cut velvet speare; and spoke contemptuously of Mr.
and embroidery, and that one who is not a Pope's talents, and severely of his morals, in
gentleman can now counterfeit that appear- his letters to Concannen. He then hired his
ance a little too easily. We do not presume pen to prepare a volume on the Jurisdiction
to settle so weighty a dispute;-we only take of the Court of Chancery; and having now
the liberty of observing; that Warburton lived entered the church, made a more successful
to see the fashion go out; and was almost the endeavour to magnify his profession, and to
last native gentleman who appeared in a full attract notice to himself by the publication
trimmed coat.                            of his once famous book on " the Alliance
He was not only the last of our reasoning between Church and State," in which all the
scholars; but the last also we think, of our presumption and ambition of his nature was
powerful polemics. This breed too, we take first made manifest.
it, is extinct;-and we are not sorry for it.   By this time, however, he seems to have
Those men cannot be much regretted, who, passed over from the party of the Dunces to
instead of applying their great and active that of Pope; and proclaimed his conversion
faculties in making their fellows better or pretty abruptly, by writing an elaborate de
wiser, or in promo'.ng mutual kindness and fence of the Essay on Man from some iinputa




684                            MISCELLANEOUS.
lions which ha.i been tlarown on its theology a victory, which is now generally adjudged to
and morality. Pope received the services of his opponents. The object of -"the Divino
this voluntary champion with great gratitude; Legation," for instance, is to prove that tho
and Warburton having now discovered that mission of Moses was certainly from God,-.
he was not only a great poet, but a very honest because his system is the only one which
man, continued to cultivate his friendship with does not teach the doctrine of a future state
great assiduity, and with very notable success: of rewards and punishments! And the ob.
For Pope introduced him to Mr. Murray, who ject of "the Alliance" is to show. that the
made him preacher at Lincoln's Inn, and to church (that is, as he explains it, all the ad.
Mr. Allen of Prior Park, who gave him his herents of the church of England) is entitled
niece in marriage, —obtained a bishopric for to a legal establishment, and the protection of
him, —and left him his whole estate. In the a test law, —because it constitutes a separate
mean time, he published his "Divine Lega- society from that which is concerned in the
tion of Moses,"-the most learned most arro- civil government, and, being equally sovereign
gant, and most absurd work, which had been and independent, is therefore entitled to treat
produced in England for a century;-and his with it on a footing of perfect equality. The
editions of Pope, and of Shakespeare, in which sixth book of Virgil, we are assured. in the
he was scarcely less outrageous and fantas- same peremptory manner, contains merely
tical. He replied to some of his answerers in the description of the mysteries of Eleusis;
a style full of insolence and brutal scurrility; and the badness of the New Testament Greek
and not only poured out the most tremendous a conclusive proof both of the eloquence and
abuse on the infidelities of Bolingbroke and the inspiration of its authors. These fncies,
Hume, but found occasion also to quarrel it appears to us, require no refutation; and,
with Drs. Middleton, Lowth, Jortin. Leland, dazzled and astonished as we are at the rich
and indeed almost every name distinguished and variegated tissue of learning and argufor piety and learning in England. At the ment with which their author has invested
same time, he indited the most highflown their extravagance, we conceive that no man
adulation to Lord Chesterfield, and contrived of a sound and plain understanding can ever
to keep himself in the good graces of Lord mistake them for truths, or waver, in the least
Mansfield and Lord Hardwicke; —whiie, in degree, from the conviction which his own
the midst of affluence and honours, he was reflection must afford of their intrinsic abcontinually exclaiming against the barbarity surdity.
of the age in rewarding genius so frugally,   The case is very nearly the same with his
and in not calling in the aid of the civil ma- subordinate general propositions; which, in
gistrate to put down fanaticism and infidelity. so far as they are original, are all brought
The public, however, at last, grew weary of forward with the parade of great discoveries,
these blustering novelties. The bishop, as and yet appear to us among the most futile
old age stole upon him, began to doze in his and erroneous of modern speculations. We
mitre; and though Dr. Richard Hurd, with are tempted to mention two, which we think,he true spirit of an underling, persisted in we have seen referred to by later writers with
keeping up the petty traffic of reciprocal en- some degree of approbation, and which, at
comiums, yet Warburton was lost to the pub- any rate, make a capital figure in all the funlic long before he sunk into dotage, and lay damental philosophy of Warburton. The one
dead as an author for many years of his natu- relates to the necessary imperfection of human
ral existence.                          laws, as dealing in Punishments only, and not
We have imputed this rapid decline of his in Rewards also.  The other concerns his
reputation, partly to the unsoundness of his notion of the ultimate foundation of moral
general speculations, and chiefly to the of- Obligation.
fensiveness of his manner. The fact is ad-   The very basis of his argument for the
mitted even by those who pretend to regret necessity of the doctrine of a future state to
it; and, whatever Dr. Hurd may have thought, the well-being of society, is, that, by human
it must have had other causes than the decay laws, the conduct of men is only controlled
of public virtue and taste.              by the fear of punishment, and not excited by
In fact, when we look quietly and soberly the hope of reward. Both these sanctions
over the vehement and imposing treatises of however, he contends, are necessary to reguWarburton, it is scarcely possible not to per- late our actions, and keep the world ini order;
teive, that almost every thing that is original and, therefore, legislators, not finding rewards.ai his doctrine or propositions is erroneous; in this world, have always been obliged to
and that his great gifts of learning and argu- connect it with a future world, in which they
mentation have been bestowed on a vain at- have held out that they would be bestowed
tempt to give currency to untenable paradoxes. on all deservers. It is scarcely possible, we
His powers and his skill in controversy may believe, to put this most important doctrine
indeed conceal, from a careless reader, the on a more injudicious foundation; and if this
radical fallacy of his reasoning; and as, in were the only ground either for telieving or
the course of the argument, he frequently inculcating the doctrine of a future state, we
has the better of his adversaries upon inci- should tremble at the advaptages which the
dental and collateral topics, and never fails to infidel would have in the contest. We shall
make his triumph resound over the whole not detain our readers longer, than just to
field of battle, it is easy to understand how  point out three obvious fallacies in this, the
De should, for a while, have got the credit of most vaunted and confident, perhaps, of all




WARBURTON'S LETTERS                                   685
the Warburtonian dogmata. In the first place, ishment, it evidently would not add to its per.
t is obvious that disorders in society can fection, to make it also the distributer of rescarcely be said to be prevented by the hope wards; unless it could be shown, that a simi
of future rewards: the proper use of that doe- lar disorder was likely to arise from leaving
trine being, not to repress vice, but to console these to the individuals affected. It is obaffliction.  Vice and disorder can only be vious, however, not only that there is no likequelled by the dread of future punishment-  lihood of such a disorder, but that such an
whether in this world or the next; while it is interference would be absurd and impractical
obvious that the despondency and distress ble. It is true, therefore, that human laws
which may be soothed by the prospect of do in general provide punishments only, and
future bliss, are not disorders within the pur- not rewards; but it is not true that they are,
view of the legislator. In the second place, on this account, imperfect or defective; or
it is obviously not true that human laws are that human conduct is not actually regulated
necessarihy deficient in the article of providing by the love of happiness, as much as by the
rewards.  In many instances, their enact- dread of suffering. The doctrine of a future
ments have this direct object; and it is ob- state adds, no doubt, prodigiously to both these
vious, that if it was thought essential to the motives; but it is a rash, a presumptuous,
well-being of society, they might reward quite and, we think, a most shortsighted and naras often as they punish. But, in the third row view of the case, to suppose, that it is
place, the whole argument proceeds upon a chiefly the impossibility of rewarding virtue
gross and unaccountable misapprehension of on Earth, that has led legislators to secure the
the nature and object of legislation;-a very peace of society, by referring it for its recombrief explanation of which will show, both pense to Heaven.
that the temporal rewards of virtue are just   The other dogma to which we alluded, is
as sure as the temporal punishments of vice, advanced with equal confidence and pretenand at the same time explain why the law  sions; and is, if possible, still more shallow
has so seldom interfered to enforce the for- and erroneous.  Speculative moralists had
mer. The law arose from  human feelings been formerly contented with referring moral
and notions of justice; and those feelings and obligation, either to a moral sense, or to a
notions, were, of course, before the law, which perception of utility; —Warburton, without
only came in aid of their deficiency. The much ceremony, put both these together:
natural and necessary effect of kind and vir- But his grand discovery is, that even this tie
tuous conduct is, to excite love, gratitude  is not strong enough; and that the idea of
and benevolence — the effect of injury and moral obligation is altogether ilcomplete and
vice is to excite resentment, anger, and re. imperfect, unless it be made to rest, also on
venge.  While there was no law  and no the Will of a Superior. There is no point in
magistrate, men must have acted upon those all his philosophy, of which he is more vain
feelings, and acted upon them in their whole than of this pretended discovery; and he
extent. He who rendered kindness, received speaks of it, we are persuaded, twenty times,
kindness; and he who inflicted pain and suf- without once suspecting the gross fallacy
fering, was sooner or later overtaken by re- which it involves.  The fallacy is not, howtorted pain and suffering. Virtue was.rewarded ever, in stating an erroneous proposition-for
therefore, and vice punished, at all times; it is certainly true, that the command of a
and both, we must suppose, in the same superior will generally constitute an obligameasure and degree. The reward of virtue, tion: it lies altogether in supposing that this
however, produced no disturbance or dis- is a separate or additional ground of obligaorder; and, after society submitted to regula- tion,-and in not seeing that this vaunted distion, was very safely -left in the hands of covery of a third principle for the foundation
gratitude and sympathetic kindness. But it of morality, was in fact nothing but an indiwas far otherwise with the punishment of vidual instance or exemplification of the prinvice. Resentment and revenge tended always ciple of utility.
to a dangerous excess, —were liable to be as-   Why are we bound by the will of a supesumed as the pretext for unprovoked aggres- rior?-evidently for no other reason, than besion,-and, at all events, had a tendency to cause superiority implies a power to affect our
reproduce revenge and resentment in an in- happiness; and the expression of will assures
terminable series of violence and outrage. us, that our happiness will be affected by our
The lar, therefore, took this duty into its own disobedience.   An obligation is something
hands. It did not invent, or impose' for the which constrains or induces us to act;-but
first time, that sanction of punishment, which there neither is nor can be any other motive
was coeval with vice and with society, and for the actions of rational and sentient beings,
is implied, indeed, in the very notion of in- than the love of happiness. It is the desire
jury:-it only transferred the right of apply- of happiness-well or ill understood-seen
ing it from the injured individual to the pub- widely or narrowly,-that necessarily dictates
lie; and tempered its application by more all our actions, and is at the bottom of all our
impartial and extensive views of the circur- conceptions of morality or duty: and the will
stances of the delinquency. But if the pun- of a superior can only constitute a ground of
ishment of vice be not ultimately derived from  obligation, by connecting itself with this sin-;aw, neither is the reward of virtue; and al- gle and universal agent. If it were possible
though human passions made it necessary for to disjoin the idea of our own happiness or
law to undertake the regulatiou of that pun- suffering from the idea of a superior, it is:b



686                             MISCELLANEOUS.
vious, that we should no longer be under any in the fields of controversy.  Fortunately,
obligation to conform to the will of that supe- their example has not been generally follow
rior. If we should be equally secure of hap- ed; and the sect itself, though graced with
piness-in mind and in body-in time and in mitres, and other trophies of worldly success,
eternity, by disobeying his will, as by cornm- has perished, we think, in consequence of the
plying with it, it is evidently altogether incon- experiment.
ceivable, that the expression of that will should   A second, and perhaps, a still more formlimpose any obligation upon us: And although dable mischief, arose from the discredit which
it be true that we cannot suppose such a case, was brought on the priesthood, and indeed
it is not the less a fallacy to represent the will upon religion in general, by this interchange
of a superior as a third and additional ground of opprobrious and insulting accusationsamong
of obligation, newly discovered by this author, its ministers.  If the abuse was justifiable
and superadded to the old principle of a regard then the church itself gave shelter to folly
to happiness, or utility. We take these in- and wickedness, at least as great as was to be
stances of the general unsoundness of all found under the banners of infidelity;;-if it
Warburton's peculiar doctrines, from  topics was not justifiable, then it was apparent, that
on which he is generally supposed to have abuse by those holy men was no proof of debeen less extravagant than on any other. merit in those against whom it was directed;
Those who wish to know his feats in criticism, and the unbelievers. of course, were furnished
mayr be referred to the Canons of Mr. Ed- with an objection to the sincerity of those inwards; and those who admire the originality of vectives of which they themselves were the
his Dissertation on the Mysteries, are recom- objects.
mended to look into the Eleusis of Meursius.    This applies to those indecent expressions
Speculations like these could never be pop- of violence and contempt, in which Warburto.
alar; and were not likely to attract the atten- and his followers were accustomed to indulge.
Zion, even of the studious, longer than their when speaking of their Christian and clerical
novelty, and the glare of erudition and orig- opponents. But the greatest evil of all, we
Inality which was thrown around them, pro- think, arose from the intemperance, coarsetected them  from  deliberate consideration. ness, and acrimony of their remarks, even on
But the real cause of the public alienation those who were enemies to revelation. There
from the works of this writer, is undoubtedly is, in all well-constituted minds, a natural
to be found in the revolting arrogance of his feeling of indulgence towards those errors of
general manner, and the offensive coarseness opinion, to which, from the infirmity of human
of his controversial invectives.  These, we reason, all men are liable, and of compassion
think, must be confessed to be somewhat for those whose errors have endangered their
worse than mere error in reasoning, or ex- happiness. It must be the natural tendency
travagance in theory. They are not only of- of all candid and liberal persons, therefore, to
fences of the first magnitude against good regard unbelievers with pity, and to reason
taste and good manners, but are likely to be with them with mildness and forbearance.
attended with pernicious consequences in Infidel writers, we conceive, may generally
matters of much higher importance. Though be allowed to be actual unbelievers; for it is
we are not disposed to doubt of the sincerity difficult to imagine what other motive than a
of this reverend person's abhorrence for vice sincere persuasion of the truth of their opinand infidelity, we are seriously of opinion, that ions, could induce them to become objects of
his writings have been substantially prejudi- horror to the respectable part of any commucial to the cause of religion and morality; and nity, by their disclosure. From what vices
that it is fortunate for both, that they have of the heart, or from what defects in the unnow fallen into general oblivion.         derstanding, their unbelief may have originatThey have produced, in the first place, all ed, it may not always be easy to determine;
the mischief of a conspicuous, and, in some but it seems obvious that, for the unbelief itsense, a successful example of genius and self, they are rather to be pitied than reviled;
learning, associated with insolence, intoler- and that the most effectual way of persuading
ance, and habitual contumely and outrage. the public that their opinions are refuted out
All men who are engaged in controversy are of a regard to human happiness, is to treat
apt enough to be abusive and insulting,-and their author (whose happiness is most in dan.
clergymen, perhaps, rather more apt than ger) with some small degree of liberality and
others. It is an intellectual warfare, in which, gentleness. It is also pretty generally takea
as in other wars2 it is natural, we suspect, to for granted, that a very angry disputant is
be ferocious, unjust, and unsparing; but ex- usually in the wrong; that it is not a sign of
perience and civilisation have tempered this much confidence in the argument, to take advehemence, by gentler and more generous vantage of the unpopularity or legal danger
maxims,-and introduced a law of honourable of the opposite doctrine; and that, when an
hostility, ~y which the fiercer elements of our unsuccessful and unfair attempt is made to
nature are mastered and controlled. No great- discredit the general ability or personal worth
er evil, perhaps, can be imagined, than the of an antagonist, no great reliance is under.
violation of this law from any quarter of influ- stood to be placed on the argument by which
ence and reputation;-yet the Warburtonians he may be lawfully opposed.
may be said to have used their best endeav-   It is needless to apply these observations to
ours to introduce the use of poisoned weapons, the case of the Warburtonian controversies.
and to abolish the practice of giving quarter, There is no man, we believe, however he may




WARBURTON'S LETTERS.                                6~,
be convinced of the fallacy and danger of the ness, he disables both the judgment and the
principles maintained by Lord Bolingbroke, candour of his instructor, and conceives a
by Voltaire, or by Hume, who has not felt in- strong prejudice in favour of the cause which
dignation and disgust at the brutal violence, has been attacked in a manner so unwar.
the affected contempt, and the flagrant unfair- rantable.
ness with which they are treated by this   We have had occasion, oftener than once,
learned author,-who has not, for a moment, to trace an effect like this, from this fierce
taken part with them against so ferocious and and overbearing aspect of orthodoxy;-and
ihsulting an opponent, and wished for the we appeal to the judgment of all our readers,
mortification and chastisement of the advocate, whether it be not the very effect which it is
even while impressed with the greatest vene- calculated to produce on all youthful minds
ration for the cause. We contemplate this of any considerable strength and originality.
scene of orthodox fury, in short, with some- It is to such persons, however, and to such
th;ng of the same emotions with which we only, that the refutation of infidel writers
sh.'1d see a heretic subjected to the torture, ought to be addressed. There is no need to
or a freethinker led out to the stake by a zeal- write books against Hume and Voltaire for the
ous inquisitor. If this, however, be the effect use of the learned and orthodox part of the
of such illiberal violence, even on those whose English clergy. Such works are necessarily
principles are settled, and whose faith is con- supposed to be intended for the benefit of
firmed by habit and reflection, the conse- young persons, who have either contracted
quences must obviously be still more perni- some partiality for those seductive writers, or
cious for those whose notions of religion are are otherwise in danger of being misled by
still uninformed and immature, and whose them. It is to be presumed, therefore, that
minds are open to all plausible and liberal they know and admire their real excellences;
impressions. Take the case, for instance, of -and it might consequently be inferred, that
a young man, who has been delighted with they will not listen with peculiar complacency
the eloquence of Bolingbroke, and the sagacity to a refutation of their errors, which sets out
and ingenuity of Hume; —who knows, more- with a torrent of illiberal and unjust abuse of
over, that the one lived in intimacy with Pope, their talents and characters.
and Swift, and Atterbury. and almost all the   We are convinced, therefore, that the bullyworthy and eminent persons of his time; — ing and abusive tone of the Warburtonian
and that the other was the cordial friend of school, even in its contention with infidels,
Robertson and Blair, and was irreproachably has lone more harm to the cause of religion,
correct and amiable in every relation of life; and alienated more youthful and aspiring
-and who, perceiving with alarm  the ten- minds from  the true faith, than any other
dency of some of their speculations, applies error into which zeal has ever betrayed orthoto Warburton for an antidote to the poison he doxy. It may afford a sort of vincdictive demay have imbibed. In Warburton he will then light to the zealots who stand in no need of
read that Bolingbroke was a paltry driveller- the instruction of which it should be the veVoltaire a pitiable scoundrel-and Hume a hicle; but it will, to a certainty, revolt and?uny dialectician, who ought to have been set disgust all those to whom that instruction was
on the pillory, and whose heart was as base necessary,-enlist all the generous feelings
and corrupt as his understanding was con- of their nature on the side of infidelity,-and
temptible! Now, what, we would ask any make piety and reason itself appear like preman of common candour and observation, is judice and bigotry. We think it fortunate,
the effect likely to be produced on the mind therefore, upon the whole, that the controverof any ingenious and able young man by this sial writings of Warburton have alreadypassed
style of confutation? Infallibly to make him  into oblivion — since, even if we thought more
take part with the reviled and insulted literati, highly than we do of the substantial merit of
-to throw aside the right reverend confuter his arguments, we should still be of opinion
with contempt and disgust,-and most proba- that they were likely to do more mischief
bly to conceive a fatal prejudice against the than the greater part of the sophistries which
cause of religion itself —thus unhappily asso- it was their professed object to counteract and
ciated with coarse and ignoble scurrility. He discredit.
must know to a certainty, in the first place,   These desultory observations have carried
that the contempt of the orthodox champion is us so completely away from the book, by the
either affected, or proceeds from most gross title of which they were suggested, that we
ignorance and incapacity; —since the abilities have forgotten to announce to our readers,
of the reviled writers is proved, not only by that it contains a series of familiar letters, adhis own feeling and experience, but by the dressed by Warburton to Doctor (afterwards
suffrage of the public and of all men of intel- Bishop) Hurd, from the year 1749, when their
ligence. He must think, in the second place, acquaintance commenced, down to 1776, when
that the imputations on their moral worth are the increasing infirmities of the former put a
false and calumnious, both from the fact of stop to the correspondence. Some little use
their long friendship with the purest and most was made of these letters in the life of his
exalted characters of their age, and from the friend, which Bishop Hurd published, after a
obvious irrelevancy of this topic in a fair refu- very long delay, in 1794; but the treasure was
tation of their errors — and then, applying the hoarded up, in the main, till the death of that
ordinary maxims by which we judge of a dis- prelate; soon after which, the present volume
putant's cause, from his temper and his fair- was prepared for publication, in obedience to




688                                MlSCELLANEOUS.
the following intimation prefixed to the origi-   "I am strongly tempted, too, to have a stroke at
nal collection, and now printed in the front Hume in parting. He is the author of a little book,
of the book:                                   called Philosophical Essays; in one part of which
he argues against the being of a God, and in another
"These letters give so true a picture of the (very needlessly you will say) against the possibility
writer's character, and are, besides, so worthy of' of miracles. HIle has crowned the liberty of the press.
aim in all respects (I mean, if the reader can forgive And yet he has a considerable post under the Gothe playfulness of his wit in some instances, and the vernment! I have a great mind to do justice on
partiality of his friendship in many more), that, in his arguments against miracles, which I think might
honour of his memory, I would have them published  be done in few words. But does he deserve no.
after my death, and the profits arising from the sale tice? Is he known amongst you? Pray answer
of them, applied to the benefit of the Worcester ume these questions; for if his own weight keeps
Infirmary."                                   him down, I should be sorry to contribute to his adThe tenor of this note, as well as the name vancement-to any place but the Pillory." —p. 11.
and the memory of Warburton, excited in us   In another place, he is pleased to say, under
no small curiosity to peruse the collection; date of 1757, when Mr. Hume's reputation
and, for a moment, we entertained a hope of for goodness, as well as genius, was fillly esfinding this intractable and usurping author tablished:softened down, in the gentler relations of private life, to something of a more amiable and     " There is an epidemic madness amongst us; toenlgag oing form: and when we  found  his right  day we burn with the feverish heat of Superstition;
to-morrow we stand fixed and frozen in Atheism.
reverend correspondent speaking of the play- Expect to hear that the churches are all crowded
fulness of his wit, and the partiality of his next Friday; and that on Saturday they buy ur
friendships, we almost persuaded ourselves, Hume's new Essays; the first of which (and please
that we should find, in these letters, not only you) is The Natural History of Religion, for which
many traits of domestic tenderness and cor- I will trim the rogue's jacket, at least sit upon his
diality, but also some expressions of regret skirts, as you will see when you come hither, and
find his margins scribbled over. In a word, the
for the asperities with which, in the heat and  Essay is to establish an Atheistic naturalism, like
the elation of controversy. he had insulted all Bolingbroke; and he goes upon one of B.'s capital
who were opposed to him.  It seems natural, arguments, that Idolatry and Polytheism were betoo, to expect, that along with the confessions fore the worship of the one God. It is full of abof an author's vanity, we should meet with  surdities; and here I come in with him; for theN
some reflections on his own good fortune, and show themir business, naies:  but, as ow them fools. The
some expressions of contentment and gratitude  say this man has several moral qualities. It may
for the honours and dignities which had been be so. But there are vices of the mind as well
heaped upon him.  In all this, however, we as body; and a TI/ickeder Heart, and more deter.
have been painfully disappointed.  The arro- mined to do public Mischief, I think I never knew."
gance and irritability of Warburton w-as never                                      p. 175.
more conspicuous than in these Letters,-nor    It is natural and very edifying, after all this1
his intolerance of opposition, and his prepos- to find him expressing the most unmeasured
terous estimate of his own merit and import- contempt, even for the historical works of this
ance.  There is some wit-good and bad-  author, and gravely telling his beloved friend,
scattered through them; and diverse frag- who was hammering out a puny dialogue on
ments of criticism: But the staple of the cor- the English constitution, "As to Hume's His.
respondence is his own praise, and that of his tory, you need not fear being forestalled by a
friend, whom he magnifies and exalts, indeed, thousand such writers. But the fear is natural,
in a way that is very diverting.  To him, and as I have often felt, and as often experienced
his other dependants and admirers, and their to be absurd!' We really were not aware
patrons, he is kind and complimentary to ex- either that this History was generally looked
cess; but all the rest of the world he regards upon as an irreligious publication; or that
with contempt and indifference.  The age is there was reason to suspect that Dr. Robertson
a good age or a bad age, according as it ap- had no warm side to religion, more than his
plauds or neglects the Divine Legation and friend. Both these things, however, may be
the Commentary on Horace.  Those who learned from the following short paragraph.
write against these works are knaves and    "Hume has outdone himself in this new history,
drivellers, —and will meet with their reward  in showing his contempt of religion. This is one
in the contempt of another generation, and of those proof charges which Arbuthnot speaks of
the tortures of another world! -Bishoprics in his treatise of political lying, to try how much
and Chancellorships, on the other hand, are  the public will bear. If this history be well received,
too little for those who extol and defend them; *I shall conclude that there is even an end of all prethe  tence to religion. But I should think it will not:
-and Government is reviled for leaving the because I fancy the good reception of Robertson's
press open to Bolingbroke, and tacitly blamed  proceeded from the decency of it."-p. 207.
for not setting Mr. Hume on the pillory.         T
The natural connection of the subject with    The folowing is the liberal commentary
the general remarks which awe have alread   which this Christian divine makes upon Mr.
y Hume's treatment of Rousseau.
premised, leads us to begin our extracts with
a few specimens of that savage alperity to-;It is a truth easily discoverable from his wri.
wards Christiansand Philosophers, upon which  tings, that Hume could have but one motive in
we have felt ourselves called on to pass a bringing him over (for he was under the protection
sentence of reprobation.  In a letter, dated in of Lord Mareshal) and that was, cherishing a man
~~serintence o  erbin           etrde whose writings were as mischievous to society as his
1749, we have the following passage about own. The merits of the two philosophers are soon
Ur. Hume,-                                    adjusted. There is an immense distance between




WVARBURTON'S LETTERS.                                   689
their natural genius: none at all in their excessive   Now. this is not said In jest; but in fierce
vanity; and much again in their good faith. Rous- anger and resentment; and really affords as
seau's warmth has made him act the madman in his wonderful a picture of the temper and liberalphilosophical inquiries, so that he oft saw not the
ai~schief which he did:  Hume's coldness made him  ity of a Christian divine, as some of the disputes
sot only see but rejoice in his. But it is neither parts among the grammarians do of the irritability
nor logic that has made either of them philosophers, of a mere man of letters.  The contempt, inbut Infidelity only. For which, to be sure, they deed; with which he speaks of his answerers,
both equally deserve a PENSION."-pp. 286, 287.   who were in general learned divines, is equally
After all this, it can surprise us very little  keen and cutting with that which he evinces
to hear him  call Voltaire a scoundrel and a towards Hume and Bolingbroke. He himself
liar; and, in the bitterness of his heart, qua- knew  ten thousand faults in his work; but
lify Smollett by the name of "a vagabond  they have never found one of them.  Nobody
Scot, who wrote nonsense,"-because people has ever answered him  yet, but at their own
had bought ten thousand copies of his History, expense; and some poor man whom he menwhile the Divine Legation began to lie heavy  tions "must share in the silent contempt
on the shelves of his bookseller.  It may be with which I treat my answerers."  This is
worth while, however, to see how this ortho- his ordinary style in those playful and affecdox prelate speaks of the church and of tionate letters.  Of kno'wn and celebrated
churchmen. The following short passage will individuals, he talks in the same tone of disgive the reader some light upon the subject; gusting arrogance and animosity. Dr. Lowth,
and also serve to exemplify the bombastic the learned and venerable Bishop of London,
adulation which the reverend correspondents had occasion to complain of some misrepreinterchanged with each other, and the coarse  sentations in Warburton's writings, relating
but robust wit by which Warburton was cer- to the memory of his father; and, after some
tainly distinguished.                         amicable correspondence, stated the matter to
the public in a short and temperate pamphlet.
"You were made for higher things: and my Here is the manner in which he is treated for
greatest pleasure is, that you give me a hint you..
are impatient to pursue them. What will not such it in this Episcopal correspondence.
a capacity and such a pen do, either to shame or to
improve a miserable age! The church, like the     All you say about Lowth's pamphlet breathes
Ark of Noah, is worth saving; not for the sake of the purest spirit of friendship.  His wit and his
the unsclean beasts and vermin that almost filled it reasoning. God knows, and 1 also (as a certain critic
l~eand probably made mosea  t noise and clamour in it, said once in a matter of the like great importance),
and probably made most noise and clamour in it, are much below the qualities that deserve those
but for the little corner of rationality, that was as  are much below the   qualitnes that deserve those
much distressed by the stink within, as by the tem. n But the strangest ihingof all, is this man's
estch distressed by the sto p   within, as by the tem   boldness in publishing my letters without my leave
est without."-pp. 83, 84.  or knowledge.  I remember several long letters
In another place, he says, "I am  serious passed between us. And I remember you saw the
upon it. I am afraid that both you and I shall letters. But I have so totally forgot the contents,
outlive common sense as well as learning, in that I am at a loss for the meaning of these words.
outlive common sense, as well as learning, in    "In a word, you are right.-If he expected an
our reverend brotherhood;"  and afterwards answer, he will certainly find himself disappointed:
complains, that he has laboured all his life to though I believe I could make as good sport with
support the cause of the clergy, and been re- this Devil of a vice, for the public diversion, as ever,
paid with nothing but ingratitude. In the close was made with him, in the old Moralities."
of another letter on the same subject, he says,                              pp. 273 274.
with a presumption, which the event has al-   Among the many able men who thought
ready made half ridiculous, and half melan- themselves called upon to expose his errors.
choly, "Are not you and I finely employed?  and fantasies, two of the most distinguished
-but, Serimus arbores. alteri qua seculo pro- were Jortin and Leland.  Dr. Jortin had obsunt."                                        jected to Warburton's theory of the Sixt4
But these are only general expressions, AEneid; and Dr. Leland to his notion of the
arising, perhaps, from  spleen or casual irrita- Eloquence of the Evangelists; and both with,
tion.  Let us inquire how he speaks of indi- great respect and moderation.  Warburton
viduals. It would be enough, perhaps, to say, would not, or could not answer; — but his.
that except a Dr. Balguy, we do not remember faithful esquire was at hand; and two anonyof his saying any thing respectful of a single mous pamphlets, from the pen of Dr. Richard!
clergyman' throughout the whole volume.-  Hurd, were sent forth, to extol Warburton,
The following is a pretty good specimen of and his paradoxes, beyond the level of a
the treatment which was reserved for such of mortal; to accuse Jortin of envy, and to conthem  as dared to express their dissent from  vict Leland of ignorance and error. Leland
hio paradoxes and fancies.                    answered for himself; and, in the opinion of
all the world, completely demolished his an-.
" What could make that important blockhead all the world, completely demolished his an,:t. know whom) preach against me at St. James'? tagonist. Jortin contented himself with laughHe never met me at Court, or at Powis or New- ing at the weak and elaborate irony of the
castle-House. And what was it to him, whether Bishop's anonymous championI and with wonthe Jews had a future life? It might be well for dering at his talent for perversion. Hurd never
such as him, if the Christians had none neither! —  owned either of these malignant pamphlets:
Nor, I dare say, does he much trouble himself about -and in the life of his friend, no notice what.
the matter, while he stands foremost,amongst you, in
the new Land of Promise; which, however, to the ever was taken of this inglorious controversy
mortification of these modern Jews, is a little dis-  What would have been better forgotten, howant from that of performance."-p. 45.         ever, for their ioint reputation, i;i injudiciously
44




690                                MISCELLANEOUS.
brought back to notice in the volume now be- ing, than the immediate prospect of this
fore us; -and Warburrton is proved by his learned man's death) who had once been his
letters to have entered fully into all the paltry  friend, that he gives vent to this liberal imkeenness of his correspondent, and to have putation.
indulged a feeling of the most rancorous hos-     Had he had, I will not say piety, but greatness
tility towards both these excellent and accom- of mind enough not to suffer the pretended injuries
plished men.  In one of his letters he says, of some churchmen to prejudice him against reli.
"I will not tell you how much I am obliged gion, I should love him living, and honour his
to you for this correction of Leland.  I have  memory when dead. But, godlI God! that man,
desired Colonei t-arvey to get it reprinted in  for the4discourtesies done him by his miserable
Dublin, which I tl,.9k hut a proper return for fellow-creatures, should be content to divest him
self of the true viaticum, the comfort, the solace,
Leland's favour in Lon_'on."   We hear noth- the asylum, &c. &c. is perfectly astonishing. 1
ing mo,-e, however, on this subject, after the believe no one (all things considered) has suffered
publication of Dr. Leland's reply.             more from the low and vile passions of the high and
With regard to Jortin, again, he says, "Next low amongst our brethren than myself. Yet, God
to the pleasure of seeing myself so finely forbid, &c."-pp. 40, 41.
praised, is the satisfaction I take in seeing    When divines of the Church of England
Jortin mortified.  I know to what degree it are spoken of in this manner, it may be supwill do it; and he deserves to be mortified. posed that Dissenters and Laymen do not
One thing I in good earnest resented for its meet with any better treatment.  Priestley,
baseness," &c.  In another place, he talks of accordingly, is called " a wretched fellow;"
his "mean, low, and ungrateful conduct;"  and Dr. Samuel Johnson, who, in spite of
and adds, "Jortin is as vain as he is dirty, to considerable temptations to thie contrary, had
imagine that I am obliged'to him,"' &c. And, spoken with great respect of him, both in his
after a good deal more about his " mean, low  preface to Shakespeare and in his notes, is
envy," "the rancour of his heart," his " self- thus rewarded by the meek and modest eccleimportance," and other good qualities, he  siastic for his forbearance.
speaks in this way of his death" The remarks he makes in every page on my
"I see by the papers that Jortin is dead. His commentaries, are full of insolence and malignant
overrating his abilities, and the public's underra- reflections, which, had they not in them as much
ting them, made so gloomy a temper eat, as the an- folly as malignity, I should have had reason to be
cients expressed it, his own heart. If his death dis- offended with. As it is, I think myself obliged to
tresses his own family, I shall be heartily sorry for him in thus setting before the public so many of
this accident of mortality. If not, there is no loss- my notes with his remarks upon them; for, though
even to himself!" —p. 340.                    I have no great opinion of that trifling part of the
public, which pretends to judge of this part of
That the reader may judge how far con- literature, in which boys and girls decide, yet I
troversial rancour has here distorted the fea- think nobody can be mistaken in this comparison;
tures of an adversary, we add part of an  though I think their thoughts have never yet exadmirable character of Dr. Jortin, drawn by  tended thus far as to reflect, that to discover the
ane who had  good occasion to know him, as corruption in an author's text, and by a happy sae who had good occasion to know him  as gacity to restore it to sense, is no easy task: But: appeared in a work in which keenness, when the discovery is made, then to'cavil at the
V-ndour, and erudition are very singularly  conjecture, to propose an equivalent, and defend:-lended.   " He had a heart which never dis- nonsense, by producing, out of the thick darkness'"aced the powers of his understanding.-  it occasions, a weak and faint glimmering of sense'With a lively imagination and an elegant (which has been the business of this Editor through
taste heout) is the easiest, as well as dullest of all literary
taste, he united the artless and amiable negli- efforts." —pp. 272, 273.
gence of a schoolboy. Wit without ill-nature,
and sense without effort, he could, at will,   It is irksome transcribing more of these
scatter on every subject; and, in every book, insolent and vindictive personalities; and we. e writer presents us with a near and dis- believe we have alreadyextracted enough, to
tint view  of the man.  He had too much  satisfy our readers as to the probable effect
disce:nment to confound difference of opinion  of this publication, in giving the world a just
with malignity or dulness; and too much can- impression of the amiable, playful and afdour to insult, where he could not persuade. fectionate character of this learned prelate.
He carried with him into every subject which It is scarcely necessary, for this purpose, to
he explored, a solid greatness of soul, which  refer to any of his pathetic lamentations over
could spare an inferior, though in the offen- his own age, as a " barbarous age.;" ait  ira
sive form  of an adversary, and endure an pious age," and "a dark age," —to quote 1:;
equal] with or without the sacred name of a murmurs at the ingratitude with which 1ih,
friend.))*                                     own labours had been rewarded, —or, indeed.
Dr. Middleton, too, had happened to differ to do more than transcribe his sage and magfrom  some of Warburton's opinions on the nanimous resolution, in the year 1768, to be-'rigin of Popish ceremonies; and accordingly  gin to live for himself —having already live
ht is very charitably represented as having for others longer than they had deserved of
renounced his religion in a pet, on account of him."  This worthy and philanthropic person
the discourtesy of his brethren in the church. had by this time preached and written himIt is on an occasion no less serious and touich- self into a bishopric and a fine estate; and,
at the same time, indulged himself in ever)
* See preface i Two Tracts by a Warburtonian. sort of violence and scurrility.against those
p. 194.                                       from whose oninions he dissented.  In them




WARBURrON'S LETTERS.                                     69.
circumstances, -'e really are not aware either ready to run back naked to tho deserts, as on the
how he could have lived more for himself, or Mediterranean coast of Africa, These, tell him,
less for others, than he had been all along  are the grand scenes for the true philosopher, for
doing. But we leave now the painful task of the citizen of the world, to contemplate.  The
Tour of Europe is like the e.nertainment that Plucommenting upon this book, as a memorial tarch speaks of, which Pompey's host of Epirus
of his character; and gladly turn to those parts gave him. There were many dishes, and they had
of it, from which our readers may derive more  a seeming variety; but when he came to examine
unmingled amusement.                           them narrowly, he found them all made out of one
hog, and indeed nothing but pork differently disThe wit which it contains is generally strong gutsed.
and coarse, with a certain mixture of profanity    "Indeed I perfectly agree with you, that a scholar
which does not always seem to consort well by profession, who knows how to employ his time
with the episcopal character. There are some in his study, for the benefit of mankind, would be
allusions to the Lady of Babylon, which we more than fantastical, he would be mad, to go ramdare not quote in our Presbyterian pages. The bling round Europe, though his fortune would pereader however, may take the following  m him. For to travel with profit, must be when
his faculties are at the height, his studies matured,
"Poor Job! It was his eternal fate to be perse- and all his reading fresh in his head.  But to
cuted by his friends. His three comforters passed  waste a considerable space of time, at such a period
sentence of condemnation upon him; and he has of life, is worse than suicide. Yet, for all this, the
been executing in effigie ever since. He was first knowledge of human nature (the only knowledge,
bound to the stake by a long catena of Greek in the largest sense of it, worth a   wise man's conFathers; then tortured by Pineda! then strangled  cern or care) can never be well acquired without
bIy Caryl; and afterwards cut up by Westley, and seeing it under all its disguises and distortions, ariamenan atomised by Garnet.  Pray, don't reckon me sing from absurd governments and monstrous reliamongst his hangmen. I only acted the tender gions, in every quarter of the globe.'herefore, I
part of his wife, and was for making short work with  think a collection of the best voyages no despicable
him! But he was ordained, I think, by a fate like part of a philosopher's library. Perhaps there will
that of Prometheus, to lie still upon his dunghill, be found more dross in this sort of literature, ever
and have his brains sucked out by owls.  One when selected most carefully, than in any other.
Hodges, a head of Oxford, now threatens us with a But no matter for that; such a collection will connew Auto de.Fc."-p. 22.                       tain a great and solid treasure."-pp. 111, 112.
We have already quoted one assimilation    These, we think, are favourable specimens
of the Church to the Ark of Noah.  This idea of wit, and of power of writing.  The bad
is pursued in the following passage, which  jokes, however, rather preponderate.  There
is perfectly characteristic of the force, the is one brought in, with much formality, about
vulgarity, and the mannerism of Warburton's his suspicions of the dunces having stolen the
writing:-                                      lead off the roof of his coachhouse; and two
"' You mention Noah's Ark. I have really for- or three absurd little anecdotes, which seem
got what I said of it. But I suppose I compared    have no pretensions to pleasantry-but
the Church to it, as many a grave divine has done that they are narratives, and have no serious
before me.-The rabbins make the giant Gog or meaning.
Magog contemporary with Noah, and convinced by    To pass from wit, however, to more serious
his preaching; so that he was disposed to take the matters, we find, in this volume, some very
benefit of the ark. But here lay the distress; it by striking proofs of the  extent and iligence o
no means suited his dimensions.  Therefore, as  this author's  of th    e extent and ding, particuhe could not enter in, he contented himself to ride this author's miscellaneous reading, particuupon it astride. And though you must suppose larly in the lists and characters of the authors
that, in that stormy weather, he was more than  to whbom  he refers his friend as authorities
half-boots over, he kept his seat and dismounted  for a history of the English constitution.  In
safely, when the ark landed on Mount Ararat.-  this part of his dialogues, indeed, it appears
Image now to yourself this illustrious Cavalier that Hurd has derived the whole of his learnmounted on his hackney: and see if it does not bring ing,and most of his opinions, from Warburton.
before you the Church, bestrid by some lumpis      and most of his 
minister of state, who turns and winds it at his The following remarks on the continuation of
pleasure. The only difference is, that Gog believed  Clarendon's History are good and liberal:the preacher of righteousness and religion."
pp. 87, 88.    "Besides that business, and age, and misfortunes
The following is in a broader and more am-  ad properly th e  history ofs the Cfiont sinuation is not
bitious style,-yet still peculiar and forcible. Charles the Second, as an anxious apology for the
After recommending a tour round St. James' share himself had in the administration. This has
Park, as far more instructive than the grand  hurt the composition in several respects. Amongst
tour, he proceeds-                             others, he could not, with decency, allow his pen
that scope in his delineation of the chief characters
"This is enough for any one who only wants to of the court, who were all his personal enemies, as
study men for his use. But if our aspiring friend he had done in that of the enemies to the King and
would go higher, and study human nature, in aid monarchy in the grand rebellion. The endeavour to
for itself, he must take a much larger tour than that keep up a show of candour, and especially to preof Europe. He must first go and catch her::n- vent the appearance of a rancorous resentment, has
dressed, nay, quite naked, in North America, and deadened his colouring very much, besides that it
at the Cape of Good Hope. He may then examine made him sparing in the use of it; else, his inimithow she appears cramped, contracted, and buttoned able pencil had attempted, at least, to do justice to
close up in the straight tunic of law and custom, as Bennet, to Berkley, to Coventry, to the nightly
in China and Japan; or spread out, and enlarged cabal of facetious memory, to the Lady, and, if his
above her common size, in the long and flowing excessive loyalty had not intervened, to his inrobe of enthusiasm amongst the Arabs and Sara- famous master himself. With all this, I am apt to
cens; or, lastly, as she flutters in the old rags of think there may still be something in what I saia
worn-out policy and civil government, and almost of the nature of the subject. Exquisite virtue anc




692                                  MISCELLANEOUS.
enormous vice afford a fine field for the historian's memory, we think it our duty to lay one o,
genius. And hence Livy and Tacitus are, in their them at least before our readers. Warburtoi
way, perhaps equally entertaining. But the little had slippedin his garden, and hurt his arm
intrigues of a selfish court, about carrying, or de- whereupon thus inditeth the obsequious Dr
feating this or that measure, about displacing this
and bringing in that minister, which interest no- Hurd:
body very much but the parties concerned, can
hardly be made very striking by any ability of the    " I thank God that  with some assurp
relator. If Cardinal de Retz has succeeded, his ance, congratulate with myself on the prospect ot
scene was busier, and *of a another nature from* your Lordship's safe and speedy recovery from
that of Lord Clarendon."-p. 217.               y, ur sad disaster.
" Mrs. Warburton's last letter was a cordial to
His account of Tillotson seems also to be  me; and, as the ceasing of intense pain, so this
fair and judicious.                            abatement of the fears I have been tormented with
for three or four days past, gives a certain alacrity
" As to the Archbishop, he was certainly a virtu- to my spirits, of which your Lordship may look to
ous, pious, humane, and moderate man; which last feel the effects, in a long letter!
quality was a kind of rarity in those times. I think    " And now, supposing, as I trust I may do, that
the sermons published in his lifetime, are fine your Lordship will be in no great pain when you
moral discourses. They bear, indeed, the charac- receive this letter, I am tempted to begin, as friends
ter of their author,-simple, elegant, candid, clear, usually do when such accidents befal, with my
and rational. No orator, in ihe Greek and Roman  reprehensions, rather than condolence. I have often
sense of the word, like Taylor; nor a discourser, wondered why your Lordship should not use a cane
in their sense, like Barrow;-free from  their ir- in your walks! which might haply have prevented
regularities, but not able to reach their heights; on this misfortune! especially considering that Heawhich account, I prefer them  infinitely to him. ven, I suppose the better to keep its sons in some
You cannot sleep with Taylor; you cannot forbear sort of equality, has thought fit to make your outthinking with Barrow; but you may be much at ward sight by many degrees less perfect than your
your ease in the midst of a long lecture from Til- inward. Even I, a young and stout son of the
lotson, clear, and rational, and equable as he is. church, rarely trust my firm steps into my garden,
Perhaps the last quality may account for it."  without some support of this kind! How' improvipp. 93, 94.   dent, then, was it in a father of the church to comThe following observations on the conduct mit his unsteadfast footing to this hazard!" &c.
~~~The following observations on the conduct M~p. 251.
of the comic drama were thrown out for Mr.
Hurd's use, while composing his treatise. We There are many pages written with the
Hurri's use, while composing his treatise. We same vigour of sentiment and expression, and
think they deserve to be quoted, for their same vigour of sentiment and expression, and
clearness and justness:-                       in the same tone of manly independence.
We have little more to say of this curious
"As those intricate Spanish plots have been in volume.  Like all Warburton's writings, it
use, and have taken both with us and some French  bears marks of a powerful understanding and
writers for the stage, and have much hindered the
main end of Comedy, would it not be worth while an active fancy.  As a memorial of his perto give them a word, as it would tend to the further sonal character, it must be allowed to be at
illustration of your subject? On which you might least faithful and impartial; for it makes us
observe, that when these unnatural plots are used, acquainted with his faults at least, as distinctthe mind is not only entirely drawn off from the ly as with his excellences  and gives indeed
characters by those surprising turns and revolu- the most conspicuous place to the former. It
tions, but characters have no opportunity even of
being called out and displaying themselves; for the has few of the charms, however, of a collecactors of all characters succeed and are embarrassed tion of letters — no anecdotes-no traits of
alike, when the instruments for carrying on designs simplicity or artless affection; —nothing of
are only perplexed apartments, dark entries, dis- the softness, grace, or negligence of Cowper's
guised habits, a nd ladders of ropes. The comic correspondence-and little of the lightness or
plot is, and must indeed be, carried on by deceit. th  elegant prattlement of Popes or Lady
The Spanish scene does it by deceiving the man the e n
through his senses;-Terence and Moliere, by de- Mary Wortley's.  The writers always appear
ceiving him through his passions and affections. busy, and even laborious persons,-and perAnd this is the right way; for the character is not sons who hate many people, and despise many
called out under the first species of deceit,-under more.-But they neither appear very happy,
we second, the character does all." —p. 57.    nor very amiable; and, at the en  of the
There are a few of Bishop Hurd's own let- book, have excited no other interest in the
ters in this collection; and as we suppose they  reader, than as the authors of their respective
were selected with a view to do honour to his publications.




LIFE OF LORD CHARLEMONT.                               693
(November, 1811.)
Memoirs of the Political and Private Life of James Caulfield, Earl of Charlemont, Knight qf
St. Patrick, ic.'c. By FRANCIS HARDY, Esq., Member of the House of Commons in the
three last Parliaments of Ireland. 4to. pp. 426. London: 1810.*
THIS is the life of a Gentleman, written by with anxious and uninterestin  details, and,
r Gentleman, — and, considering the tenor of at another, omitting even such general and
many of our late biographies, this of itself is summary notices of the progress of events as
no slight recommendation. But it is, more- are necessary to connect his occasional narra.
over, the life of one who stood foremost in tives and reflections.
the political history of Ireland for fifty years   The most conspicuous and extraordinary
preceding her Union,-that is, for the whole of his irregularities, however, is that of his
period during which Ireland had a history or style;-which touches upon all the extremes
politics of her own —written by one who was of composition, almost in every page, or every
a witness and a sharer in the scene,-a man paragraph;-or rather, is entirely made up of
of fair talents and liberal views, —and distin- those extremes, without ever resting for an
guished, beyond all writers on recent politics instant in a medium, or affording any pause
that we have yet met with, for the handsome for softening the effects of its contrasts and
and indulgent'terms in which he speaks of transitions. Sometimes, and indeed most frehis political opponents. The work is enliven-'quently, it is familiar, loose and colloquial,
ed, too, with various anecdotes and fragments beyond the common pitch of serious converof the correspondence of persons eminent for sation; at other times by far too figurative,
talents, learning, and political services in both rhetorical, and ambitious, for the sober tone
countries; and with a great number of char- of history. The whole work indeed bears
acters, sketched with a very powerful, though more resemblance to the animated and versomewhat too favourable hand, of almost all satile talk of a man of generous feelings and
who distinguished themselves, during this mo- excitable imagination, than the mature promentous period, on the scene of Irish affairs. duction of an author who had diligently corFrom what we have now said, the reader rected his manuscript for the press, with the
will conclude that we think very favourably fear of the public before his eyes. There is
of this book: And we do think it both enter- a spirit about the work, however,-independtaining and instructive.  But (for there is ent of the spirit of candour and indulgence of
always a but in a Reviewer's praises) it has which we have already spoken,-which re.
also its fahlts and imperfections; and these, deems many of its faults; and, looking upon
alas! so great and so many, that it requires it in the light of a memoir by an intelligent
all the good nature we can catch by sympathy  contemporary, rather than a regular history or
from  the author, not to treat him now and profound dissertation, we think that its value
then with a terrible and exemplary severity. will not be injured by a comparison with any
He seems, in the first place, to have begun  work of this description that has been recently
and ended his book, without ever forming an  offered to the public.
idea of the distinction between private and    The part of the work which relates to Lord
public history; and sometimes tells us stories Charlemont individually, - though by no
about Lord Charlemont, and about people means the least interesting, at least in its adwho were merely among his accidental ac- juncts and digressions,-may be digested into
quaintance, far too long to find a place even a short summary. He was born in Ireland in
in a biographical memoir;-and sometimes 1728; and received a private education, unenlarges upon matters of general history, with der a succession of preceptors, of various
which Lord Charlemont has no other connec- merit and assiduity. In 1746 he went abroad
tion, than that they happened during his life, without having been either at a public school
with a minuteness which would not be toler- or an university; and yet appears to have
ated in a professed annalist. The biography been earlier distinguished, both for scholaragain is broken, not only by large patches of ship and polite manners, than most of the inhistorical matter, but by miscellaneous reflec- genuous youths that are turned out by these
tions, and anecdotes of all manner of persons; celebrated seminaries. He remained on the
while, in the historical part, he successively Continent no less than nine years; in the
makes the most unreasonable presumptions course of which, he extended his travels to
~n the reader's knowledge, his ignorance, and  Greece, Turkey, and Egypt; and formed an
his curiosity,-overlaying him, at one time, intimate and friendly acquaintance with the
celebrated David Hume, whom he met both
I reprint only those parts of this paper which at Turin and Paris-the President Montesrelate to the personal history of Lord Charlemont, quieu-the Marchese Maffei —Cardinal Albani
and some of his contemporaries: —with the excep- -Lord Rockingham-the Duc de Nivernoistion of one brief reference to the revolution of and various other eminent persons. He ha
1782, which I retain chiefly to introduce a remarkable letter of Mr. Fox's on the formation rather a dislike to the French national characand principles of the new government, of that ter; though he admired their literature, and
year.                                     the general politeness of their manners.




694                              MISCELLANEOUS.
In 1755 he returned to his native country, which  his youth had been delighted, and
at the age of twenty-eight; an object of in- those patriotic duties to which he had devoted
terest and respect to all parties, and to allindi- his middle age. The sittings of the Irish
viduals of consequence in the kingdom. His Academy, over which he presided from its
intimacy with Lord John Cavendish naturally first foundation, were frequently held at Chardisposed him to be on a good footing with his lemont House; —and he always extended the
brother, who was then Lord Lieutenant; and most munificent patronage to the professors of
"the outset of his politics,"' as he has himself art, and the kindest indulgence to youthful
observed  "gave reason to suppose that his talents of every description. His health had
life would be much more courtly than it prov- declined gradually from about the year 1790;
ed to be."  The first scene of profligacy and and he died in August 1799,-esteemed and
court intrigue, however, which he witnessed, regretted by all who had had any opportunity
determined him to act a more manly part-  of knowing him, in public or in private, as a
"to be a Freeman," as Mr..Hardy says, "in friend or as an opponent.-Such is the sure
the purest sense of the word, opposing the reward of honourable sentiments, and mild
court or the people indiscriminately, when- and steady principles!
ever he sa.w them adopting erroneous or mis-   To this branch of the history belongs a conchievous opinions."  To this resolution, his siderable part of the anecdotes and characters
biographer adds. that he had the virtue and with which the book is enlivened; and, in a
firmness to adhere; and the consequence was. particular manner those which Mr. Hardy
that he was uniformly in opposition to the has given, in Lord Charlemont's own words,
court for the long remainder of his life!  from the private papers and memoirs which
Though very regular in his attendance on have been put into his hands. His Lordship
the Irish Parliament, he always had a house in appears to have kept a sort of journal of every
London, where he passed a good part of the thing interesting that befel him through life,
winter, till 1773; when feelings of patriotism  and especially during his long residence on
and duty induced him to transfer his residence the Continent. From this document Mr. Haralmost entirely to Ireland. The polish of his dy has made copious extracts, in the earlier
manners, however, and the kindness of his part of his narrative; and the general style of
disposition,-his taste for literature and the them  is undoubtedly very creditable to the
arts, and the unsuspected purity and firmness noble author, —a little tedious, perhaps, now
of his political principles, had before this time and then,-and generally a little too studiously
secured him the friendship of almost all the and maturely composed, for the private medistinguished men who adorned England at moranda of a young man of talents; —but
this period. With Mr. Fox, Mrs. Burke, and always in the style and tone of a gentleman,
Mr. Beauclerk- Sir Joshua Reynolds, Dr. and with a character of rationality, and calm
Johnson, Sir William  Chalmers-and many indulgent benevolence, that is infinitely more
others of a similar character-he was always pleasing than sallies of sarcastic wit, orperiodi
particularly intimate. During the Lieuten- of cold-blooded speculation.
ancy of the Earl of Northumberland, in 1772,   One of the first characters that appears on
he was, without any solicitation, advanced to the scene, is our excellent countryman, the
the dignity of an Earl; and was very much celebrated David Hume, whom Lord Charledistinguished and consulted during the short mont first met with at Turin, in the year 1750:
period of the Rockingham administration; —  -and of whom he has given an account rather
though neither at that time, nor at any other, more entertaining, we believe, than accurate.
invested with any official situation. In 1768, We have no doubt, however, that it records
he married; and( in 1780, he was chosen Gene- with perfect fidelity the impression which he
ral of the Irish Volunteers, and conducted him- then received from the appearance and conself in that delicate and most important com- versation of that distinguished philosopher.
mand, with a degree of temper and judgment, But, with all our respect for Lord Charlemont,
liberality and firmness, which we have no we cannot allow a young Irish Lord, on his
doubt contributed, more than any thing else, first visit at a foreign court, to have been pre
both to the efficacy and the safety of that most cisely the person most capable of appreciating
perilous but necessary experiment.  The rest the value of such a man as David Hume;of his history is soon told. He was the early and though there is a great fund of truth in
patron and the constant friend of Mr. Grat- the following observations, we think they iltan; and was the means of introducing the lustrate the character and condition of the
Single-Speech Hamilton to the acquaintance person who makes them, fully as much as
of Mr. Burke. Though very early disposed to that of him to whom they are applied.
relieve the Catholics from a part of their disabilities, he certainly was doubtful of the pru-   "Nature, I believe, never formed any man more
dence, or propriety, of their more recent pre- unlike his real character than David Hume. The
tenson.  Hews fromfirst to lst azea, powers of physiognomy were baffled by his countetensions. He was from first to last a zealous, nance; nor could the most skilful in that science,
active, and temperate advocate for parlia- pretend to discover the smallest trace of the faculmentary reform. He was averse to the Legis- ties of his mind, in the unmeaning features of his
lative Union with Great Britain. He was uni- visage. His face was broad and fat, his mouth
formly steady to his principles, and faithful wide, and without any other expression than that
to his friends; and seems to have divided the of imbecility. His eyes, vacant and spiritless; and
the corpulence of his whole person was far better
latter part of his life pretty equally between fitted to communicate the idea of a turtle-eating al.
those elegant, studies of literature and art by derman, than of a refined philosopher. His speech.




LIFE OF LORD CHARLEMONT.                                      69b
in English, was rendered ridiculous by the broadest " ever showed a mind more truly benefice't. than
Scotch accent; and his French was, if' possible, Hume's whole conduct with regard to Rousseau.
still more laughable; so that wisdom, rmiost certain- That story is too well known to be repeated; and
iy, never disguised herself before in so uncouth a exhibits a striking picture of Hume's heart, whilet
garb. Though now near fifty years old he was it displays the strange and unaccountable vanity and
healthy and strong; but his health and strength, madness of the French, or rather Swiss moralist.
far from  being advantageous to his figure, instead  When first they arrived together from France, hap.
if manly comeliness, had only the appearance of pening to meet with Hume in the Park, I wished
rusticity. His wearing an uniform added greatly  him joy of his pleasing connection; and particularly
to his natural awkwardness; for he wore it like a hinted, that I was convinced he must be perfectly
grocer of the trained bands. Sinclair was a lieuten- happy in his new friend, as their religious opinions
ant-general, and was sent to the courts of' Vienna  were, I believed, nearly similar.'Why no, man,'
and Turin as a military'envoy, to see that their said he,'in that you are mistaken. Rousseau is
quota of troops was furnished by the Austrians and  not what you think him. He has a hankering after
Piedmontese. It was therefore thought necessary  the Bible; and, indeed, is little better than a Christhat his secretary should appear to be an officer; tian, in a way of his own!' -p. 120.
and Hume was accordingly disguised in scarlet.    " In London, where he often did me the honour'I Having thus given an account of his exterior, it to communicate the manuscripts of his additional
is but fair that I should state my good opinion of his Essays, before their publication, I have sometimes,
character. Of all the philosophers of his sect, none, in the course of our intimacy, asked him, whether
I believe, ever joined more real benevolence to its he thought that, if his opinions were universally to
mischievous principles than my friend Hume. His take place, mankind would not be rendered more
love to mankind was universal, and vehement; and  unhappy' than they now were; and whether he did
there was no service he would not cheerfully have  not suppose, that the curb of religion was necessary
done to his fellow-creatures, excepting only that of to human nature?' The objections,' answered he,
suffering them to save their own souls in their own' are not without weight; but error never can proway. He was tender-hearted, friendly, and char- duce good; and truth ought to take place of all conitable in the extreme."-pp. 8, 9.               siderations.' He never failed, indeed, in the midst
His Lordship then tells a story in illustration  of any controversy, to give its due praise to every
thing tolerable that was either said or written
of the philosopher's benevolence, which we  against him. His sceptical turn made him doubt,
have no other reason for leaving out-but that and consequently dispute, every thing; yet was he
we know it not to be true; and concludes a lit- a fair and pleasant disputant. He heard with patle dissertation on the pernicious effects of his tience, and answered without acrimony.  Neither
doctrines, with the following little anecdote; was his conversation at any time offensive, even to
r  with 7 he f l * *    *his more scrupulous companions. His good sense,
of the authenticity of which also, we should  and good nature, prevented his saying any thing
entertain some doubts, did it not seem to have  that was likely to shock; and it was not till he was
fallen within his own personal knowledge.    provoked to argument, that, in mixed companies,
he entered into his favourite topics." —p. 123.
" He once professed himself the admirer of a
young, most beautiful, and accomplished lady, at   Another of the eminent persons of whom
Turin, who only laughed at his passion. One day  Lord Charlemont has recorded his impressions
he addressed her in the usual common-place strain, in his own hand, was the celebrated Montesthat he was abimne, aneaanti.-' Oh! Tour aneanti,' quieu; of whose acquaintance he says, and
replied the lady,'ce n'est en effet qu une operation with some reason, he was more vain, than of
tres-naturelle de votre systeme.' " —p. 10.  w. r
having seen the pyramids of Egypt.  He and
The following passages are from a later part another English gentleman  paid their first
of the journal: but indicate the same turn of visit to him at his seat near Bourdeaux; and
mind in the observer:-                          the following is the account of their introduction:
" Hume'sfashion at Paris, when he was there as
Secretary to Lord Hertford, was truly ridiculous;   "The first appointment with a favourite mistress
and nothing ever marked in a more striking man- could not have rendered our night more restless
ner, the whimsical genius of the French. No man, than this flattering invitation; andthe next morning
from his manners, was surely less formed for their we set out so early, that we arrived at his villa besociety, or less likely to meet with their approba- fore he was risen. The servant showed us into his
tion; but that flimsy philosophy which pervades library; where the first object of curiosity that pre
and deadens even their most licentious novels, was sented itself was a table, at which he had apparently
then the folly of the day. Freethinking and Eng- been reading the night before, a book lying upon
lish frocks were the fashion, and the Anglomanie it open, turned down, and a lamp extinguished.
was the ton du pais. From what has been already  Eager to know the nocturnal studies of this great
said of him, it is apparent that his conversation to philosopher, we immediately flew to the book. It
strangers, and particularly to Frenchmen, could be was a volume of Ovid's Works, containing his
little delightful; and still more particularly, one Elegies; and open at one of the most gallant poems
would suppose to Frenchwomen. And yet, no  of that master of love! Before we could overcome
lady's toilette was complete without Hume's at- our surprise, it was greatly increased by the entendance!  At the opera, his broad, unmeaning  trance of the president, whose appearance and manface was usually seen entre deuxjolis minois. The  ner was totally opposite to the idea which we had
ladies in France give the ton, and the ton, at this formed to ourselves of him. Instead of a grave,
time, was deism; a species of philosophy ill suited  austere philosopher, whose presence might strike
to the softer sex, in whose delicate frame weakness with awe such boys as we were, the person who
is interesting, and timidity a charm. But the women  now addressed us, was a gay, polite, sprightly
in France were deists, as with us they were char- Frenchman; who, after a thousand genteel compliioteers.' How my friend Hume was able to endure  ments, and a thousand thanks for the honour we
the encounter of those French female Titans, I had done him, desired to know whether we would
know not. In England, either his philosophic pride, not breakfast; and, upon our declining the offer,
or his conviction that infidelity was ill suited to having already eaten at an inn not far from the
women, made him always averse from the initia- house,'Come, then,' says he,'let us walk; the
tion of ladies into the mysteries of his doctrine."    day is fine, and I long to show you my villa, as I
-pp. 121, 122.                                  have endeavoured to form it according to the Eng.
"Nothing," adds his Lordship, in anotner place, lish taste, and to cultivate and dress it in the English




696                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
manner., Following him into the farm, we soon seeking, in vain, the wholesome exercise of a
arrived at the skirts of a beautiful wood, cut into strong mind, in desultory reading or con.
walks, and paled round, the entrance to which was temptble dissipation.  His Leter   hoever
larricadoed with a moveable bar, about three feet
high, fastened with a padlock.'Come,' said he,  re delifhtful; and we are extremelyobligea
searching in his pocket,' it is not worth our while to Mr. Hardy, for having favoured us with so
to wait for the key; you. I am sure, can leap as well many of them.  It is so seldom that the pure,
as I can, and this bar shall not stop me.' So saying, animated, and unrestrained language of polite
he ran at the bar, and fairly jumped over it, while  conversation, can be found in a  printed book
we followed him with amazement, though not with- that ee  cannot resist the temptation of trano
out delight, to see the philosopher likely to become  we cannot resist the temptation of tranour play-fellow."-pp. 32, 33.                  scribing a considerable part of the specimens
"In Paris, I have frequently met him in company  before us; which, while they exemplify, in
with ladies, and have been as often astonished at the happiest manner, the perfect style of a
the politeness, the gallantry, and sprightliness of gentleman, serve to illustrate, for more reais behaviour. In a word, the most accomplished, fleeting readers, the various sacrifices that are
the most refined petit-maztre of Paris, could not
have been more amusing, from the liveliness of his generally required for the formation of the
chat, nor could have been more inexhaustible ill envied character to which that style belongs.
that sort of discourse which is best suited to women, A very interesting essay might be written on
than this venerable philosopher of seventy years the unhappiness of those from  whom nature
old. But at this we shall not be surprised, when and fortune seem  to have removed all the
we reflect, that the profound author of L'Esprit des causes of unhappiness
Loix was also author of the Persian Letters, and of   o better assortment of proofs and illusthe truly gallant Temple de Gnide." —p. 36.that no better assortment of proofs and illus
e truly gallant Temple de Gnide-p. 36.  trations could be annexed to such an essay,
The following opinion, from such a quarter,  than some of the following passages.
mnight have been expected to have produced
nore effect than it seems to have done, on so    "I have been but once at the club since you left
varm an admirer as Lord Charlemont: —         England; where we were entertained, as usual, by
Dr. Goldsmith's absurdity. Mr. V. can give you
"In the course of our conversations, Ireland, and an account of it. Sir Joshua intends painting your
ts interests, have often been the topic; and, upon picture over again; so you may set your heart at.hese occasions, I have always found him an advo- rest for some time: it is true, it will last so much
tate for an incorporating Union between that coun- the longer; but then you may wait these ten years
ry and England.'Were I an Irishman,' said he, for it. Elmsly gave me a commission from you'I should certainly wish for it; and, as a general about Mr. Walpole's frames for prints, which is
lover of liberty, I sincerely desire it; and for this perfectly unintelligible: I wish you would explain
plain reason, that an inferior country, connected  it, and it shall be punctually executed. Tlhe Duke
with one much her superior in force, can never be of Northumberland has promised me a pair of his
certain of the permanent enjoyment of constitutional new pheasants for you; but you must wait till all
freedom, unless she has, by her representatives, a the crowned heads in Europe have been served first.
proportional share in the legislature of the superior I have been at the review at Portsmouth. If you
kingdom.' "-Ibid.                              had seen it, you would have owned, that it is a
Of Lord Charlemont's English friends and  pleasant thing tobe aKing. Itis true,       made
associates,  none is represented, perhaps, in  aob of the claret to    w, wo furnished the first
tables with vinegar, under that denomination.
more lively and pleasing colours than Topham  Charles Fox said, that Lord S-wich should have
Beauclerk; to the graces of whose conversa- been impeached! What an abominable world do
tion even the fastidious Dr. Johnson has borne  we live in! that there should not be above half a
such powerful testimony.  Lord Charlemont, dozen honest men in the world, and that one of
and, indeed, all who have occasion to speak  those should live in Ireland. You will, perhaps,
of him, represent him as more accomplished  be shocked at the small portion of honesty that I
f him  represent him as more accomplished  allot to your country: but a sixth part is as much
and agreeable in society, than any man of his as comes to its share;  and, for any thing I know to
age-of exquisite taste, perfect good-breeding, the contrary, the other five may be in Ireland too;
and unblemished integrity and honour.  Un- for I am sure I do not know where else to find them.
disturbed, too, by ambition, or political ani-   "I am rejoiced to find by your letter than Lady
mosities, and at his ease with regard to for- C. is as you wish. I have yet remaining so much.tune, henmight appear be pre ad the very  benevolence towards mankind, as to wish that there
tune, he might appear to be placed at the very  may be a son of your's, educated by you, as a specisummit of human felicity, and to exemplify  men of what mankind ought to be. Goldsmith, the
that fortunate lot to which common destinies other day, put a paragraph into the newspapers, in
afford such various exceptions.                 praise of Lord Mayor'I'ownshend. The same night
But there is no such lot. This happy man, we happened to sit next to Lord Shelburne, at
so universally acceptable, and with such re  Drury Lane. I mentioned the circumstance of
sources in himself was devoure-d by e.. the paragraph to him. He said to Goldsmith, that
sources in himsel~f was devoured by ennui! he hoped that he had mentioned nothing about
and probably envied, with good reason, the  Malagrida in it.'Do you know,' answered Goldcondition of one half of those laborious and  smith,'that I never could conceive the reason why
discontented beings who looked up to him  they call you Malagrida; for Malagrida was a very
with envy and admiration. He was querulous, good sort of man.' You see plainly what he meant
Lord Charlemont assures us-indifferent to say; but that happy turn of expression is pecuLord Charlemont assures us -- indifferent, and  liar to himself. Mr. Walpole says, that this story
internally contemptuous to the greater part of  is a picture of Goldsmith's whole life. Johnson
the world;-and, like so many other accom- has been confined for some weeks in the Isle of
plished persons, upon whom the want of em- Skye,  We hear that he was obliged to swim over
ployment has imposed the heavy task of self- to the main land, taking hold of a cow's tail. Be
occupation, he passed his life in a languid  that as it may, Lady Di. has promised to make a
drawing of it.  Our poor club is in a miserable
and unsatisfactory  manner; absorbed some-  decay; unless you come and relieve it, it will certimes in play, and sometimes in study; and  tainlyexpire.  Would you imagine. that SirJoshna




LIFE OF LORD CHARLEMONT.                                      697
Reynolds is extremely anxious to be a member of Rockingham, upon the warm recommendation of
Almack's?  You see what noble ambition will many friends, had appointed Burke his secretary,
make a man attempt. That den is not yet opened, the Duke of Newcastle informed him, that he had
consequently I have not been there; so, for the unwarily taken into his service a man of dangerous
present, I am  clear upon that score. I suppose principles, and one who was by birth and education
orour confounded Irish politics take up your whole a papist and a jacobite; a calumny founded upon
attention at present; but we cannot do without Burke's Irish connections, which were most of
you. If you do not come here, I will bring all the them of that persuasion, and upon some juvenile
club over to Ireland, to live with you, and that will follies arising from those connections.  The Mardrive you here in your own defence. Johnson shall quis, whose genuine Whiggism was easily alarmed,
spoil your books, Goldsmith pull your flowers, and immediately sent for Burke, and told him what he
Boswell talk to you. Stay then if you can. Adieu, had heard. It was easy for Burke, who had been
mny dear Lord."-pp. 176, 1-77, 178.             educated at the university at Dublin, to bring testi" I saw a letter from Foote, the other day, with  monies to his protestantism; and with regard to the
an account of an Irish tragedy. The subject is second accusation, which was wholly founded on
Manlius; and the last speech which he makes, the former, it was soon done away; and Lord
when he is pushed off from the Tarpeian Rock, is, Rockingham, readily and willingly disabused, deSweet Jesus, where am I going?' Pray send me dared that he was perfectly satisfied of the falseWord if this is true. We have a new comedy here, hood of the information he had received, and that
which is good for nothing. Bad as it is, however, he no longer harboured the smallest doubt of the
it succeeds very well, and has almost killed Gold- integrity of his principles; when Burke, with an
smith with envy. I have no news, either literary  honest and disinterested boldness, told his Lordship
or political, to send you. Every body, except my- that it was now no longer possible for him to be his
self, and about a million of vulgars, are in the secretary; that the reports he had heard would
country. I am closely confined, as Lady Di. expects probably, even unknown to himself, create in his
to be so every hour."-p. 178.                   mind such suspicions, as might prevent his tho" Why should you be vexed to find that mankind  roughly confiding in him; and that no earthly con.
are fools and knaves?  I have known it so long, sideration should induce him  to stand in that relathat every fresh instance of it amuses me, provided  tion with a man who did not place entire confidence
it does not immediately affect my friends or myself' in him. The Marquis, struck with this manliness
Politicians do not seem to me to be much greater of sentiment, which so exactly corresponded with
rogues than other people; and as their actions the feelings of his own heart, frankly and positively
affect, in general, private persons less than other assured him, that what had passed, far from leaving
kinds of' villany do, I cannot find that I am so an- any bad impression on his mind, had only served
gry with them. It is true, that the leading men ill to fortify his good opinion; and that, if!romn no
both countries at present, are, I believe, the most other reason, he might rest assured, that from his
corrupt, abandoned people in the nation. But now  conduct upon that occasion alone, he should ever
that I am upon this worthy subject of human na- esteem, and place in him the most unreserved conture, I will inform you of' a few particulars relating  fidential trust-a promise which he faithfully per.
to the discovery of Otaheite."-p. 180.          formed. It must, however, be confessed, that his
" There is another curiosity here,-Mr. Bruce. early habits and connections, though they could
His drawings are the most beautiful things you ever never make him swerve from his duty, had given
saw, and his adventures more wonderful than those his mind an almost constitutional bent towards the
of Sinbad the sailor,-and, perhaps. nearly as true. popish party. Prudence is, indeed, the only virtue
I am much more afflicted with the account you send  he does not possess; from a total want of which,
me of your health, than I am at the corruption of and from the amiable weaknesses of an excellent
your ministers. I always hated politics; and I now  heart, his estimation in England, though still great,
hate them  ten times worse; as I have reason to is certainly diminished." -pp. 343, 344.
think that'they contribute towards your ill health.
You do me great justice in thinking, that whatever    We have hitherto kept Mr. Hardy himself
concerns you, must interest me; but as I wish you so much in the back ground, that we think it
most sincerely to be perfectly happy, I cannot bear is but fair to lay before the reader the sequel
to think that the villanous proceedings of others whichhe has furnished to the preceding notice
should make you miserable: for, in that case, un- of Lord Charlemont. The passage is perfectly
douis a member at the Turk's Head  but not till he characteristic of the ordinary colloquial style
is a member at the Turk's Head; but not till he
was a patriot; and you know, if one repents, &c. of the book, and of the temper of the author.
There is nothing new, btut Goldsmith's Retaliation,  Thus far Lord  Charlemont.  Something,
which you certainly have seen. Pray tell Lady  though slight, may be here added. Burke's disCharlemont, from me, that I desire she may keep
Charlemont, from me, that I desire she n-.ay keep iunion, and final rupture with'Mr. Fox, were atyou from politics, as they do children from sweet- union, and final rupture with Mr. Fox, were atmeats, that make them sick.-pp. 181182  tended with circumstances so distressing, so fat
surpassing the ordinary limits of political hostility,
We look upon these extracts as very inter- that the mind really aches at the recollection of
esting and valuable; but they have turned  them. But let us view him, for an instant, in better
out to be so long, that we must cut short this scenes, and better hours. He was social, hospit~~~~~~~out to be so loni,           able, of pleasing access, and most agreeably cornbranch of the history.  We must add,how- municative.  One of the most satisfactory days,
ever, a part of Lord Charlemont's account of perhaps, that I ever passed in my life, was going
Mr, Burke, with fwhom he lived in habits of with him, tete-a-tete, from London to Beconsfield.
the closest intimacy, and continual corres- He stopped at Uxbridge, whilst his horses were
ofeeding; and, happening to meet some gentlemen,
ondence, till his extraordinary breach  oit.. of I know not what nlitia, who appeared to be
nis former political associates in 1792.  Mr. perfect strangers to him, he entered into discourse
Hardy does not exactly know at what periol with them at the gateway of the inn. His converthe following paper, which was found in Lorcl sation, at that moment, completely exemplified
Charlemont's handwriting, was written.          what Johnson said of him-' That you could not
meet Burke for half an hour under a shed, without
"This most amiable and ingenious man was saying that he was an extraordinary man.' He
private secretary to Lord Rockingham. It may not was, on that day, altogether, uncommonly instrucbe superfluous to relate the following anecdote, the tive and agreeable. Every object of the slightest:;uth of which I can assert, and which does honour notoriety, as we passed along, whether of natural
so ilim and his truly noble natron. Soon after Lord  or local history, furnished him with abundant ma.




698                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
terials for conversation. The House at Uxbridge, in this crisis. The volunteers were i: resist. ble,
where the treaty was held during Charles the First's while they asked only for their conutry what
time; the beautiful and undulating grounds of Bul- all th  world saw  she was entitled to:
strode, formerly the residence of Chancellor Jefferies; and Waller's tomb in Beconsfield church. they became impotent the moment they de.
yard, which, before we went home, we visited, and manded more.  They were deserted, at that
whose character, as a gentleman, a poet, and an moment, by all the talent and the respectorator, he shortly delineated, but with exquisite ability which had given them, for a time, the
felicity of genius, altogether gave an uncommon absolute dominion of the country.  The coninterest to his eloquence; and, although one-and- cession of their just rights operated like a
twenty years have now passed since that day, I re- talisman in separating t    patotic from the
tain the most vivid and pleasing recollection of it. talisman in separating the patriotic from the
He reviewed the characters of many statesmen.-  factious: And when the latter afterwards at.
Lord Bath's, whom, I think, he personally knew, tempted to invade the lofty regions of legitiand that of Sir Robert Walpole, which he pour- mate government, they were smitten with in.
trayed in nearly the same words which he used stantaneous discord and confusion, and speed
with regard to that eminent man, in his appeal from  ily dispersed and annihilated from the face of
the Old Whigs to the New. He talked much of
the great Lord Chatham; and, amidst a variety of the land.  These events are big with instrucparticulars concerning him and his family, stated, tion to the times that have come after; and
that his sister, Mrs. Anne Pitt, used often, in her read an impressive lesson to those who have
altercations with him, to say,' That he knew  now to deal with discontents and conventions
nothing whatever except Spenser's Fairy Queen.' in the same country.' And,' continued Mr. Burke,'no matter how that   But if it be certain that the salvation of Irewas said; but whoever relishes, and reads Spenser But if it be certain that the salvation of Ireas he ought to be read, will have a strong hold of land was then owing to the mild, liberal, and
the English language.'  These were his exact enlightened councils of the Rockingham  adwords. Of Mrs. Anne Pitt he said, that she had ministration as a body, it is delightful to see,
the most agreeable and uncommon talents, and was, in some of the private letters which Mr. Hardy
beyond all comparison, the most perfectly eloquent has printed in the volume before us, how corperson he ever heard speak. He always, as he said,   inted n the volume  before us how corlamented that he did not put on paper a conversa- dially the sentiments professed by this mintion he had once with her; on what subject I forget. istry were adopted by the eminent men who
The richness, variety, and solidity of her discourse, presided over its formation. There are letters
absolutely astonished him.*                    to Lord Charlemont, both from Lord Rockingham himself, and from Mr. Fox, which would
Certainly no nation ever obtained such a almost reconcile one to a belief in the possideliverance by such an instrument, and hurt bility of ministerial fairness and sincerity.
itself so little by the use of it; and, if the We should like to give the whole of them
Irish Revolution of 1782 shows, that power here; but as our limits will not admit of that.
and intimidation may be lawfully employed  we must content ourselves with some extracts
to enforce rights which have been refused to from Mr. Fox's first letter after the new min.
supplication and reason, it shows also the ex- istry was formed,-for the tone and style of
treme danger of this method of redress, and  which, we fear, few  precedents have been
the necessity there is for resorting to every left in the office of the Secretary of State.
precaution in those cases where it has become    " My dear Lord,-If I had had occasion to write
indispensable.  Ireland was now saved from  to you a month ago, I should have written with
all the horrors of a civil war, only by two cir- great confidence that you would believe me perfectly
sincere, and would receive any thing that came from.2tne;-h'.7t Ya tme with the partiality of an old acquaintance, and
force which accomplished the redress of her one who acted upon the same political principles. I
grievances, had not been originally raised or hope you will now consider me in the same light;
organised with any view to such an interfer- but I own I write with much more diffidence, as I
ence; and was chiefly guided, therefore, by  aiii much more sure of your kindness to me permen of loyal and moderate characters, who sonally, than of your inclination to listen with fahad taken up arms for no other purpose but vour to any thing that comes from a Secretary of
State. The principal business of this letter is to
the defence of their country against foreign  inform you, that the Dtike of Portland is appointed
invasion: —The other, that the just and rea- Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and Colonel Fitzpatrick
sonable demands to which these leaders ulti- his secretary; and, when I have said this, I need
mately limited their pretensions, were address- not add, that I feel myself, on every private as well
ed to a liberal and enlightened administration, as public account, most peculiarly interested in the
-~too u toa wthd~ w htene    minoerwat ~ success of their administration. That their persons
- too just to withhold, when in power, what and characters are not disagreeable to your Lordthey had laboured to procure when in opposi- ship, I may venture to assure myself, without being
tion, -and too magnanimous to dread the too sanguine; and I think myself equally certain,
effect of conceding, even to armed petitioners, that there are not in the world two men whose
what was clearly and indisputably their due. general way of thinking upon political subjects is
It was the moderation of their first demands, more exactly consonant to your own. It is not,
therefore, too much to desire and hope, that you
and the generous frankness with which they  will at least look upon the administration of such
were so promptly granted, that saved Ireland  men with rather a more favourable eye, and incline
to trust them rather more than you could do most
* I here omit the long abstract which originally of those who have been their predecessors."fllowed, of the Irish parliament and public history, "The particular time of year at which this change
from 1750 to the period of the Union, together with happens, is productive of many great inconveniences,
all the details of the great Volunteer Association in especially as it will be very difficult for the Duke'80, and its fortunate dissolution in 1782-to which of Portland to be at Dublin before your Parliament
emariable event the paragraph which now follows meets; but I cannot help hoping that all reasonable
ud abe text refers.                            men will concur in removing some of these diti




LIFE OF LORD CHARLEMONT.                                       69,
calties, and that a short adjournment will nut be readers one or two specimens of his gift of
denied, if asked. I Jo not throw out this as know- drawing characters; in the exercise of which
ing from any authori.y that it will be proposed, but he generally rises to a sort of quaint and
as an idea that suggests itself to me; and in order                        sort of qua 
to show that I wish to talk with you, and consult brlliant conciseness; and displays a degree
with you in the same frank manner in which I of acuteness and fine observation that are not
should have done before I was in this situation, so to be found in the other parts of his writing.
very new to me. I have been used to think ill of His greatest fault is, that he does not abuse
all the ministers whom I did know, and to suspect any body,-even where the dignity of history,
those whom I did not, that when I am obliged to and of virtue call loudly for such an itfliction.
call myself a minister, I feel as if I put myself into Yet   virtue, call loudly for such an of all his
a very suspicious character; but I do assure you I Yet there is something in the tone of all his
am the very same man, in all respects, that I was delineations, that satisfies us that there is nowhen you knew me, and honoured me with some thing worse than extreme good nature at the
share in your esteem-that I maintain the same bottom of his forbearance.  Of Philip Tisdal,
voninions, and act with the same people.        who was Attorney-general when Lord Charle" Pray make my best compliments to Mr. Grat.
tan, and tell him, that the Duke of Portland and mont first came ito Parliament, he says
Fitzpatrick are thoroughly impressed with the im-   "He had an admirable and most superior underportance of his Approbation, and will do all they can standing; an understanding matured by years-by
to deserve it. I do most sincerely hope, that he long experience-by habits with the best company
may hit upon some line that may be drawn honour- from  his youth-with the bar, with Parliament,
ably and advantageously for both countries; and  with the State.  To this strength of intellect was
that, when that is done, he will show the world that added a constitutional philosophy, or apathy, which
there may be a government in Ireland, of which he never suffered him to be carried away by attach
is not ashamed to make a part. That country can  ment to any party, even his own. Ie byw aen
never prosper, where, what should be the ambition  and things so clearly, even his own. He saw ll te.ofme of honour, is considered as a disora     a nd things so clearly; he understood so well tlhe
>1-sof men o   nrwhole farce and fallacy of life, that it passed before
pp. 217-219.    him like a scenic representation; and, till almost
The following letter from Mr. Burke in the  the close of his days, he went through the world
end of 1789, will be read with more interest  with a constant sunshine of soul, and an inexorable
hend of       1 789 willbe read  w it h more interes   gravity of feature. His countenance was never gay,
when it is recollected that he published his and his mind was never gloomy. He was an able
celebrated Reflections on the French Revolu- speaker, as well at the bar as in the House of Comtion, but a few months after.                   mons, though his diction was very indifferent. He
did not speak so much at length as many of his par" My dearest Lord,-I think your Lordship has liamentary coadjutors, though he knew the whole
acted  with your usual zeal and Judgment in estab- of the subject much better than they did. He was
lishing a Whig club in Dublin.  These meetings not only a good speaker in Parliament, but an exprevent the evaporation of principle in individuals, cellent manager of the House of Commons. He
an~ vaive them joint force, and enliven their exer- -never said too much: and he had great merit in
tion> -'v emulation. You see the matter in its true  what he did not say; for Government was never
light; wiC with your usual discernment. Party is committed by him. He plunged into no difficulty;
absolutely ntcessary at this time. I thought it al- nor did he ever suffer his antagonist to escape from
ways so in this country, ever since I have had any  one."-pp. 78, 79.
thing to do in public business; and I rather fear,
that there is not virtue enough in this period to sup-    Of Hussey Burgh, afterwards Lord Chief
port party, than that party should become necessa- Baron he observes:ry, on account of the want of virtue to support itself
by individual exertions. As to us here, our thoughts    "To those who never heard him, as the fashion of
of every thing at home are suspended by our as- this world in eloquence as in all things soon passes
tonishment at the wonderful spectacle which is ex- away, it may be no easy matter to convey a just
hibited in a neighbouring and rival country. What idea of his style of speaking. It was sustained by
spectators, and what actors! England gazing with  great ingenuity, great rapidity of intellect, luminous
astonishment at a French struggle for liberty, and  and piercing satire; in refinementt abundant, in simnot knowing whether to blame, or to applaud. The plicity sterile. The classical allusions of this orator,
thing, indeed, though I thought I saw something  for he was most truly one, were so apposite, they
like it in progress for several years, has still some- followed each other in such bright and varied sue
what in it paradoxical and mysterious.  The spirit cession, and, at times, spread such an unexpected
it is impossible not to admire; but the old Parisian  and triumphant blaze around his subject, that all
ferocity has broken out in a shocking manner. It persons who were in the least tinged with literais true, that this may be no more than a sudden ex- turo, could never be tired of listening to him; and
plocion; if so, no indication can be taken from it; when in the splendid days of the Volunteer Assobut if it should be character, rather than accident, ciation, alluding to some coercive English laws,
then that people are not fit for liberty-and must and to that institution, then in its proudest array,
have a strong hand, like that of their former mas- he said, in the House of Commons,'That such
ters, to coerce them. Men must have a certain  laws were sown like dragons) teeth,-and sprung
fund of natural moderation to qualify them for free- up in armed men,' the applause which followed,
dom; else it becomes noxious to themselves, and a and the glow of enthusiasm which he kindled in
perfect nuisance to every body else. What will be every mind, far exceed my powers of description."
the event, it is hard, I think, still to say. To form  -pp. 140, 141.
a solid constitution, requires wisdom as well as
spirit; and whether the French have wise heads    Of Gerard Hamilton, he gives as the folamong them, or, if they possess such, whether they  lowing characteristic anecdotes.
have authority equal to their wisdom, is yet to be
seen. In the mean time, the progress of this whole    "The uncommon splendour of his eloquence,
affair is one of the most curious matters of specula  which was succeeded by such inflexible taciturnity
tion that ever was exhibited."-pp. 321, 322.    in St. Stephen's Chapel, became the subject, as
~We should now take our leave of Mr. Hardy~: rmight be supposed, of much, and idle speculation.
The truth is, that all his speeches, whether delivered
— and yet it would not be fair to dismiss hirr  in London or Dublin, were not only prepared, but
from  the scene entirely, without giving oui studied, with a minuteness and exactitude, of which




70C                               MISCELLANEOUS.
those who are only used to the carelessness of mont, in relation to that parliamentary grant,
modern debating, can scarcely form any idea. Lord by which an honour was conferred on an irCharlernont, who had been long and intimately ac- dividual patriot, without place or official sit
quainted with him, previous to his coming to Ireland, often mentioned that he was the only speaker, tion of any kind, and merely for his personal
among the many he had heard, of whom he could merits and exertions, which has in other cases
say, with certainty, that all his speeches, however been held to be the particular and appropriate
long, were written and got by heart. A gentleman, reward of triumphant generals aud commandwell known to his Lordship and Hamilton, assured ers. When the mild and equable temperahim, that he heard Hamilton repeat, no less than ment of Lord C           mind is recolthree times, an oration, which he afterwards spoke                    on      
in the House of Commons, and which lasted almost lected, as well as the caution with which all
three hours. As a debater, therefore, he became his opinions were expressed, we do not know
as useless to his political patrons as Addison was to that a wise ambition would wish for a prouder
Lord Sunderland; and, if possible, he was more or more honourable testimony than is conscrupulous in composition than even that eminent tained in the following short sentences.
man. Addison would stop the press to correct the
most trivial error in a large publication; and Ham.   "Respecting the grant, I know with certainty
ilton, as I can assert on indubitable authority, that Grattan, though he felt himself flattered by
would recall the footman, if, on recollection, any the intention, looked upon the act with the deepest
word, in his opinion, was misplaced or improper, in concern, and did all in his power to deprecate it.
the slightest note to a familiar acquaintance."   As it was found impossible to defeat the design, all
pp. 60, 61. his friends, and I among others, were employed to
No name is mentioned in these pages with'lessen the sum. It was accordingly decreased by
higher or more uniform applause, than that: ione half, and that principally by his positive declat diration, through us, that, if the whole were insisted
of Henry Grattan.  But that distinguished  on, lie would refuse all but a few hundreds, which
person still lives: and Mr. Hardy's delicacy he would retain as an honourable mark of the good.
has prevented him from attempting any de- ness of his country. By some, who look only into
lineation, either of his character or his elo- themselves for information concerning human naquence. We respect his forbearance, and ture, this conduct will probably be construed into
shall folloxv his example:-Yet we cannot gohypocrisy. To such, the excellence and pre-emishall follow his  example:-Yet  we cannot    nency of virtue, and the character of Grattan, are
deny ourselves the gratification of extracting as invisible and incomprehensibe, as the brightness
one sentence from  a letter of Lord Charle- of the sun to a man born blind." —p. 237.
(epte m be, 1 818.)
An Inquiry whether Crime and Misery are produced or prevented by our present System of Prison
Discipline.  Illustrated by Descriptions of the Borough Compter, Tothill Fields Prison, the
Jail at St. Albans, the Jail at Guildford, the Jail at Bristol, the Jails at Bury and Ilchester,
the Maison de Force at Ghent, the Philadelphia Prison, the Penitentiary at Millbank, and the
Proceedings of the Ladies' Committee at Newgate. By THOMAS FOWELL BUXTON. 8vo. p. 171.
London: 1818.
THERE are two classes of subjects whichi But what we mean is, that they are not its
naturally engage the attention of public men, natural occasions, and do not belong to those
and divide the interest which society takes in topics, or refer to those principles, in relation
their proceedings. The one may, in a wide to which the great Parties of a free country
sense, be called Party Politics-the other necessarily arise. One great part of a statesCivil or Domestic Administration.  To the man's business may thus be considered as
former belong all questions touching political Polemic-and another as Deliberative; his
rights and franchises-the principles of the main object in the first being to discomfit and
Constitution-the fitness or unfitness of min- expose his opponents-and. in the second. to
isters, and the interest and honour of the discover the best means of carrying into effect
country, as it may be affected by its conduct ends which all agree to be desirable.
and relations to foreign powers, either in peace   Judging i priori of the relative importance
or war. The latter comprehends most of the or agreeableness of these two occupations,
branches of political economy and statistics, we should certainly be apt to think that the
and all the ordinary legislation of internal latter was by far the most attractive and compolice and regulation; and, besides the two I fortable in itself, as well as the most likely
great heads of Trade and Taxation, embraces I to be popular with the community.  The fact,
the improvements of the civil Code-the care however. happens to be otherwise: For such
of the Poor-the interests of Education. Re- is the excitement of a public contest for influligion, and Morality-and the protection of ence and power, and so great the prize to be
Prisoners, Lunatics, and others who cannot won in those honourable lists, that the highest
claim  protection for themselves.  This dis- talents are all put in requisition for that detinction, we confess. is but coarsely drawn partment, and all their force and splendour
— since every one of the things we have reserved for the struggle: And indeed, when
last enumerated may, in certain circumstan- we consider that the object of this struggle is
ges, be made an occasion of party contention. nothing less than to put the whole power of




BUXTON'S INQUIRY.                                70i
administration into the hands of the victors, paign.  The invtentors of the steam-engine
and thus to enable them not only to engross and the spinning-machine have, beyond all
the credit of carrying through all those bene- question, done much more in our own times,
ficial arrangements that may be called for by not only to increase the comforts and wealth
the voice of the country, but to carry them  of their country, but to multiply its resources
through in their own way, we ought not per- and enlarge its power, than all the Statesmen
haps to wonder, that in the eagerness of this and Warriors who have affected during the
pursuit, which is truly that of the means to all same period, to direct its destiny; and yet,
ends, some of the ends themselves should, while the incense of public acclamation has
when separately presented, appear of inferior been lavished upon the latter-while wealth
moment, and excite far less interest or concern. and honours, and hereditary distinctions, have
But, though this apology may be available been heaped upon them in their lives, and
in some degree to the actors, it still leaves us monumental glories been devised to perpetuat a loss to account fotr he corresponding sen- ate the remembrance of their services, the
timents that are found in the body of the peo- former have been left undistinguished in the
ple, who are but lookers on for the most part crowd of ordinary citizens, and permitted to
In this great scene of contention-and can close their days, unvisited by any ray of pubscarcely fail to perceive, one would imagine, lic favour or national gratitude,-for no other
that their immediate interests were often post- reason that call possibly be suggested, than
poned to the mere gladiatorship of the parties, that their invaluable services were performed
and their actual service neglected, while this without noise or contention, in the studious
fierce strife was maintained as to who should privacy of benevolent meditation, and withbe allowed to serve them. In such circum- out any of those tumultuous accompaniments
stances, we should naturally expect to find, that excite the imagination, or inflame the
that the popular favourites would not be the passions of observant multitudes.
leaders of the opposite political parties, but   The case, however, is precisely the same
those who, without regard to party, came for- with the different classes of those who occupy
ward to suggest and promote measures of ad- themselves with public interests.  He who
mitted utility —and laboured directly to en- thunders in popular assemblies, and consumes
large the enjoyments and advantages of the his antagonists in the blaze of his patriotic
people, or to alleviate the pressure of their eloquence, or withers them with the flash of
necessary sufferings. That it is not so in fact his resistless sarcasm, immediately becomes,
and reality. must be ascribed, we think, partly not merely a leader in the senate, but an idol
to the sympathy which, in a country like this, in the country at large; —whil]f he who by
men of all conditions take in the party feel- his sagacity discovers, by his eloquence recomings of their political favourites, and the sense mends, and by his laborious perseverance ultithey have of the great importance of their mately effects, some great improvement in
success, and the general prevalence of their the condition of large classes of the commuprinciples; and partly, no doubt, and in a nity, is rated, by that ungrateful community,
Ereater degree, to that less justifiable but very as a far inferior personage; and obtains, for
familiar principle of our nature, by which we his nights and days of successful toil, a far
are led, on so many other occasions, to prefer less share even of the cheap reward of popusplendid accomplishments to useful qualities, lar applause than is earned by the other,
and to take a much greater interest in those merely in following the impulses of his own
perilous and eventful encounters, where the ambitious nature. No man in this country
prowess of the champions is almost all that is ever rose to a high political station, or even
to be proved by the result, than in those hum- obtained any great personal power and influbler labours of love or wisdom, by which the ence in society, merely by originating in Parenjoyments of the whole society are multi- liament measures of internal regulation, or
plied or secured.                         conducting with judgment and success imThere is a reason, no doubt, for this also-  provements, however extensive, that did not
and a wise one-as for every other general affect the interests of one or other of the two
law to which its great Author has subjected great parties in the state. Mr. Wilberforce
our being: But it is not the less true, that it may perhaps be mentioned as an exception;
often operates irregularly, and beyond its and certainly the greatness, the long enduprovince,-as may be seen in the familiar rance, and the difficulty of the struggle, which
instance of the excessive and pernicious ad- he at last conducted to so glorious a terminamiration which follows all great achievements tion, have given him a fame and popularity
in War, and makes Military fame so danger- which may be compared, in some respects,
ously seducing, both to those who give and to with that of a party leader. But even Mr.
those who receive it. It is undeniably true, Wilberforce would be at once demolished in
as Swift said long ago, that he who made two a contest with the leaders of party; and could
blades of grass to grow where one only grew  do nothing, out of doors, by his own individua.
before, was a greater benefactor to his country exertions; while it is quite manifest, that the
than all the heroes and conquerors with whom  greatest and most meritorious exertions to ex
its annals are emblazed; and yet it would be tend the reign of Justice by the correction of
ludicrous to compare the fame of the most our civil code-to ameliorate the condition of
successful improver in agriculture with that the Poor —to alleviate the sufferings of the
ot the most inconsiderable soldier who ever Prisoner, —or finally, to regenerate the minds
signalised his courage in an unsuccessful cam- of the whole people by an improved system




70>2                            MISCELLANEOUS.
of Education, will never give a man half the tails of a painful and offensive nature; and an
power or celebrity that may be secured, at indolent sort of optimism, by which we natuany time, by a brilliant speech on a motion rally seek to excuse our want of activity, by
of censure, or a flaming harangue on the charitably presuming that things are as well
boundlessness of our resources, and the glo- as they can easily be made, and that it is
ries of our arms.                         inconceivable that any very flagrant abuses
It may be conjectured already, that with should be permitted by the worthy and hutll due sense of the value of party distinc- mane people who are more Immediately contions, and all possible veneration for the talents cerned in their prevention. To this is added
which they call most prominently into action, a fear of giving offence to those same worthy
we are inclined to think, that this estimate visitors and superintendants-and a still more
of public services might be advantageously potent fear of giving offence to his Majesty's
corrected; and that the objects which would Government; —for though no administration
exclusively occupy our statesmen if they were can really have any interest in the existence
all of one mind upon constitutional questions, of such abuses, or can be suspected of wishought more frequently to take precedence of ing to perpetuate them from any love for them
the contentions to which those questions give or their authors, yet it is but too true that most
rise. We think there is, of late, a tendency long-established administrations have looked
to such a change in public opinion. The na- with an evil eye upon the detectors and retion, at least, seems at length heartily sick of dressors of all sorts of abuses, however little
those heroic vapourings about our efforts for connected with politics or political personsthe salvation of Europe,-which seem to have first, because they feel that their long and
ended in the restoration of old abuses abroad, undisturbed continuance is a tacit reproach on
and the imposition of new taxes at home;-  their negligence and inactivity. in not having
and about the vigour which was required for made use of their great opportunities to disthe maintenance of our glorious constitution, cover and correct them - secondly, because
which has most conspicuously displayed itself all such corrections are innovations upon old
in the suspension of its best bulwarks, and the usages and establishments, and practical ad*
organisation of spy systems and vindictive per- missions of the flagrant imperfection of those
secutions, after the worst fashion of arbitrary boasted institutions, towards which it is their
governments;-and seems disposed to re- interest to maintain a blind and indiscriminate
quire, at the hands of its representatives, some veneration in the body of the people-and,
substantial pledge of their concern for the thirdly, because, if general abuses affecting
general welfare, by an active and zealous co- large classes of the community are allowed to
operation in the correction;bf admitted abuses, be exposed and reformed in any one departand the redress of confessed wrongs.      ment, the people might get accustome'd to look
It is mortifying to the pride of human wis- for the redress of all similar abuses in other
dom, to consider how much evil has resulted departments,-and reform would cease to be a
from the best and least exceptionable of its word of terror and alarm (as most ministers
boasted institutions-and how those establish- think it ought to be) to all loyal subjects.
ments that have been most carefully devised   These, no doubt, are formidable obstacles;
for the repression of guilt, or the relief of mise- and therefore it is, that gross abuses have
ry, have become themselves the fruitful and been allowed to subsist so long. But they are
pestilent sources both of guilt and misery, in so far from being insurmountable, that we are
a frightful and disgusting degree. Laws, with- perfectly persuaded that nothing more is neout which society could not exist, become, by cessary to insure the effectual correction, or
their very multiplication and refinement, a mitigation at least, of all the evils to which we
snare and a burden to those they were intend- have alluded, than to satisfy the public, Ist,
ed to protect, and let in upon us the hateful of their existence and extent-and, 2dlr, of
and most intolerable plagues, of pettifogging, there being means for their effectual redress
chicanery, and legal persecution. Institutions and prevention. Evils that are directly confor the relief and prevention of Poverty have nected with the power of the existing adminthe effect of multiplying it tenfold-hospitals istration-abuses of which they are them.
for the cure of Diseases become centres of selves the authors or abettors, or of which they
infection. The very Police, which is neces- have the benefit, can only be corrected by
sary to make our cities habitable, give birth their removal from office-and are substanto the odious vermin of informers thief-catch- tially irremediable, however enormous, while
ers, and suborners of treachery; - and our they continue in power. All questions as to
Prisons, which are meant chiefly to reform the them, therefore, belong to the department of
guilty and secure the suspected, are converted party politics, and fall within the province of
into schools of the most atrocious corruption, the polemical statesman. But with regard to
and dens of the most inhuman torture.     all other plain violations of reason, justice, or
Those evils and abuses, thus arising out of humanity, it is comfortable to think that we
intended benefits and remedies, are the last to live in such a stage of society as to make it
which the attention of ordinary men is direct- impossible that they should be allowed to sub
ed —because they arise in such unexpected sist many years, after their mischief and iniquarters, and are apt to be regarded as the quity have been made manifest to the sense
unavoidable accompaniments of indispensable of the country at large. Public opinion, which
institutions. There is a selfish delicacy which is still potent and formidable even to Ministe.
makes us at all times averse to enter into de- rial corruption, is omnipotent against ali info.




BUXTON'S INQUIRY.                                703,ior malversations-and the invaluable means False accusation; and to condemn him who
of denunciation and aut!i ritative and irresis- is only suspected, is to commence hiP punish.
tible investigation whicl, we possess in our ment while his crime is uncertain. Nay, it is
representative legislature,,uts it in the power not only uncertain, as to all who are untried,
of any man of prudence, patience, and re- but it is the fixed presumption of the law that
spectability in that House, to bring to light the the suspicion is unfounded, and that a trial
most secret, and to shame the most arrogant will establish his innocence. We suppose
delinquent, and to call down the steady ven- there are not less than ten or fifteen thousand
geance of public execration, and the sure persons taken up yearly in Great Britain and
light of public intelligence, for the repression Ireland on suspicion of crimes, of whom cerand redress of all public injustice.      tainly there are not two-thirds convicted; so
The'charm is in the little word PUBLICITY! that, in all likelihood, there are not fewer than
-And it is cheering to think how many won- seven or eight thousand innocent persons placed
ders have already been wrought by that pre- annually in this painful predicament-whose
cious Talisman. If the House of Commons very imprisonment, though an unavoidable, is
was of no other use but as an organ for pro- beyond all dispute a very lamentable evil;
claiming and inquiring into all alleged abuses, and to which no unnecessary addition can be
and making public the results, under the made without the most tremendous injustice.
sanction of names and numbers which no man   The debtor, again, seems entitled to at
dares to suspect of unfairness or inattention, least as much indulgence.  c"He may,77 says
it would be enough to place the country in Mr. Buxton, "have been reduced to his inawhich it existed far above all terms of com- bility to satisfy his creditor by the visitation
parison with any other, ancient or modern, in of God,-by disease. by personal accidents,
which no such institution had been devised. by the failure of reasonable projects, by the
Though the great work is done, however, by largeness or the helplessness of his family.
that House and its committees-though it is His substance, and the substance of his credithere only that the mischief can be denounced tor, may have perished together in the flames,
with a voice that reaches to the utmost bor- or in the waters.  Human foresight cannot
ders of the land-and there only that the seal always avert, and human industry cannot alof unquestioned and unquestionable authority ways repair, the calamities to which our nacan be set to the statements which it authen- ture is subjected: —surely, then, some debtors
ticates and gives out to the world — there is are entitled to compassion." —(p. 4.) Of the
still room, and need too, for the humbler min- number of debtors at any one time in confineistry of inferior agents, to circulate and en- ment in these kingdoms, we have no means
force, to repeat and expound, the momentous of forming a conjeci are; but beyond all doubt
facts that have been thus collected, and upon they amount to many thousands, of whom
which the public must ultimately decide. It probably one half have been reduced to that
is this unambitious, but useful function that state by venial errors, or innocent misfortune.
we now propose to perform, in laying before    Even with rega~rd to the convicted, we
our readers a short view of the very interest- humbly conceive it to be clear, that where no
ing facts which are detailed in the valuable special severity is enjoined by the law, any
work of which the title is prefixed, and in the additional infliction beyond that of mere coparliamrentary papers to which it refers.  ercion, is illegal. If the greater delinquents
Prisons are employed for the confinement alone were subjected to such severities, there
and security of at least three different descrip- might be a colour of equity in the practice;
tions of persons:-first, of those who are ac- but in point of fact, they are inflicted accused of crimes and offences, but have not yet cording to the state of the prison, the usage
been brought to trial; 2d, of those who have of the place, or the temper of the jailor; —
been convicted, and are imprisoned prepara- and, in all cases, they are inflicted indiscrimitory to, or as a part of, their punishment; and nately on the whole inmates of each unhappy
3d, of debtors, who are neither convicted nor mansion. Even if it were otherwise, "Who,;
accused of any crime whatsoever. In both says Mr. B., "is to apportion this variety of
the first classes, and even in that least enti- wretchedness? The Judge, who knows nothtled to favour, there is room for an infinity of ing of the interior of the jail; or the jailor,
distinctions-from the case of the boy arraign- who knows nothing of the transactions of the
ed or convicted for a slight assault or a breach Court? The law can easily suit its penalties
of the peace, up to that of the bloody murderer to the circumstances of the case. It can ad
or hardened depredator, or veteran leader of judge to one offender imprisonment for one
the house-breaking gang. All these persons day; to another for twenty years: But what
must indeed be imprisoned-for so the law  ingenuity would be sufficient to devise, and
has declared; but, under that sentence, we what discretion could be trusted to inflict,
humbly conceive there is no warrant to inflict modes of imprisonment with similar variaon them  any other punishment —any thing tions I"-p. 8.
more than a restraint on their personal free-   But the truth is, that all inflictions be rond
dom. This, we think, is strictly true of all that of mere detention, are clearly illegal. —
the three classes we have mentioned; but it Take the common case of fetters-from
will scarcely be disputed, at all events, that Bracton down to Blackstone, all our lawyers
it is true of the first and the last. A man may declare the use of them to be contrary to law.
avoid the penalties of Crime, by avoiding all The last says, in so many words, that " the
criminality: But no man can be secure against law will not justify jailors in fettering a ori.




704                                MISCELLANEOUS
soner, unless where he is unruly or has at- mitted, that in that quarter some alteration
tempted an escape;" and, even in that case. might be desirable, though, in his apprehenthe practice seems to be questionable-if we sion, it was altogether impracticable. Thougn
can trust to the memorable reply of Lord  by no means inclined to adopt the whole of
Chief Justice King to certain magistrates, the worthy Alderman's opinions, we may
who urged their necessity for safe custody-  safely say, that we should have been much
"let them  build their walls higher."  Yet disposed to agree with him  in thinking the
has this matter been left, all over the king- subjects of those observations pretty nearly
dom, as a thing altogether indifferent, to the incorrigible: and certainly should not have
pleasure of the jailor or local magistrates; hesitated to pronounce the change which has
and the practice accordingly has been the actually been made upon them altogether immost capricious and irregular that can well be possible. Mrs. Fry, however, knew better of
imagined.                                     what both she and they were capable: and.
"In Chelmsford, for example, and in Newgate, strong in the spirit of compassionate love, and
all atcused or convicted of felony are ironed.-At of that charity that hopeth all things, and beBury, and at Norwich, all are without irons.-At lieveth. all things, set herself earnestly and
Abzngdon the untried are not ironed.-At Derby, humbly to that arduous and revoltino task, in
none but the untried are ironed!-At Cold-bath-                                  t     I
elds, none  but the untried  are roned thoset Co ath- which her endeavours lave been so singularly
elds nne but the untried, and those sent for re-    ssed and effectual. This heroic and affecexamination, are ironed.-At Winchester, all before
trial are ironed; and those sentenced to transpora- tionate woman is the wife, we understand, of
tion after trial.-At Chester, those alone of bad a respectable banker in London; and both
character are ironed, whether tried or untried."    she and her husband belong to the Society of
pp. 68, 69.   Friends-that exemplary sect, which is the
But these are trifles. The truth of the case first to begin and the last to abandon every
is forcibly and briefly stated in the following  scheme for the practical amendment of their
short sentences:-                            fellow-creatures-and who have carried into
" You have no right to deprive a man sentenced all their schemes of reformation a spirit of
to mere imprisonment of pure air, wholesome and practical wisdom. of magnanimous patience,
sufficient food, and opportunities of exercise. You and merciful indulgence, which puts to shame
have no right to debar him from the craft on which the rashness, harshness, and precipitation of
his family depends, if it can be exercised in prison.  sapient ministers, and presumptuous politiYou have no right to subject him to suffering from  cians. We should like to lay the whole accold, by want of bed-clothing by night, or firing by count of her splendid campaign before our
day. And the reason is plain,-you have taken him        her splendid campaign before our
from his home, and have deprived him of the means readers; but our limits will no longer admit of
of providing himself with the necessaries or com- it. However, we shall do what we can; and,
forts of life; and therefore you are bound to furnish at all events, no longer withhold them from a
him with moderate indeed, but suitable accommo- part at least of this heart-stirring narrative.
dation.
" You have, for the same reason, no right to   " About four years ago, Mrs. Fry was induced
ruin his habits, by cQmpelling him to be idle, his to visit Newgate, by the representations of its state
morals, by compelling him  to mix with a pro- made by some persons of the Society of Friends.
miscuous assemblage of hardened and convicted    " She found the female side in a situation which
criminals, or his health by forcing him at night into no language can describe. Nearly three hundred
a damp unventilated cell, with such crowds of com- women, sent there for every gradation of' crime,
panions, as very speedily render the air foul and some untried, and some under sentence of death,
putrid, or to make him sleep in close contact with were crowded together in the two wards and two
the victims of contagious and loathsome disease, or cells, which are row appropriated to the untried,
amidst the noxious effluvia of dirt and corruption. and which are found quite inadequate to contain
In short, no Judge ever condemned a man to be even this diminished number with any tolerable
half starved with cold by day, or half suffocated  convenience. Here they saw their friends, and kept
with heat by night. Who ever heard of a criminal their multitudes of children; and they had no other
being sentenced to Rheumatism, or Typhus fever? place for cooking, washing, eating, and sleeping.
Corruption of morals and contamination of mind    "They all slept on the floor; at times one hunare not the remedies which the law in its wisdom  dred and twenty in one ward, without. so much as
has thought proper to adopt."*                a mat for bedding; and many of them were very
nearly naked.  She saw them  openly drinking
The abuses in Newgate, t great recepta- spirits; and her ears were offended by the most
cle of guilt and misery, constructed to hold  terrible imprecaticns. Every thing was filthy  to
about four hundred and eighty prisoners, but excess, aRd the smell was quite disgusting. Every
generally containing, of late years, from. eight one, even the Governor, was reluctant to go
hundred to twelve hundred, are eloquently  amongst them. He persuaded her to leave her
set forth in the publication before us, though  would not peenoffice, telling her tht his presence
would not prevent its being torn from her! She
we have no longer left ourselves room to spe- saw enough to convince her that every thing bad
cify them.  It may be sufficient, however, to was going on. In short, in giving me this account,
observe, that the state of the Women's wards she repeatedly said-' All I tell thee is a faint picwas universally allowed to be by far the ture of the reality; the filth, the closeness of the
worst; and that even Alderman Atkins ad- rooms, the ferocious manners and expressions of
the women towards each other, and the abandoned
* I do not now reprint the detailed statements wickedness which every thing bespoke, are quite
which formed the bulk of this paper, as originally indescribable.' "-pp. 117-119.
published; and retain only the account of the mar-   Her design, at this time, was confined to
vellous reformation effected in Newgate, by the the instruction of about seventy hildrena  who
heroic *bouars of Mrs. Fry and her sisters of charity   tion of about seventy children, who
-of which I tniny. it a duty to omit nothing that were wandering about in this scene of horror
may help to perpetuate the remembrance.       and for whom  even the most abandoned om




BUXTON'S INQUIRY.                                     705
theii wretched mothers thanked her with  consisted of the wife of a clergyman, and eleven
tears of gratitude for her benevolent inten- (female) members of the Society of Friends.'Ihey
tions! while several of the younger women  professed their willingness to suspend every other
flocked about her, and entreated, with the  engagement and avocation, and to devote themflocked 7abo.t he.adeid  i h.t e selves to Newgate; and in truth, they have permost pathetic eagerness, to be admitted to  formed their promise. With no interval of relaxaher intended school. She now applied to the  tion, and with but few intermissions from the call
Governor, and had an interview with the two  of other and more imperious duties, they have since
Sheriffs and the Ordinary, who received her lived amongst the prisoners."
with the most cordial approbation; but fairly    Even this astonishing progress could not
intimated to her " their persuasion that her correct the incredulity of men of benevolence
efforts would be utterly fruitless."' After some and knowledge of the world.  The Reverend
investiga.tion, it was officially reported, that Ordinary, though filled with admiration for
there was no vacant spot in which the school the exertions of this intrepid and devoted
could be established; and an ordinary philan- band, fairly told Mrs. F. that her designs, like
thropist would probably have retired disheart- many others for the improvement of that
ened from  the undertaking.  Mrs. Fry, how- wretched mansion, "would inevitably fail."
ever, mildly requested to be admitted once  The Governor encouraged her to go on-but
more alone among the women, that she might confessed to his fiiends, that " he could not
conduct the search for herself.  Difficulties see even the possibility of her success."  But
always disappear before the energy of real the wisdom  of this world is foolishness, and
zeal and benevolence: an empty cell was im- its fears but snares to entangle our feet in the
mediately discovered, and the school was to  career of our duty.  Mrs. F. saw with other
be opened the very day after.                  eyes, and felt with another heart.  She went
"The next day she commenced the school, in again to the Sheriffs and the Governor; —near
company with a young lady, who then visited a one hundred of the women were brought beprison for the first time, and who since gave me a fore them  and
very interesting description of her feelings upon that,, with much solemnity and earoccasion. The railing was crowded with half naked nestness, engaged to give the strictest obediwomen. struggling together for the front situa- ence to all the regulations of their heroic benetions with the most boisterous violence, and begging factress.  A  set of rules was accordingly
with the utmost vociferation. She felt as if she was promulgated, which we have not room here to
going into a den of wild beasts; and she well recol- transcribe; but they imported the sacrifice of
lects quite shuddering when the door closed upon all their darlin  and much cherished vices;her, and. she was locked in, with such a herd of
novel and desperate companions. This day, how- drinking; gaming, card-playing; novel reading,
ever, the school surpassed their utmost expectations: were entirely prohibited-and regular applitheir only pain arose from the numerous and press- cation to work engaged for in every, quarter.
ing applications made by young women, who longed  For the space of one month these benevolent
to he taught and employed. The narrowness ofthe women laboured in private in the midst of
room rendered it then impossible to yield to theseck; at the end of that short
requests: But they tempted these ladies to project time they invited the Corporation of that short
a school for the employment of the tried women, time they invited the Corporation of London
for t,-ching them to read and to work."        to satisfy themselves, by inspection, of the'When this intention was mentioned to the effect of their pious exertions.
friends of these ladies, it appeared at first so visionary and unpromising, that it met with very slender   "In compliance with this appointment, the Lord
encouragement: they were told that the certain  Mayor, the Sheriffs, and several of the Aldermen,
consequence of introducing work would be, that it attended. The prisoners were assembled together;
would be stolen; that though such an experiment and it being requested that no alteration in their
might be reasonable enough, if made in the country, usual practice might take place, one of the ladies
among women who had been accustomed to hard  read a chapter in the Bible, and then the females
labour, it was quite hopeless, when tried upon those proceeded to their various avocations. Their attenwho had been so long habituated to vice and idle. tion during the time of reading, their orderly and
ness. In short, it was predicted, and by many too, sober deportment, their decent dress, the absence
whose wisdom and benevolence added weight to of every thing like tumult, noise, or contention, the
their opinions, that those who had set at defiance obedience, and the respect shown by them, and the
the law of the land, with all its terrors, would very  cheerfulness visible in their countenances and man.
speedily revolt from an authority which had nothing ners, conspired to excite the astonishment and adto enforce it; and nothing more to recommend it miration of their visitors.
than its simplicity and gentleness. But the noble    "Many of these knew Newgate; had visited it
zeal of these unassuming women was not to be so a few months before, and had not forgotten the
repressed; and feeling that their design was in- painful impressions made by a scene, exhibiting,
tended for the good and the happiness of others, perhaps, the very utmost limits of misery and guilt.
they trusted that it would receive the guidance and -They now saw, what, without exaggeration, may
protection of Him who often is pleased to accom- be called a transformation. Riot, licentiousness,
plish the highest purposes by the most feeble instru- and filth, exchanged for order, sobriety, and comments.                                         parative neatness in the chamber, the apparel, and
" With these impressions, they had the boldness the persons of the prisoners. They saw no more
to declare, that if a committee could be found who an assemblage of abandoned and shameless crea
would share the labour, and a matron who would tures, half-naked and half-drunk, rather demanding,
engage never to leave the prison, day or night, they  than requesting charity. The prison no more rewould undertake to try the experiment, that is, sounded with obscenity, and imprecations, and lithey would themselves find employment for the centious songs; and to use the coarse, but the just,
women, procure the necessary money, till the city expression of one who knelw the prison well,' this
could be induced to relieve them, and be answer- hell upon earth,' already exhibited the appearance
aLle for the safety of the property committed into of an industrious manufactory, or a well regulated
the hands of the prisoners.                    family.
Ilhe committee immediately presented itself; it   "  he magistrates, to evince their sense of th
45




706                                MISCELLANEOUS.
importance of the alterations which had been ef- a Bible in her life, which was received witn so much
fected, immediately adopted the whole plan as a part interest and satisfaction, or one, which she thinks
of the system of Newgate; empowered the ladies more likely to do good. It is remarkable, that this
to punish the refractory by short confinement, un- girl, from her conduct in her preceding prison, and
dertook part of the expense of the matron, and in court, came to Newgate with the worst of charloaded the ladies with thanks and benedictions."   acters."-p. 134.
pp. 130, 131.    The change, indeed, pervaded every deWe can add nothing to this touching and  partment of the female division. Those who
elevating statement. The story of a glorious were marched off for transportation, instead
victory gives us a less powerful or proud of breaking the windows and furniture, and
emotion-and thanks and benedictions appear going off, according to immemorial usage, with
to us never to have been so richly deserved.  drunken songs and intolerable disorder, took
"A  year, says Mr. Buxton, has now elapsed a serious and tender leave of their compansince the operations in Newgate began; and those ions, and expressed the utmost gratitude to
most competent to judge, the late LordMayor and their benefactors, from  whom  they parted
the present, the late Sheriffs and the present, the with tears.  Stealing has also been entirely
late Governor and the present, various Grand
Juries, the Chairman of the Police Committee, the suppressed; and, while upwards of twenty
Ordinary, and the officers of the prison, have all thousand articles of dress have been manudeclared their satisfaction, mixed with astonish- factured, not one has been lost or purloined
ment, at the alteration which has taken place in the within the precincts of the prison!
conduct of the females.                          We have nothing more to say; and would
"It is true, and the Ladies' Committee are anx. not willingly weaken the effect of this imions that it should not be concealed, that some of
the rules have been occasionally broken. Spirits, pressive statement by any observations of
they fear, have more than once been introduced; ours. Let us hear no more of the difficulty
and it was discovered at one period, when many of of regulating provincial prisons, when the
the ladies were absent, that card-playing had been prostitute felons of London have been thus
resumed. But, though truth compels thenl to ac- easily reformed and converted. Let us never
knowledge these deviations, they have been of a
very limited extent. I could find but one lady who again be told of the impossibility of repress-.
heard an oath, and there had not been above half a ing drunkenness and profligacy, or introducing
dozen instances of intoxication; and the ladies feel habits of industry in small establishments,
justified in stating, that the rules have generally  when this great crater of vice and corruption
been observed. The ladies themselves have been has been thus stilled and purified. And, above
treated with uniform respect and gratitude."  all. let there be an end of the pitiful apology
pp. 132, 133. of the want of funds, or means, or agents, to
At the close of a Session, many of the re- effect those easier improvements, when woformed prisoners were dismissed. and many  men from  the middle ranks of life -when
new  ones were received —and, under their quiet unassuming matrons, unaccustomed to.
auspices, card-playing was again introduced. business, or to any but domestic exertions,
One of the ladies, however, went among them  have, without funds, without agents, without
alone, and earnestly and affectionately ex- aid  or. encouragement of any description
plained to them the pernicious consequences trusted themselves within the very centre oi
of this practice; and represented to them  infection and despair; and, by opening their
how  much she would be gratified, if, even  hearts only, and not their purses, have effect
from  regard to her, theywould agree to re- ed, by the mere force of kindness, gentleness,.nounce it.                                   and compassion, a labour, the like to which
does not remain to be performed, and which
"Soon after she retired to the ladies' room, one does ot remain te way and insured, and which
of the prisoners came to her, and expressed, in a has  smoothed the way and insured success
manner which indicated real feeling, her sorrow for to all similar labours. We cannot Envy the
having broken the rules of so kind a friend, and happiness which Mrs. Fry must enjoy from
gave her a pack of cards: four others did the same. the consciousness of her own great achieveHaving burnt the cards in their presence, she felt ments;-but there is no happiness or honour
bound to remunerate them for their value, and to of which we should be so proud to be parmark her sense of their ready obedience by some takers: And we seem  to relieve our own
small present. A few days afterwards, she callede seem  to relieve 
the first to her, and telling her intention, produced hearts of their share of national gratitude, in
a neat muslin handkerchief. To her surprise, the thus placing on her simple and modest brov,
girl looked disappointed; and, on being asked the that truly Civic Crown, which far outshines
reason, confessed she had hoped that Mrs. -   the laurels of conquest, or the coronals of
would have given her a Bible with her own name power -and can only be outshone itself, by
written in it! which she should value beyond any power-and can only be  outshone   tselfy
thing else, and always keep and read. Such a those wreaths of imperishable glory which
request, made in such a manner, could not be re. await the champions of Faith and Charity in
fused; and the lady assures me that she never gave a higher state of existence.




MEMOIRS OF CUMBERLAND.                                707
Alemoirs of Richard Cumberland: written by himself.  Containing an Account of his Life
and Writings, interspersed with Anecdotes and Characters of the most distinguished Persons
of his Time with whom he had Intercourse or Connection. 4to. pp. 533. London: 1806.*
WE certainly have no wish for the death  however, to let authors tell their own story,
of Mr. Cumberland; on the contrary, we hope  as an apology for telling that of all their ache will live long enough to make a large sup- quaintances; and can easily forgive them for
plement to these memoirs: But he has em- grouping and assorting their anecdotes of their
barrassed us a little by publishing this volume contemporaries, according to the chronology,
in his lifetime. We are extremely unwilling  and incidents of their own lives. This is but
to say any thing that may hurt the feelings indulging the painter of a great gallery of
ofa man of distinguished talents, who is draw- worthies with a panel for his own portrait;
ing to the end of his career, and imagines that and though it will probably be the least like
he has hitherto been ill used by the world: of the whole collection, it would be hard to
but he has shown, in this publication, such an  grudge him this little gratification.
appetite for praise, and such a jealousy of    Life has often been compared to a journey;
censure, that we are afraid we cannot do our and the simile seems to hold better in. nothing
autv conscientiously, without giving him of- than in the identity of the rules by which
fence. The truth is, that the book has rather those who write their travels, and those who
disappointed us. We expected it to be ex- write their lives, should be governed. When
tremely amusing; and it is not. There istoo  a man returns from visiting any celebrated
much of the first part of the title in it, and too region, we expect to hear much more of the
little of the last. Of the life and writings of remarkable things and persons he has seen,
Richard  Cumberland, we hear more than  than of his own personal transactions; and
enough; but of the distinguished persons with  are naturally disappointed if; after saying that
whom he lived, we have many fewer charac- he lived much with illustrious statesmen or
ters and anecdotes than we could have wish- heroes, he chooses rather to tell us of his own
ed. We are the more inclined to regret this, travelling equipage, or of his cookery and serboth b'ecause the general style of Mr. Cum- vants, than to give us any account of the
berland's compositions has convinced us, that character and conversation of those distinno one could have exhibited characters and guished persons. In the same manner, when
anecdotes in a more engaging manner, and  at the close of a long life, spent in circles of
because, from what he has put into this book, literary and political celebrity, an author sits
we actually see that he had excellent oppor- down to give the world an account of his retunities for collecting, and still better talents trospections, it is reasonable to stipulate that
for relating them. The anecdotes and charac- he should talk less of himself than of his asters which we have, are given in a very pleas- sociates; and natural to complain, if he tells`ing and animated manner, and form the chief long stories of his schoolmasters and grandmerit of the publication: But they do not oc- mothers, while he passes over some of the
cupy one tenth part of it; and the rest is filled most illustrious of his companions with a bare
with details that do not often interest, and ob- mention of their names.
servations that do not always amuse.          Mr. Cumberland has offended a little in this
Authors, we think, should not, generally, way. He has also composed these memoirs,
be encouraged to write their own lives. The we think, in too diffuse, rambling, and caregenius of Rousseau, his enthusiasm, and the less a style. There is evidently no selection
novelty of his plan, have rendered the Con- or method in his narrative: and unweighed
fessions, in some respects, the most interest- remarks, and fatiguing apologies and prctesing of books. But a writer, who is in full tations, are tediously interwoven with it, in
possession of his senses, who has lived in the the genuine style of good-natured but irrepresworld like the men and women who compose  sible loquacity. The whole composition, init, and whose vanity aims only at the praise deed, has not only too much the air of conof great talents and accomplishments, must versation: It has sometimes an unfortunate
not hope to write a book like the Confessions: resemblance to the conversation of a professed
and is scarcely to be trusted with the delinea- talker; and we meet with many passages in
tion of his own character or the narrative of which the author appears to work himself up
his own adventures. We have no objection, to an artificial vivacity, and to give a certain
air of smartness to his expression, by the in* I reprint part of this paper-for the sake chiefly troduction of cant phrases odd metaphors. and
of the anecdotes of Bentley, Bubb Dodington, a sort of practised and theatrical originality.
Soarne Jenyns, and a few others, which I think  The work, however, is well worth looking
remarkable-and very much, also, for the lively over, and contains many more amusing pasand graphi ofaccount of the impredssion of Garcks  sages than we can afford to extract on the
new style of acting, as compared with that of Quin present occasion.
and the old schools-which is as good and as cu-present occasion.
rious as Colley Cibber's admirable sketches of   Mr.'Cumberland was born il 1732; and he
Betterton and Booth.                        has a very natural pride in I'ating that his




708                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
paternal great-grandfather was the learned  amptonshire at the birth of his son. He iw anl
and most exemplary Bishop Cumberland, au- to school, first at Bury St. Edmunds, and af;er
thor of the treatise De Legibus Naturea; and  wards at Westminster. But the most valuable
that his maternal grandfather was the cele- part of his early education was that for which
orated Dr. Richard Bentley.  Of the last of he was indebted to the taste and intelligence
these distinguished persons he has given, from  of his mother.  We insert with pleasure the
she distinct recollection of his childhood, a following amiable paragraph:much more amiable and engaging represenuch more amiable and engaging represen-   "It was in these intervals from school that my
tation than has hitherto been made public.  mother began to form both my taste and my ear
_nstead of the haughty and morose critic and  for poetry, by employing me every evening to read
controversialist, we here learn, with pleasure, to her, of which art she was a very able mistress.
that he was as remarkable for mildness and  Our readings were, with very few exceptions, conkind affections in private life, as for profound  fined to the chosen plays of Shakespeaye, whom
she both admired aod understood in the true spirit
erudition and sagacity as an author.  Mr. she both admtre athondersith all her father's
Cumberland has collected a number of little critical acumen, she could trace, and teach me to
anecdotes that seem  to be quite conclusive  unravel, all the meanders of his metaphor, and
upon this head; but we rather insert the fol- point out where it illuminated, or where it only
lowing general testimony: —                    loaded and obscured the meaning. These were
happy hours and interesting lectures to me; whilst
"I had a sister somewhat older than myself. my beloved father, ever placid and complacent,
Had there been any of that sternness in my grand- sate beside us, and took part in our amusement;
father, which is so falsely imputed to him, it may  his voice was never heard but in the tone of approwell be supposed we should have been awed into bation; his countenance never marked but with
silence in his presence, to which we were admitted  the natural traces of his indelible and hereditary
every day. Nothing can be further from the truth; benevolence."
he was the unwearied patron and promoter of all
our childish sports and sallies; at all times ready to    The effect of these readings was, that the
detach himself from  any topic of conversation to young author, at twelve years of age, protake an interest and bear his part in our amuse- duced a sort of drama, called':Shakespeare
ments. The eager curiosity natural to our age, and in the Shades, 7 composed almost entirely of
the questions it gave birth to, so teasing to many passages from that great writer, strung toparents, he, on the.contrary, attended to and en-passages  from   that great writer  strung tocouraged, as the claims of infant reason, never to gether and assorted with no despicable inbe evaded or abused; strongly recommending, that genuity.  But it is more to the purpose to
to all such inquiries answers should be given ac- observe that, at this early period of his life, he
cording to the strictest truth, and information dealt first saw Garrick. in the character of Lothario;
to us in the clearest terms, as a sacred duty never and has left this animated account of the imto be departed from. I have broken in upon him  pression which the scene made upon his
many a time in his hours of study, when he woulde scene made upon h
put his book aside, ring his hand-bell for his servant, and be led to his shelves to take down a pic-   "I have the spectacle even now, as it were, beture-book for my amusement! I do not say that fo  my eyes. Quin presented himself, upon the
his good-natu.e always gained its object, as the fore my 
pictures which his books generally supplied me with rising of the curtain, in a green velvet coat, embroidered down the seams, an enormous full-botwere anatomical drawings of dissected bodies, very tomed perwig, rolled stockings, and high heeled
little calculated to communicate delight; but he
had nothing better to produce; and surely such an square-toed shoes:  With very little variation of
effort on his part, however unsuccessful, was no cadence, and in deep full tone, accompanied by a
feature of a cynic; a cynic'should be made of sawing kind of action, which had more of the senate
than of the stage in it, he rolled out his heroics
sterner stuffand only once, Irecollect his giving me with an air of dignified indifference, that seemed to
&' Once, and only once, I recollect his giving me disdain the plaudits that were bestowed upon him.
a gentle rebuke for making a most outrageous noise disdain     the plaudits that were bestowed upon him.
in the room over his library, and disturbing him in Mrs. Cibber, in a key high pitched, but sweet withthe room over his library, and disturbing him n al g, or rather recitatived, Rowe's harmonious
his studies: I had no apprehension of anger from  s    g, or rather recitatived, Rowe's harmonious
him, and confidently answered that I could not help strains, something in the m anner of the Improviit, as I had been at battledore and shuttlecock with satori: It was so extremely wanting in contrast,
itaster Gooch, the Bishp of ly's san.t'tAd I that, though it did not wound the ear, it wearied it:
Master Gooch, the Bishop of Ely's son.'.And I
when she had once recited two or three speeches, I
have been at this sport with his father,' he replied; could anticipate the manner of every succeeding' But thine has been the more amusing game;* so could anticipate the manner of every succeeding
there's no harms been the more amusing game; so one. It was like a long old legendary ballad of innumerable stanzas, every one of which is sung to
He also mentions, that when his adversary  the same tune, eternally chiming in the ear without
Collins had fallen into poverty in his latter vanation or relief Mrs. Pritchard was an actress
days, Bentley, apprehending that he was in  of a different cast, had more nature, and of course
d B, h   that he was in  more change of tone, and variety both of action
some measure responsible for his loss of repu- and expression. In my opinion, the comparison
tion, contrived to administer to his necessities was decidedly in her favour. But when, after long
in a way not less creditable to his delicacy  and eager expectation, I first beheld little Garrick,
than to his liberality.                        then young and light, and alive in every muscle
The youngest daughter of this illustrious and in every feature, come bounding on the stage,
scholar, the Phebe of Byron's pastoral and  and pointing at the wittol Altamont and heavy.sholarsl the Phoabe of eB yron  s pastoral and paced Horatio - heavens, what a transition!-it
herself a woman of extraordinary accomplish- seemed as if a whole century had been stepped
ments, was the mother of Mr. Cumberland. over in the transition of a single scene! Old things
His father, who appears also to have been a were done away; and a new order at once brought
man of the most blameless and amiable dis- forward, bright and luminous, and clearly destined
positions, and to have united, in a very exem- to dispel the barbarisms and bigotry of a tasteless
piary way, the characters of a clergyman and  age, too long attached to the prejudices of custom,
and superstitiously devoted to the illusions of im.
a gentlemen, was Rector of Stanwick in North- posing declamation. This heaven-born actor was




MEMOIRS OF CUMBERLAND.                                       70
then st uggling to emancipate his audience from the son of the wearer, that I remember when he made
slavery they were resigned to; and though at times his first speech in the House oi Peers as Lord Melhe succeeded in throwing in some gleams of new- combe, all the flashes of his wit, all the studied
born light upon them, yet in general they seemed  phrases and well-turned periods of his rhetoric
to love darkness better than light; and in the dia- lost their effect, simply because the orator had
logue of altercation between Horatio and Lothario, laid aside his magisterial tie, and put on a mobestowed far the greater showu of hands upon the  dern bag-wig, which was as much out of costume
master of the old school than upon the founder of  upon the broad expanse of his shoulders, as a cue
the new. I thank my stars, my feelings in those  would have been upon the robes of the Lord C hiefmoments led me right; they were those of nature, Justice."
and therefore could not err."
Some years after this, Mr. -Cumberland's    The following, with all our former impres.
fathSome ye ars  after this living of Stanwick for sions of his hero's absurdity, rather surpassed
father  exchanged  his living of Stanwick for       expectations.
that of Fulham, in order that his son might our expectations.
have the benefit of his society, while obliged    "Of pictures he seemed to take his estimate only
to reside in the vicinity of the metropolis. by their cost; in fact, he was not possessed of any.
The celebrated Bubb Dodington resided at But I recollect his saying to me one day in his great
this time in theneig~hbouring parish of Ham- saloon at Eastbury, that-if he had half a score pic.
thimersmith; and Mr. Cumberlandpas, who soon H  tures of a thousand pourds a-piece, he would gladly
rersmith; and Mr. Cumberland, who  soon decorate his walls with them; in place of which
became a frequent guest at his table, has pre- am sorry to say he had stuck up immense patches of
sented his readers with the following spirited  gilt leather, shaped into bugle horns, upon hangings
full length portrait of that very remarkable  of' rich crimson velvet! and round his state bed he
and preposterous personage.                     displayed a carpeting of gold and silver embroidery,
which too glaringly betrayed its derivation from
" Our splendid host was excelled by no man in coat, waistcoat, and breeches, by the testimony of
doing the honours of his house and table; to the pockets, buttonholes, and loops, with other equally
ladies he had all the courtly and profound devotion  incontrovertible witnesses, subpoenaed from  the
of a Spaniard, with the ease and gaiety of a French- tailor's shopboard! When he paid his court at St.
man towards the men. His mansion was magnifi- James' to the present queen upon her nuptials, he
cent; massy, and stretching out to a great extent approached to kiss her hand, decked in an emof front, with an enormous portico of Doric columns, broidered suit of silk, with lilac waistcoat, and
ascended by a stately flight of steps. There were  breeches, the latter of which, in the act of kneeling
turrets, and wings too, that went I know not whi- down, forgot their duty and broke loose from their
ther, though now levelled with the ground, or gone moorings in a very indecorous and uncourtly
to more ignoble uses: Vanbrugh, who constructed  manner."
this superb edifice, seemed to have had the plan of    " During my stay at Eastbury, we were visited
Blenheim in his thoughts, and the interior was as by the late Mr. Henry Fox and Mr. Alderman
proud and splendid as the exterior was bold and  Beckford; the solid good sense of the former, and
imposing. All this was exactly in unison with the the dashing loquacity of the latter, formed a striking
taste of its magnificent owner; who had gilt and  contrast between the characters of these gentlemen.
furnished the apartments with a profusion of finery, To Mr. Fox our host paid all that courtly homage,
that kept no terms with simplicity, and not always which he so well knew how to time, and where to
with elegance or harmony of style. Whatever Mr. apply; to Beckford he did not observe the same
Dodington's revenue then was, he had the happy  attentions, but in the happiest flow of his raillery
art of managing it with such economy, that I be- and wit combated this intrepid talker with admiralieve he made more display at less cost than any  ble effect.  It was an interlude truly comic and
man in the kingdom but himself could have done. amusing.-Beckford loud, voluble, self-sufficient,
His town-house in Pall-Mall, and this villa at Ham. and galled by hits which he could not parry, and
mersmith, were such establishments as few nobles probably did not expect, laid himself more and
in the nation were possessed of. In either of these  more open in the vehemence of his argument;
he was not to be approached but through a suit of Dodington lolling in his chair in perfect apathy and
apar-ments, and rarely seated but under painted  self-command, dozing, and even snoring at intervals,
ceilings and gilt entablatures. In his villa you were in his lethargic way, broke out every now and thei
conducted through two rows of antique marble into such gleams and flashes of wit and irony, as
statues, ranged in a gallery floored with the rarest by the contrast of his phlegm with the other's immarbles, and enriched with columns of granite and  petuosity, made his humour irresistible, and set the
lapis lazuli; his saloon was hung with the finest table in a roar. He was here upon his very strongGobelin tapestry, and he slept in a bed encanopied est ground."
with peacock's feathers in the style of Mrs. Mon-   " He wrote small poems with great pains, and
tague. When he passed from  Pall-Mall to La elaborate letters with much terseness of style, and
T'rappe it was always in a coach, which I could not some quaintness of expression: I have seen him
but suspect had been his ambassadorial equipage at refer to a volume of his own verses in manuscript,
Madrid, drawn by six fat unwieldy black horses, but he was very shy, and I never had the perusal
short-docked, and of colossal dignity. Neither was of it. I was rather better acquainted with his Diary,
he less characteristic in apparel than in equipage; which since his death has been published; and I
he had a wardrobe loaded with rich and flaring suits, well remember the temporary disgust he seemed
each in itself a load to the wearer, and of these I to take, when upon his asking what I would do
have no doubt but many were coeval with his em- with it should he bequeath it to my discretion, I
bassy above mentioned, and every birth-day had  instantly replied, that I would destroy it. There
added to the stock. In doing this he so contrived  was a third, which I more coveted a sight of than
as never to put his old dresses out of countenance, of either of the above, as it contained a miscellaby any variations in the fashion of the new; in the neous collection of anecdotes, repartees, good saymean time, his bulk and corpulency gave full dis- ings, and humorous incidents, of which he was part
play to avast expanse and profusion of brocade and  author and part compiler, and out of which he was
embroidery, and this, when set off with an enor- in the habit of refreshing his memory, when he
mous tie-periwig and deep-laced ruffles, gave the prepared himself to expect certain men of wit and
picture of' an ancient courtier in his gala habit, or pleasantry, either at his own house or elsewhere.
Quin in his stage dress. Nevertheless, it must be Upon this practice, which he did, not affect to conconfessed this style, though out of date, was not out ceal, he observed to me one day, that it was a corn
af character, but harmonized so well with the per- plirnent he paid to society, when he submitted tc




710                                   MISCELLANEOUS.
steal weapons out of his own armoury for their en- his recollection or equilibrium the whole time, and
tertainment."                                   was in excellent foolery. It was a singular coincr
" I had taken leave of Lord Melcombe the day  dence, that there was a person in company who had
preceding the coronation, and found him before a received his reprieve at the gallows, and the very
fooking-glass in his new robes, -practising atti- judge who had passed sentence of death upon him
tudes, and debating within himself upon the most But this did not in the least disturb the harmony
graceful mode of carrying his coronet in the pro- of the society, nor embarrass any human creature
cession. He was in high glee with his fresh and  present." —pp. 174, 175.
blooming honours; and I left him in the act of'
dictating a billet to Lady Hervey, apprising her that   At this period of his story he introduces
a young lord was coming to throw himself' at her several sketches and characters of his literary
feet."-_ P. 159.                                friends; which are executed, for the most
Mr. Cumberland went to Ireland with Lord  part, with great force and vivacity.  Of GarHalifax in 1761; and the celebrated Single- rick he saysSpeech Hamilton went as chief secretary.-    "Nature had done so much for him, that he
His character is well drawn in the following  could not help being an actor; she gave him a
sentences.                                      frame of so manageable a proportion, and from its
flexibility so perfectly under command, that, by its
aptitude and elasticity, he could draw it out to fit
House'of Commons. He had a striking counte- any sizes of character that tragedy could offer to
nance, a graceful carriage, great self-possession and  him  and contract it to any scale of ridiculous dipersonal courage: He was not easily put out of his minution, that his Abel Drugger, Scrubb, or Fribway by any of those unaccommodating repugnances ble, could require of him to sink it to. His eye, in
that men of weaker nerves, or more tender con- the meantime, was so penetrating, so speaking;
sciences, might have stumbled at, or been checked  his brow so movable, and all his features so plasby: he could mask the passions that were natural tic, and so accommodating, that wherever his mind
to him, and assume those that did not belong to impelled them, they would go; and before his
him: he was indefatigable, meditative, mysterious: tongue could give the text, his countenance would
his opinions were the result of long labour and express the spirit and the passion of the part he was
much reflection, but he had the art of setting them  encharged with."-pp. 245, 246.
forth as if they were the starts of ready genius
and a quick perception: He had as much seeming    The following picture of Soame Jenyns is
steadiness as a partisan could stand in need of, and excellent.
all the real flexibility that could suit his purpose, or
advance his interest. He would fain have retained    " He was the man who bore his part in all sohis connection with Edmund Burke, and associated  cieties with the most even temper and undisturbed
him to his politics, for he well knew the value of his hilarity of all the good companions whom I ever
talents; but in that object he was soon disap- knew. He came into your house at the very mopointed: the genius of Burke was of too high a ment you had put upon your card; he dressed himcaste to endure debasement." —pp. 169, 170.     self to do your party honour in all the colours of
In Dublin Mr. Cumberland was introduced  the jay; his lace indeed had long since lost its
to a new  and a more miscellaneous society  lustre, but his coat had faithfully retained its cut
o        has..,since the days when gentlemen embroidered figured
than he had hitherto been used to, and has velvets with short sleeves, boot cuffs, and buckram
presented his readers with striking sketches shirts. As nature had cast him in the exact mould
of Dr. Pococke and Primate Stone.  We are  of an ill made pair of stiff stays, he followed her so
more amused, however, with the following  close in the fashion of his coat, that it was doubted
picture of George Faulkner.                     if he did not wear them. Because he had a protuberant wen just under his poll, he wore a wig
" Description must fall short in the attempt to con- that did not cover above halfl' his head. His eyes
vey any sketch of that eccentric being to those who  were protruded like the eyes of the lobster, who
have not read him in the notes of Jephson, or seen  wears them at the end of his feelers, and yet there
him in the mimickry of Foote, who, in his portraits was room between one of these and his nose for
of Faulkner, found the only sitter whom  his ex- another wen, that added nothing to his beauty; yet
travagant pencil could not caricature; for he had a I heard this good man very innocently remark,
solemn intrepidity of egotism, and a daring con- when Gibbon published his history, that he wontempt of absurdity, that fairly outfaced imitation, dered any body so ugly could write a book.
and, like Garrick's Ode on Shakespeare, which    " Such was the exterior of a man, who was the
Johnson said " defied criticism," so did George, in charm of the circle, and gave a zest to every comthe original spirit of his own perfect buffoonery, pany he came into: His pleasantry was of a sort
defy caricature. He never deigned to join in the peculiar to himself; it harmonised with everything;
laugh he had raised, nor seemed to have a feeling it was like the bread to your dinner; you did not
of the ridicule he had provoked. At the same time perhaps make it the whole, or principal part of
that he was preeminently, and by preference, the your meal, but it was an admirable and wholesome
butt and buffoon of the company, he could find  auxiliary to your other viands. Soame Jenyns told
openings and opportunities for hits of retaliation, you no long stories, engrossed not much of your
which were such left-handed thrusts as few could attention, and was not angry with those that did.
parry: nobody could foresee where they would  His thoughts were original, and were apt to have a
fall; nobody, of course, was fore-armed: and as very whimsical affinity to paradox in them: He
there was, in his calculation, but one supereminent wrote verses upon dancing, and prose upon the
character in the kingdom of Ireland, and he the origin of evil; yet he was a very indifferent metaprinter of the Dublin Journal, rank was no shield  physician, and a worse dancer: ill-nature and peragainst George's arrows, which flew  where he sonality, with the single exception of his lines upon
listed, and hit or missed as chance directed,-he  Johnson, I never heard fall from his lips: Those
cared not about consequences. He gave good meat lines I have forgotten, though I believe I was the
and excellent claret in abundance. I sat at his table first person to whom he recited them; they were
once from dinner till two in the morning, whilst very bad, but he had been told that Johnson ridi.
George swallowed immense potations, with one culed his metaphysics, and some of us had just
solitary sodden strawberry at the bottom of the then been making extemporary epitaphs upon each
glass,-which he said was recommended to him by  other. Though his wit was harmless, yet the gene
bis doctor for its cooling properties! He never lost ral cast of it was ironical; there was a terseness in




LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU.                                      71
nas repartees, that had a play of words as well as found by Johnson, in the act of meditating on ths
of thought; as, when speaking of the difference melancholy alternative before him. He showed
between laying out money upon land, or purchasing Johnson his manuscript of the Vicar of Wakefield,
into the funds, he said' One was principal without but seemed to be without any plan, or even hope,
interest, and the other interest without principal.' of raising money upon the disposal of it; when
Certain it is he had a brevity of expression, that Johnson cast his eye upon it, he discovered some.
never hung upon the ear, and you felt the point in thing that gave him hope, and immediately took it
the very moment that he made the push."       to Dodsley, who paid down the price above-menpp. 247-249.   tioned in ready money, and added an eventual conOf Goldsmith he says,                       dition upon its future sale. Johnson described the
precautions he took in concealing the amount of the
"That he was fantastically and whimsically vain, sum he had in hand, which he prudently adminisall the world knows; but there was no malice in tered to him by a guinea at a time. In the event
his heart. He was tenacious to a ridiculous ex- he paid off the landlady's score, and redeemed the
treme of certain pretensions that did not, and by person of his friend from her embraces."'-p. 273.
nature could not, belong to him, and at the same
time he was inexcusably careless of the fame which    We wilt pronounce no general judgrent on
he had powers to command. What foibles he had the literary merib of Mr. Cumberland; but
he took no pains to conceal; and the good qualities our opinion of them  certainly has not been
of his heart were too frequently obscured by the raised by the perusal of these memoirs. There
carelessness of his conduct, and the frivolity of his is no depth of thought, nor dignity of sentimanners. Sir Joshua Reynolds was very good to ment about him; —he is too frisky for an old
him, and would have drilled him into better trinim   a   too
and order for society, if he would have been amen- man, and too gossipping for an historian. His
able; for Reynolds was a perfect gentleman, had style is too negligent even for the most famigood sense, great propriety, with all the social at- liar composition; and though he has proved
tributes, and all the graces of hospitality, equal to himself, upon other occasions, to be a great
any man.                                       master of good English, he has admitted a'
"Distress drove Goldsmith upon undertakings number of phrases into this work which we
neither congenial with his studies nor worthy of his
talents. I remember him, when in his chambers are inclined to think, would scarcely pass
in the Temple, he showed me the beginning of his current even in conversation.  a I declare to
Animated Nature; it was with a sigh, such as truth"-" with the greatest pleasure in life"
genius draws, when hard necessity diverts it from  "c she would lead off in her best manner," &c.
Its bent to drudge for bread, and talk of birds and are expressions which we should not expect
beasts and creeping things, which Pidcock's show-                        which 
man would have done as well. Poor fellow, he o hear in the society to which Mr. Cumberhardly knew an ass from'a mule, nor a turkey land belongs; —laid,  for lay, is still more
from a goose, but when he saw it on the table."   insufferable from the antagonist of Lowth and
pp. 257-259.   the descendant of Bentley; —" querulential"
" I have heard Dr. Johnson relate with infinite  strikes our ear as exotic;-"- locate locations
humour the circumstance of his rescuing Goldsmith and         for
from a ridiculous dilemma, by the purchase-money and locality  for situation simply seem  also
of his Vicar of Wakefield, which he sold on his    be bad; and "intuition" for observation
behalf to Dodsley, and, as I think, for the sum of sounds very pedantic, to say the least of it.
ten pounds only. He had run up a debt with his Upon the whole, however, this volume is not
landlady, for board and lodging, of some few  the work of an ordinary writer; and we should
pounds, and was at his wits end how to wipe off probably have been more indulgent to its
the score, and keep a roof over his head, except by faults, if the excellence of some of the auclosing with a very staggering proposal on her part, thor's former productions had not sent us to
and taking his creditor to wife, whose charms were
very far from alluring, whilst her demands were its perusal with expectations perhaps someextremely urgent. In this crisis of his fate he was what extravagant.
tvC1,  IS 03.)
The Works of the Right Honourable Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Including her Correspond.
ence, Poems, and Essays.  Published by permission, from  her OriginalPapers.  5 vols.
8vo.  London: 1803.
THESE volumes are so very entertaining that the facts are narrated.  As the letters them —
we ran them  all through immediately upon  selves, however, are arranged in a chronologi.
their coming into our possession; and at the  cal order, and commonly contain very distinct
same time contain so little that is either diffi- notices of the writer's situation at their dates,
cult or profound, that we may venture to give  we shall be enabled, by our extracts from
some account of them to our readers without them, to give a pretty clear idea of her Lady.farther deliberation.                          ship's life and adventures, with very little as-.
The only thing that disappointed us was the  sistance from  the meagre narrative of Mr.
memoir of the writer's life, prefixed by the  Dallaway.
editor to her correspondence. In point of com-   Lady Mary Pierrepoint, eldest daughter of
position it is very tame and inelegant; and  the Duke of Kingston, was born in 1690; and
O-ther excites than gratifies the curiosity of gave, in her early youth, such indications of a:he reader, by the imperfect manner in which  studious disposition, that she was initiated intc




712                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
the rudiments of the learned languages along  acter in a different light, and was at any rate
with her brother.  Her first years appear to  biassed by her inclinations, appears to have
have been spent in retirement; and yet the addressed a great number of letters to him
very first series of letters with which we are  upon this occasion; and to have been at conpresented. indicates a great deal of that talent siderable pains to relieve him of his scruples,
for ridicule, and power of observation, by  and restore his confidence in the substantial
which she afterwards became so famous, and  excellences of her character.  These letters,
so formidable.  These letters (about a dozen  which are written with a great deal of female
in number) are addressed to Mrs. Wortley, the  spirit and masculine sense, impress us with a
mother of her future husband; and, along with  very favourable notion of the talents and dis.
a good deal of girlish flattery and affectation, positions of the writer; and as they exhibit
display such a degree of easy humour and  her in a point of view altogether different from
sound penetration, as is not often to be met any in which she has hitherto been presented
with in a damsel of nineteen, even in this age  to the public, we shall venture upon a pretty
of precocity.  The followPng letter, in 1709, long extract.
is written upon the misbehaviour of one of her
is written upon the misbehaviour of one of her   "I will state the case to you as plainly as I can,
and then ask yourself if you use me well. I have
" My knighterrantry is at an end; and I believe I showed, in every action of my life, an esteem for
shall henceforward think freeing of galley-slaves you, that at least challenges a grateful regard. I
and knocking down windmills, more laudable un. have even trusted my reputation in your hands; for
dertakings than the defence of any woman's repu. I have made no scruple of giving you, under my
tation whatever. To say truth, I have never had  own hand, an assurance of my friendship. After
any great esteem for the generality of the fair sex; all this, I exact nothing from you: If you find it inand -my only consolation for being of that gender, convenient for your affairs to take so small a fortune,
has been the assurance it gave me of never being  I desire you to sacrifice nothing to me: I pretend
married to any one among them! But I        own, at  o tie upon your honour; but, in recompense for so
present, I am so much out of humour with the ac- clear and so disinterested a proceeding, must I ever
tions of Lady H * * *, that I never was so heartily  receive injuries and ill usage?
ashamed of my petticoats before. My only refuge    "Perhaps I have been indiscreet: I came young
is, the sincere hope that she is out of her senses; into the hurry of the world; a great innocence, and
and taking herself for the Queen of Sheba, and Mr. an undesigning gaiety, may possibly have been conMildmay for King Solomon, I do not think it quite strued coquetry, and a desire of being followed,
so ridiculous: But the men, you may well imagine, though never meant by me. I cannot answer for
are not so charitable; and they agree in the kind  the observations that may be made on me. All who
reflection, that nothing hinders womern from playing are malicious attack the careless and defenceless: I
the fool, but not having it in their power."   own myself to be both. I know not any thing I can
Vol. i. pp. 180, 181.   say more to show my perfect desire of pleasing you,
and making you easy, than to proffer to be confined
In the course of this correspondence with  with you in what manner you please. Would any
the mother, Lady Mary appears to have con- woman but me renounce all the world for one? or
ceived a very favourable opinion of the son; would any man but you be insensible of such a
and the next series of letters contains her an- proof of sincerity?"-Vol. i. pp. 208-210.
tenuptial correspondence with that gentleman,;I One part of my character is not so good, nor
from  171 to  1712.T ho      h                 t' other so bad, as you fancy it. Should we ever live
frolm 17 10to 1712. Though this correspond- together, you would be disappointed both ways;
ence has interested and entertained us as you would find an easy equality of temper you do
much at least as any thing in the book, we are  not expect, and a thousand faults you do not imaafraid that it will afford but little gratification  gine. You think, if you married me, I should be
to the common admirers of love letters. Her passionately fond of you one month, and of someLadyshiqp though en(Idowed with a very lively  body else the next. Neither would happen. I can
esteem, I can be a friend; but I don't know wheimagination, seems not to have been very sus- ther I can love. Expect all that is complaisant and
ceptible of violent or tender emotions, and to easy, but never what is fond, in me.
have imbibed a very decided contempt for    - If you can resolve to live with a companion that
sentimental and romantic nonsense, at an age  will have all the deference due to your superiority
which is commonly more indulgent.  There  of good sense, and that your proposals can be
are no raptures nor ecstasies, therefore, in  agreeable to those on whom I depend, I have noare no raptures nor ecstasies, therefore  in  thing to say against them.
these letters; no flights of fondness, nor vows   " As to travelling,'tis what I should do with great
of constancy, nor upbraidings of capricious af- pleasure, and could easily quit London upon your
fection.  To say the truth, her Ladyship acts account; but a retirement in the country is not so
-a part in the correspondence that is not often  disagreeable to me, as I know a few months would
allotted to a female performer. Mr. Wortley, make it tiresome to you. Where people are tied
for life,'tis their mutual interest not to grow weary
though captivated by her beauty and her vi- of one another. IfI had the personal charms that
*vacity, seems evidently to have been a little  I want, a face is too slight a foundation for happialarmed at her love of distinction, her propen- ness. You would be soon tired with seeing every
sity to satire, and the apparent inconstancy of day the same thing. Where you saw nothing else,
her attachments.  Such a woman. he was you would have leisure to remark all the defects;
fraid, and not very unreasonably, wuld make  which would increase in proportion as the novelty
afraid, and not very unreasonably, would make lessened, which is always a great charm. I should
rather an uneasy and extravagant companion  have the displeasure of' seeing a coldness, which,
to a man of plain understanding and moderate  though I could not reasonably blame you for, being
fortune; and he had sense enough to foresee, involuntary, yet it would render me uneasy; and
and generosity enough to explain to her, the the more, because I know a love may be revived,
risk to which their mutual happiness might which absence, inconstancy, or even infidelity, has
extinguished: But there is no returning from a debe exposed by a rash and indissoluble union. gout eiven by satiety." —Vol. i. pp. 212-214.
Iadv Mary, who probably saw her own char-   "I begin to be tired of my humility; I have car




LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU.                                      713
tied my complaisances to you farther than I ought. an opinion of your merit, which, if it is a mistake,
You make new scruples: you have a great deal of I would not be undeceived. It is my interest to
fancy! and your distrusts, being all of your own  believe (as I do) that you deserve every thing, and
making, are more immovable than if there were are capable of every thing; but nobody else will
some real ground for them. Our aunts and grand- believe it, if they see you get nothing."-Vol. i.
mothers always tell us, that men are a sort of ani- pp. 250-252.
mals, that if ever they are constant,'tis only where
they are ill-used.'Twas a kind of paradox I could    The second volume, and a part of the third,
never believe; but experience has' taught me the are occupied with those charming letters,
truth of it. You are the first I ever had a corres- written during  Mr. Wortle ys embassy tc
ponfdnce with; and I thank God, I have done with Constantinople, upon which the literary repuit for all my life. You needed not to have told me tation of Lady Mary has hitherto been excluyou are not what you have been; one must be                                     be
stupid not to find a difference in your letters; You sively founded.  It would not become us to
seem, in one part of your last, to excuse yourself say any thing of productions which have so
from having done me any injury in point of fortune. long engaged the admiration of the public.
Do I accuse you of any?                       The grace and vivacity, the ease and concise"I have not spirits to dispute any longer with ness of the narrative and the description which
you. Ysu say you are not yet determined. Let they contain, still remain unrivalled we think
me determine for you, and save you the trouble of
writing again. Adieu for ever; make no answer. by any epistolary compositions in our lanI wish, among the variety of acquaintance, you may guage; and are but slightly shaded by a
find some one fo please you: and can't help the sprinkling of obsolete tittle-tattle, or womanvanity of thinking, should you try themn all, you ish vanity and affectation.  The authenticity
wont find one that will be so sincere in their treat- ofthese letters, though at one time dispute
ment, though a thousand more deserving, and every has not lately b    een calle d in question; but
one happier." —Vol. i. pp. 2L9-221.            has not lately been called in question; but
the secret history of their first publication has
These are certainly very uncommon pro- never, we believe, been laid before the public.
ductions for a young lady of twenty; and in- The editor of this collection, from the original
dicate a strength and elevation of character, papers, gives the following account of it.
that does not always appear in her gayer and    " In the later periods of Lady Mary s life, she
more ostentatious performances.  Mr. Wort- employed her leisure in collecting copies of the letley Awas convinced and re-assured by them; ters she had written during Mr. Wortley's embads-,
and they were married in 1712. The con- and had transcribed them herself, in two small
cluding part of the first volume contains her volumes in quarto. They were, without doubt,
letterst to him  for the two following years. sometimes shown to her literary friends. Upon her
etters to him  for the two following yea return to England for the last time, in 1761, she
There is not much tenderness in these letters; gave these books to a Mr. Snowden, a clergyman
nor very much interest indeed of any kind. of Rotterdam, and wrote the subjoined memoranMr. Wortley appears to have been rather in- dum on the cover of them;'These two volumes
dolent and  unambitious; and Lady Mary  are given to the Reverend Benjamin Snowden,'takes it upon her, with all delicacy and ju- minister at Rotterdam, to be disposed of as he
takes it upon her, with all delicacy and iU-  thinks proper. This is the will and design of M.
4icious management. however, to stir him   Worle   M aghi                willd design fM.
Wortley Montagu, December 11, 1761.'
up to some degree of activity and exertion.   " After her death, the late Earl of Bute commisThere is a good deal of election-news and sioned a gentleman to procure them, and to offer
small politics in these epistles.  The best of Mr. Snowden a considerable remuneration, which
them, we think, is the following exhortation  he accepted. Much to the surprise of that nobleto impudence.                                  man and Lady Bute, the manuscripts were scarcely
safe in England, when three volumes of Lady Mary
" I am glad you think of serving your friends. I Wortley Montagu's Letters were published by
hope it will put you in mind of serving yourself. I Beckett; and it has since appeared, that a Mr. Cleneed not enlarge upon the advantages of money; land was the editor. The same gentleman, who
every thing we see, and every thing we hear, puts had negotiated before, was again despatched to
s n remembrance of it.  If it were possible to re- Holland; and could gain no further intelligence
store liberty to your country, or limit the encroach. from Mr. Snowden, than that a short time before
ments of the prerogative, by reducing yourself to a he parted with the MSS. two English gentlemen
garret, I should be pleased to share so glorious a called on him to see the Letters, and obtained their
poverty with you: But as the world is, and will request.'Tley had previously contrived that Mr.
be,'tis a sort of duty to be rich, that it may be in Snowden should be called away during their peone's power to do good; riches being another word rusal; and he found on his return that they had is.
for power; towards the obtaining of which, the first appeared with the books. Their residence was
necessary qualification is Impudence, and (as De. unknown to him; but on the next day they brought
mosthenes said of pronunciation in oratory) the back the precious deposit, with many apologies. It
second is impudence, and the third, still, impi- lmay be fairly presumed, that the intervening night
dence! No modest man ever did, or ever will was consumed in copying these letters by several
make his fortune. Your friend Lord Halifax, R. amanuenses.''-Vol. i. pp. 29-32.
Walpole, and all other remarkable instances of    A fourth volume of Lady Mary's Letters,
quick advancement, have been remarkably impu- published in the same form in 1767, appears
dent. The ministry, in short, is like a play at
court: Ihere's a little door to get in, and a great now to have been a fabrication of Cleland's;
crowd without, shoving and thrusting who shall be as no corresponding MSS. have been found
foremost; people who knock others with their el- among her Ladyship's papers, or in the hands
bows, disregard a little kick of the shins, and still of her correspondents.
thrust heartily forwards, are sure of a good place.   To the accuracy of her local descriptions,
Your modest man stands behind in the crowd, is. and the justness of her representations of o
shoved about by every body, his clothes torn, almost ental manners  r epresentations of orll
squeezed to death, and sees a thousand get in before ental manners, Mr. Dallaway, who followed
him, that don't make so good a figure as himself.   her footsteps at the distance of eighty years,
"If this letter is impertinent, it is founded upon and resided for several months in the very




714                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
palace which she had occupied at Pera, bears Majesty, no bloodshed ensued. However, things
a decided and respectable testimony; and, in  are now tolerably accommodated; and the fair lady
vindication of her veracity in describing the  rides thrrough the town in the shining berlin of her
int ior  of he serag into wicno Crii   hero, not to reckon the more solid advantages of
interior of the seraglio, into which no Christianssid  e allows her. I
1001. a month, which'tis said, he allows her. I
is now permitted to enter, he observes, that will send you a letter by the Count Caylus, whom,
the reigning Sultan of the day, Achmed the if you do not know already, you will thank mle for
Third, was notoriously very regardless of the  introducing to you. He is a Frenchman, and no
injunctions of the Koran, and that her Lady- fop; which, besides the curiosity of it, is one of the
ship's visits were paid w~hiile the court uwas in  prettiest things in the world."-Vol. iii. pp. 120-122.
"retirement that enabled him  to    I write to you at this time piping-hot frdoh the
a retirement that enabled him  to dispense  birth-night; my brain warmed with all the agreeable
with many ceremonies.  We do not observe ideas that fine clothes, fine gentlemen, brisk tunes,
any difference between these'letters in the  and lively dances can raise there. It is to be hoped
present edition, and in the common copies, that my letter will entertain you; at least you will
except that the names of Lady Mary's corres- certainly have the freshest account of' all passages
pondents are now given at full length, and  on that glorious day. First, you must know that I
led up the ball, which you'll stare at; but what is
short notices of their families subjoined, upon  more, I believe in my conscience I matle one of
their first introduction. At page eighty-nie.more, I believe in my conscience I made one of
their first introduction.  At page eighty-nine  the best figures there: For, to say truth, people are
of the third volume, there are also two short grown so extravagantly ugly, that we old beauties
letters, or rather notes, from  the Countess of are forced to come out on show-days, to keep the
Pembroke, that have not hitherto been made  court in countenance. I saw Mrs. Murray there,
public; and Mr. Pope's letter, describing the  through whose hands this epistle will be conveyed;
I do not know whether she will make the same
death of the two rural lovers by lightning, is compliment to you that i do. Mrs. West was with
here given at full length; while the former her, who is a great prude, having but two lovers at
editions only contained her Ladyship's an- a time; I think those are Lord Haddington and Mr.
swer,-in which we have always thought that Lindsay; the one for use, the other for show.
her desire to be smart and witty, has intruded    "' The world improves in one virtue to a violent
itself a little ungracefully into the place of a degree-I mean plain dealing. Hypocrisy being,
as the Scripture declares, a damnable sin, I hope
The next series of letters consists of those our publicans and sinners will be saved by the open
The next series of letters consists of those profession of the contrary virtue. I was told by a
written to her sister the Cotuntess of Mar, from  very good author, who is deep in the secret, that at
1723 to 1727.  These letters have at least as this very minute there is a bill cooking up at a huntmuch vivacity, wit, and sarcasm, as any that ing seat at Norfolk, to have not taken out of the
have been already published; and though they  commandments, and clapped into the creed, the
contain little but the anecdotes and scandal ensuing session of' Parliament. To speak plainly,
othe time will long continue to be read anda I am very sorry for the forlorn state of matrimony;
of the time will long continue to be read and  which is now as much ridiculed by our young ladies
admired for the brilliancy and facility of the  as it used to be by young fellows: In short, both
composition.  Though Lady Mary is exces- sexes have found the inconveniences of it; and the
sively entertaining in this correspondence, we  appellation of rake is as genteel in a woman as a
cannot say, however, that she is either very  man of quality: It is no scandal to say Miss
amiable, or very interesting.  There is rather the maid of honour, looks very well now she is out
amiable, or v    ery interesting. There isnkthr   again; and poor Biddy Noel has never been quite
again; and poor Biddy Noel has never been quite
a negation of good affection, we think. through- well since her last confinement. You may imagine
out; and a certain cold-hearted levity, that we married women look very silly: We have noborders sometimes upon misanthropy, and  thing to excuse ourselves, but that it was done a
sometimes on indecency.  The style of the  great while ago, and we were very young when we
following extracts  however, we are afraid, did it"-Vol. iii. pp. 142-145. 
has been for some time a dead language            " Sixpenny worth of common sense, divided
among a whole nation, would make our lives roll
"I made a sort of resolution, at the beginning away glibly enough: But then we make laws,
of my letter, not to trouble you with the mention  and we follow customs.  By the first we cut off
of what passes here, since you receive it with so our own pleasures, and by the second we are anmuch coldness. But I find it is impossible to forbear swerable for the faults and extravagances of others.
telling you the metamorphoses of' some of your ac- All these things, and five hundred more, convince
quaintance, which appear as wondrous to me as me that I have been one of' the condemned ever
any in Ovid. Would any one believe that Lady  since I was born; and in submission to the Divine
H*****ss is a beauty, and in love? and that Mrs. Justice, I have no doubt but I deserved it, in some
Anastasia Robinson is at the same time a prude and pre-existent state. I will still hope, however, that
a kept mistress? The first of these ladies is ten- I am only in purgatory; and that after whining and
derly attached to the polite Mr. M***, and sunk in pining a certain number of years, I shall be transall the joys of happy love, notwithstanding she lated to some more happy sphere, where virtue will
wants the use of her two hands by a rheumatism, be natural, and custom reasonable; that is, in short,
and he has an arm that he cannot move. I wish I where common sense will reign.  I grow very
could tell you the particulars of this amour; which  devout, as you see, and place all my hopes in the
seems to me as curious as that between two oysters, next life.-being totally persuaded of the nothingand aswell worth the serious attention of naturalists. ness of this. Don't you remember how miserable
The second heroine has engaged half the town in  we were in the little parlour, at Thoresby? we then
arms, from the nicety of her virtue, which was not thought marrying would put us at once into possesable to bear the too near approach of Senesino in the sion of all we wanted. Then came -   though, after
opera; and her condescension in accepting of Lord  all, I am still of opinion, that it is extremely silly
Peterborough for her champion, who has signalized  to submit to ill-fortune. One should pluck up a
both his love and courage upon this occasion in as spirit. and live upon cordials; when one can have
many instances as ever Don Quixote did for Dul- no other nourishment. These are mny present encinea. Innumerable have been the disorders be- deavours; and I run about, though I have five
tween the two sexes on so great an account, besides thousand pins and needles in my heart. I try to
half the House of Peers being put under arrest. By console myself with a small damsel, who is at pre.
the Providence of Heaven, and the wise care of his sent every thing I like-but, alas! she is yet in a




LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGIT.                                     715
white fiock. At fourteen she may run away with   The last series of letters, which extends it, the
tne butler."-Vol. iii. pp. 178-180.            middle of the fifth volume, and comes down
"I cannot deny but that I was very well diverted  to the year 1761, consists of those that were
on the coronation-day. I saw the procession much
at my ease, in a house which I filled with my own addressed by Lacy   Mary  during her resicompany; and then got into Westminster-hall dence abroad, to her daughter the Countess
without trouble, where it was very entertaining to of Bute.  These letters, though somewhat
observe the-variety of airs that all meant the same less brilliant than those to the Countess of
thing. The business of every walker there was to Mar have more heart and affection in them
oonceal vanity and gain admiration. For these pur. than any other of her Ladyship's productions;
poses some languished and others strutted; but a an  abound in lively and judicious reflections
visible satisfaction was diffused over every counte-ly and judicious refectons.
nance, as soon as the coronet was clapped orn the They indicate, at the same time, a very great
head. But she that drew the greatest number of share of vanity; and that kind of contempt
eyes was indisputably Lady Orkney. She exposed and indifference for the world, into which the
behind, a mixture of fat and wrinkles; and before, veterans of fashion are most apt to sink.a considerable protuberance, which preceded her. With the exception of her daughter ard ber
Add to this, the inimitable roll of' her eyes, and her
grey hairs, which by good fortune stood directly children, Lady Mary seems by this time to
upright, and'tis impossible to imagine a more de- have, indeed, attained to the happy state of
lighiful spectacle. She had embellished all this with really caring nothing for any human being;
considerable magnificence, which made her look as and rather to have beguiled the days of her
big again as usual; and I should have thought her declining life with every sort of amusement,
one of the largest things of God's making, if my than to have soothed them  with affection or
Lady St. J***,t had not displayed all her charms in
honour of the day. The poor Duchess of M***se friendship.  After boasting of the intimacy
crept along with a dozen.of black snakes playing  in which she lived with all the considerable
round her face; and my Lady P**nd (who has fallen people in her neighbourhood, she adds, in one
away since her dismission from Court) represented  of her letters, " The people I see here make
very finely an Egyptian mummy embroidered over no more impression on my mind than the
with hieroglyphics. In general, I could not per-   more  impression on my me nd than the
ceive but that the old were as well pleased as the figures on the tapestry, while they are before
young: and I who dread growing wise more than my eyes. I know one is clothed in blue, and
any thing in the world, was overjoyed to find that another in red: but out of sight they are so
one can never outlive one's vanity. I have never entirely out of memory, that I hardly rememreceived the long letter you talk of, and am afiaid ber whether they are tall or short."
that you'have only fancied that you wrote it."
Vol. iii. pp. 181-183. The following reflections upon an Italian
story, exactly like that of Pamela, are very
In spite of all this gaiety, Lady Mary does much in character.
not appear to have been happy. Her discreet
biographer is silent upon the subject of her   "In my opinion, all these adventures proceed
connubial feictyadeavndsi        from artifice on one side, and weakness on the other.
connubial felicity; and we have no desire to An honest, tender heart, is often betrayed to ruin
revive forgotten scandals; but it is a fact, by the charms that make the fortune ofea designing
which c'annot be omitted, that her Ladyship  head; which, when joined with a beautiful face,
went abroad, without her husband, on account can never fail of' advancement-except barred by a
of bad health, in 1739, and did not return to  wise mother, who locks up her daughters from view
-England till she heard of his death in 1761. till nobody cares to look on them. My poor friend
the Duchess of Bolton was educated in solitude,
Whatever was the cause of their separation, with some choice of books, by a saint-like goverhowever, there was no open rupture; and she  ness: Crammed with virtue and good qualities,
seems to have corresponded with him very  she thought it impossible not to finid gratitude,
regularly for the first ten years of her absence. though she failed to give passion: and upon this
These letters, which occupy the latter part of  plan threw away her estate, was despised by her
the third volume, and the beginning of the  husband, and laughed at by the public. Polly, bred
the third      o ning        in an alehouse, and produced on  he stage, has obfourth, are by no means so captivating as most tained wealth and title, aud even found the way to
of the preceding. They contain but little wit, be esteemed!"-Vol. iv. p. 119, 120.
and no confidential or striking reflections.-    There is some acrimony, and some power
They are filled up with accounts of her health
and her journeys; with short and general no- of reviling, in the following extract:
tices of any extraordinary customs she meets    "I have only had time to read Lord Orrery's
with. and little scraps of stale politics, picked  work, which has extremely entertained, and not at
up ill the petty courts of Italy.  They are all surprised me, having the honour of being accold, in short, without being formal; and are  quainted with him, and knowing him for one of
those danglers after wit, who, like those after
gloomy and constrained  when compared with  beauty, spend their whole time in humbly admiring.
those which were spontaneously written to  Dean Swift, by his Lordship's own account, was
show her wit, or her affection to her corres- so intoxicated with the love of flattery, that he
pondents.  She seems extremely anxious to  sought it amongst the lowest of people, and the
impress her husband with an exalted idea of silliest of women; and was never so well pleased
the honours and distinction with which she with any companions as those that worshipped him,
while he insulted them. His character seems to
was everywhere received; and really seems me a parallel with that of Caligula; and had he
more elated and surprised than we should  had the same power, he would have made the same
have expected the daughter of an English  use of it. That Emperor erected a temple to himDuke to be, with the attentions that were  self, where he was his own high-priest, preferred
shown her by the noblesse of Venice, in par- his horse to the highest honours in the state, pro.
fessed enmity to the human race, and at last lost
ticular.  From  this correspondence we are his life by a nasty jest on one of his inferiors,
not temlpted to make any extract.              which I dare swear Swift would have made in his




216                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
place. There can be no worse picture made of the They place a merit in extravagant passlons; and
Doctor's morals than he has given us himself in the encourage young people to hope for impossible
letters printed by Pope. We see him vain, trifling, events, to draw them out of the misery they choose
ungrateful to the memory of his patron, making a to plunge themselves into; expecting legacies from
servile court where he had any interested views, unknown relations, and generous benefactors to
and meanly abusive when they were disappointed; distressed virtue,-as much out of nature as fairy
and, as he says (in his own phrase), flying in the face treasures."'-Vol. iv.. pp. 259, 260.
of mankind, in company with his adorer Pope. It   The idea of the following image, we be.
is pleasant to consider, that had it not been for the
good nature of these very mortals they contemn, lieve, is not quite new; but it is expressed in
these two superior beings were entitled, by their a very lively and striking manner.
birth and hereditary fortune, to be only a couple of he world   past its infancy, and will no longer
link-boys. I am of opinion, however, that their
friendship would have continued, though they had be contented with spoon-teat. A collective body
remained in the same kingdom. It had a very  of men make a gradual progress in understanding,
strong foundation-the love of flattery on one side, like a single individual. When I reflect on the vast
and the love of money on the other. Pope courted  increase of useful as well as speculative knowledge,
with the utmost assiduity all the old men from  the last three hundred years has produced, and that
whom be could hope a legacy, the Duke of Buck. the peasants of this age have more conveniences
ingham, Lord Peterborough, Sir G. Kneller, Lord  than the first emperors of Rome had any notion of,
Bolingbroke, Mr. Wycherly, Mr. Congreve, Lord  I imagine we may now be arrived at that period
which answers to fifteen. I cannot think we are
Harcourt, &c., and I do not doubt projected to older  when I recollect the many palpable follies
sweep the Dean's whole inheritance, if' hich are still (almost) universally persisted in.
have persuaded him to throw up his deanery, and  A     these I place
come to die in his house; and his general preach-   mong            hat of War-as senseless as
ing against money was meant to induce people to the boxing of school-boys; and whenever we come
throw it away, that he might pick it up."  to. man's estate (perhaps a thousand years hence), I
Vol. iv. pp. 142-147.   do not doubt it will appear as ridiculous as the
pranks of unlucky lads. Several discoveries will
Some of the following reflections will ap- then be made, and several truths made clear, of
pear prophetic to some people and we really  which we have now no more idea than the ancients
pear   exe  to fidte'nde   e dt      had of the circulation of the blood, or the optics of
did not expect to find them under the date o   Sir Isaac Newton." —Vol. v. pp. 15, 16.
1753.
After observing, that in a preceding letter,
jest of order, has long been growing in Eng a   her Ladyship declares, that "it is eleven years
~est'f oderhas ong  een  rowig InEn  since she saw herself in a glass, beinf so little
and I perceive, by the books you sent me, has made
a very considerable progress.  The heroes and pleased with the figure she was then beginheroines of the age, are cobblers and kitchen- ning to make in it,) -we shall close these exwenches. Perhaps you will say I should not take tracts with the following more favourable acmy ideas of the manners of the times from such count of her philosophy.
trifling authors; but it is more truly to be found
amo:ng them, than from any historian: as they write    "I no more expect to arrive at the age of the
merely to get money, they always fall into the no- Duchess of Marlborough, than to that of Methusations that are most acceptable to the present taste. lem; neither do I desire it. I have long thought
It has long been the endeavour of our English  myself useless to the world. I have seen one genewriters, to represent people of quality as the vilest ration pass away, and it is gone; for I think there
and silliest part of the nation, being (generally) very are very few of those left that flourished in my
low-born themselves. I am not surprised at their youth. You will perhaps call these melancholy
propagating this doctrine; but I am much mistaken  reflections; but they are not so. There is a quiet
if this levelling principle does not, one day or other, after the abandoning of pursuits, something like the
break out in fatal consequences to the public, as it rest that follows a laborious day. I tell you this
has already done in many private families."    for your comfort. It was formerly a terrifying view
Vol. iv. pp. 223, 224.   to me, that I should one day be an old woman. 1
now find that nature has provided pleasures for
She is not quite so fortunate in her remarks every state.  Those only are unhappy who will
on Dr. Johnson, though the conclusion of the  not be contented with what she gives, but strive to
extract is very judicious.                     break through her laws, by affecting a perpetuity
of youth,-which appears to me as little desirable
"The Rambler is certainly a strong misnomer: at present as the babies do to you, that were the
he always plods in the beaten road of his predeces- delight of your infancy. I am at the end of my
sors, following the Spectator (with the same pace a paper, which shortens the sermon."
pack-horse would do a hunter) in the style that is                      Vol. iv. pp. 314, 315.
proper to lengthen a paper. These writers may,   Upon the death of Mr. Wortley in 1761,
perhaps, be of service to the public, which is saying Lady Mary returned to England, ard died
a great deal in their favour. There are numbers Lady Mary returned to England
of both sexes who never read any thing but such  there in October 1762, in the 73d year of her
productions; and cannot spare time, from  doing age.  From the large extracts which we have
nothing, to go through a sixpenny pamphlet. Such been tempted to make from  her correspondgentle readers may be improved by a moral hint,       our readersly be enabled to
which, though repeated over and over, from gener  e ju             wl ea l be         b    tr dvge  of the character and genius of this exation to generation, they never heard in their lives.udge
I should be glad to know the name of this laborious traordinary woman. A little spoiled by flatauthor. H. Fielding has given a true picture of tery, and not altogether "undebauched by
himself and his first wife, in the characters of Mr. the world," she seems to have possessed a
and Mrs. Booth, some compliments to his own  masculine solidity of understanding, great
figure excepted; and I am persuaded, several of liveliness of fancy and suchpowers of obthe incidents he mentions are real matters of fact.
servation and discrimination of character as
I wonder, however, that he does not perceive Tom  seration and discrimination of character
Jones and Mr. Booth to be both sorry scoundrels. to give her opinions great authority on all the
All this sort of books have the same fault, which  ordinary subjects of practical manners and
I cannot easily nardon, being very mischievous. conduct.  After her marriage, she seern:s to




LIFE OF CURRAN.                                 711
)ave abandoned all idea of laborious or regu- the polite and witty sort of poetry which Lady
lar study, and to have been raised to the sta- Mary has attempted, is much more of an art
tion of a literary character merely by her than prose-writing. We are trained to the
vivacity and her love of amusement and anec- latter, by the conversation of good society,
dote. The great charm of her letters is cer- but the former seems always to require a good
tainly the extreme ease and facility with deal of patient labour and application. This
which every thing is expressed, the brevity her Ladyship appears to have disdained; and
and rapidity of her representations, and the accordingly, her poetry, though abounding in
elegant simplicity of her diction. While they lively conceptions, is already consigned to
unite almost all the qualities'of a good style, that oblivion in which mediocrity is destined,
there is nothing of the professed author in by an irrevocable sentence, to slumber till
them: nothing that seems to have been com- the end of the world. The Essays are ex.
posed, or to have engaged the admiration of tremely insignificant, and have no other merit,
the writer. She appears to be quite uncon- that we can discover, but that they are very
scious either of merit or of exertion in what few and very short.
she is doing; and never stops to bring out a   Of Lady Mary's friendship and subsequent
thought, or to turn an expression, with the rupture with Pope, we have not thought it
cunning of a practised rhetorician. The let- necessary to say any thing; both because we
ters from Turkey will probably continue to be are of opinion that no new lights are thrown
more universally read than any of those that upon it by this publication, and because we
are now given for the first time to the public; have no desire to awaken forgotten scandals
because the subject commands a wider and by so idle a controversy. Pope was undoubtmore permanent interest, than the personali- edly a flatterer, and was undoubtedly suffities and unconnected remarks with which the ciently irritable and vindictive; but whether
rest of the correspondence is filled. At the his rancour was stimulated, upon this occasame time, the love of scandal and of private sion, by any thing but caprice or jealousy,
history is so great, that these letters will be and whether he was.the inventor or the echo
highly relished, as long as the names they of the imputations to which he has given nocontain are remembered; —and then they toriety, we do not pretend to determine. Lady
will become curious and interesting, as ex- Mary's character was certainly deficient in
hibiting a truer picture of the manners and that cautious delicacy which is the best guarfashions of the time, than is to be found in dian of female reputation; and there seems to
most other publications.                  have been in her conduct something of that
The Fifth Volume contains also her Lady- intrepidity which naturally givcs rise to misship's poems, and two or three trifling papers construction, by setting at defiance the maxims
that are entitled her Essavs. Poetry, at least of ordinary discretion.
f(fan, I82U.)
1'e Life of the Right Honourable John Philpot Curran, late Master of the Rolls in Irelanw.
By his Son, WILLIAM HENRY CURRAN, Barrister-at-law. 8vo. 2 vols. pp. 970. London: 1819.
THIS is really a very good book; and not existed under any other conditions. The dis.
less instructive in its moral, and general scope, tracting periods of Irish story are still almost
than curious and interesting in its details. It too recent to be fairly delineated —and no
is a mixture of Biography and History-and Irishman, old enough to have taken a part in
avoids the besetting sins of both species of the transactions of 1780 or 1798, could wel2
composition-neither exalting the hero of the be trusted as their historian-while no one
biography into an idol, nor deforming the his- but a native, and of the blood of some of the
tory of a most agitated period with any spirit chief actors, could be sufficiently acquainted
of violence or exaggeration. It is written, on with their motives and characters, to commuthe contrary, as it appears to us with singular nicate that life and interest to the details
impartiality and temper-and the style is not which shine out in so many passages of the
less remarkable than the sentiments: For volumes before us. The incidental light which
though it is generally elegant and spirited, it they throw upon the national character and
is without any of those peculiarities which the state of society in Ireland, and the continual
age, the parentage, and the country of the au- illustrations they afford of their diversity from
thor, would lead us to expect:-And we may our own, is perhaps of more value than the
say, indeed, of the whole work, looking both particular facts from which it results; and
to the matter and the manner, that it has no stamp upon the work the same peculiar atdefects from which it could be gathered that traction which we formerly ascribed to Mr.
it was written either by a Young man-or an Hardy's life of Lord Charlemont.
Irishman-or by the Son of the person whose   To qualify this extraordinary praise, we
history it professes to record-though it has must add, that the limits of the private and
attractions which probably could not have the public story are not very well observed,




7i8                             MISCELLANEOUS.
nor the scale of the work very correctly regu- plaud. We suspect, indeed, from  various
lated as to either; so that we have alternately passages in these volumes, that the Irish
too much and too little of both: —that the standard of good conversation is radically difstyle is rather wordy and diffuse, and the ex- ferent from the English; and that a tone of
tracts and citations too copious; so that, on the exhibition and effect is still tolerated in that
whole, the book, like some others, would be country. which could not be long endured in
improved by being reduced to little more than good society in this. A great proportion of
half its present size-a circumstance which the'colloquial anecdotes in this work, confirm
makes it only the more necessary that we us in this belief-and nothing more than the
should endeavour to make a manageable ab- encomium bestowed on Mr. Curran's own constract of it, for the use of less patient readers. versation, as abounding in "those magical
Mr. Curran's parentage and early life are transitions from  the most comic turns of
now of no great consequence. He was born, thought to the deepest pathos, and for ever
however, of respectable parents, and received bringing a tear into the eye before the smile
a careful and regular education. He was a was off the lip."7 In this more frigid and faslittle wild at college; but left it with the char- tidious country, we really have no idea of a
acter of an excellent scholar, and was univer- man talking pathetically in good company,sally popular among his associates, not less and still less of good company sitting and cryfor his amiable temper than his inexhaustible ing to him. Nay, it is not even very consovivacity. He wrote baddish verses at this nant with our notions; that a gentleman should
time, and exercised himself in theological dis- be "most comical."
courses: for his first destination was for the   As to the taste and character of Mr. CurChurch; and he afterwards took to the Law, ran's oratory, we may have occasion to say a
very much to his mother's disappointment and word or two hereafter.-At present, it is only
mortification —who was never reconciled to necessary to remark, that besides the public
the change-and used, even in the meridian exercitations now alluded to, he appears to
of his fame, to lament what a mighty preacher have gone through the most persevering and
had been lost to the world, —and to exclaim, laborious processes of private study, with a
that, but for his versatility, she might have view to its improvement-not only accustomdied the mother of a Bishop! It was better ing himself to debate imaginary cases alone,
as it was. Unquestionably he might have with.the most anxious attention, but "reciting
been a very great preacher; but we doubt perpetually before a mirror,.' to acquire a
whether he would have been a good parish graceful gesticulation! and studiously imitapriest, or even an exemplary bishop.      ting the tone and manner of the most celeIrish lawyers are obliged to keep their brated speakers. The authors from whom he
terms in London; and, for the poorer part of chiefly borrowed the matter of these solitary
them, it seems to be but a dull and melan- declamations were Junius and Lord Bolingcholy noviciate. Some of his early letters, broke —and the poet he most passionately
with which we are here presented, give rather admired was Thomson.  He also used to
an amiable and interesting picture of young declaim occasionally from Milton —but, in his
Curran's feelings in this situation-separated maturer age, came to think less highly of that
at once from all his youthful friends and ad- great poet. One of his favourite exercises
mirers, and left without money or recommend- -was the funeral oration of Antony over the
ation in the busy crowds of a colder and more body df Cwesar, as it is given by Shakespeare;
venal people. During the three years he the frequent recitation of which he used to
passed in the metropolis, he seems to have recommend to his young friends at the Bar, to
entered into no society, and never to have the latest period of his life.
come in contact with a single distinguished    He was called to the Bar in 1775. in his.
individual. He saw Garrick on the stage, and twenty-fifth year-having rather imprudently
Lord Mansfield on the bench; and this ex- married two years before —and very soon athausts his list of illustrious men in London. tained to independence and distinction. There
His only associates seem to have been a few  is a very clever little disquisition introduced
of his countrymen, as poor and forlorn as him- here by the author, on the very different, and
self. Yet the life they lived seems to have almost opposite taste in eloquence which has
been virtuous and honourable. They con- prevailed at the Bar of England and Ireland
tracted no debts, and committed no excesses. respectively;-the one being in general cold
Curran himself rose early, and read dili- and correct, unimpassioned and technical; the
gently till dinner; and, in the evening, he other discursive, rhetorical, and embellished
usually went, as much for improvement as or encumbered, with flights of fancy and aprelaxation, to a sixpenny debating club. For peals to the passions. These peculiarities the
a long time, however, he was too nervous and author imputes chiefly to the difference in the
timid to act any other part than that of an au- national character and general temperament
ditor, and did not find even the germ of that of the two races, and to the unsubdued and
singular talent which was afterwards improved unrectified prevalence of all that is characterto such a height, till it was struck out as it istic of their country in those classes out of
were by an accidental collision in this obscure which the Juries of Ireland are usual y se.
arena. There is a long account of this in the lected. He ascribes them also, in part, to the
rook before us, as it is said to have been re- circumstance of almost all the barristers of
neatedly given by Mr. C. himself-but in a distinction having been introduced, very early
style which we cannot conscientiously ap- in life, to the fierce and tumultuary arena of




LIFE OF CURRAN.                                 719
the Irish House of Commons-the Government countries have consequently given way to that
being naturally desirous of recruiting their universal love of long-speaking, which, we
ranks with as many efficient combatants as verily believe, never can be repressed by any
possible from persons residing in the metropo- thing but the absolute impossibility of indulg.
l is-and Opposition looking, of course, to the ing it:-while their prolixity has taken a difsame great seminary for the antagonists with ferent character, not so much from the temwhom these were to be confronted.         perament of the speakers, as from the difference
We cannot say that either of these solutions of the audiences they have generally had to
is to us very satisfactory. There was heat address. In Ireland, the greater part of their
enough certainly, and to spare, in the Irish tediousness is bestowed on Juries-and their
Parliament; but the barristers who came there vein consequently has been more popular.
had generally kindled with their own fire, With us in Scotland the advocate has to speak
before repairing to that fountain. They had chiefly to the Judges-and naturally endeavformed their manner, in short. and distin- ours, therefore, to make that impression by
guished themselves by their ardour, before subtlety, or compass of reasoning, which he
they were invited to display it in that assem- would in vain attempt, either by pathos, pobly;-and it would be quite as plausible to etry, or jocularity.-Professional speakers, in
refer the intemperate warmth of the Parlia- short, we are persuaded, will always speak
mentary debates to the infusion of hot-headed as long as they can be listened to.-The quangladiators from the Bar, as to ascribe the gen- tity of their eloquence, therefore, will depend
eral over-zeal of the profession to the fever on the time that can be afforded for its display
some of them  might have caught in the -and its quality, on the nature of the audience
Senate. In England, we believe, this effect to which it is addressed.
has never been observed-and in Ireland it   But though we cannot admit that the causes
has outlived its supposed causes-the Bar of assigned by this author are the main or funthat country.being still (we understand) as rhe- damental causes of the peculiarity of Irish
torical and impassioned as ever. though its leg- oratory, we are far from denying that there is
isIature has long ceased to have an existence. much in it of a national character, and indiAs to the effects of temperament and cating something extraordinary either in the
national character, we confess we are still temper of the people, or in the state of society
more sceptical-at least when considered as among them. There is, in particular, a much
the main causes of the phenomenon in ques- greater Irascibility; with its usual concomition. Professional peculiarities, in short, we tants of coarseness and personality,-and a
are persuaded, are to be referred much more much more Theatrical tone, or a taste for
to the circumstances of the profession, than forced and exaggerated sentiments, than would
to the national character of those who exer- be tolerated on this side of the Channel. Of
cise it; and the more redundant eloquence of the former attribute, the continual, and, we
the Irish bar, is better explained, probably, by must say, most indecent altercations that are
the smaller quantity of business in their courts, recorded in these volumes between the Bench
than by the greater vivacity of their fancy, or and the Bar, are certainly the most flagrant
the warmth of their hearts. We in Scotland and offensive examples. In some cases the
have also a forensic eloquence of our own-  Judges were perhaps the aggressors-but the
more speculative, discursive, and ambitious violence and indecorum is almost wholly on
than that of England-but less poetical and the side of the Counsel; and the excess and
passionate than that of Ireland; and the pe- intemperance of their replies generally goes
culiarity might be plausibly ascribed, here far beyond any thing for which an apology
also, to the imputed character of the nation, can be found in the provocation that had been
as distinguished for logical acuteness and in- given. A very striking instance occurs in an
trepid questioning of authority, rather than for early part of Mr. Curran's history, where he
richness of imagination, or promptitude of is said to have observed, upon an opinion defeeling.                                  livered by Judge Robinson, "that he had
We do not mean, however, altogether to never met with the law as laid down by his
deny the existence or the operation of these Lordship in any book in his library;" and,
causes-but we think the effect is produced upon his Lordship rejoining, somewhat scornchiefly by others of a more vulgar description. fully, "that he suspected his library was very
The small number of Courts and Judges in smalls the offended barrister, in allusion to
England-compared to its great wealth, popu- the known fact of the Judge having recentlation, and business-has made brevity and ly published some anonymous pamphlets,
aespatch not only important but indispensable thought fit to reply, that "his library might
qualifications in an advocate in great practice, be small, but he thanked Heaven that, among
-since it would be physically impossible his books, there were none of the wretched
either for him or for the Courts to get through productions of the frantic pamphleteers of the
their business without them. All mere orna- day. I find it more instructive, my lord, to
mental speaking, therefore, is not only severely study good works than to compose bad ones!'
discountenanced, but absolutely debarred; My books may be few, but the title-pages
and the most technical, direct, and authorita- give me  the writers' names —my shelf is not
tive views of the case alone can be listened to. disgraced by any of such rank absurdity that
But judicial time, to use the language of Ben- their very authors are ashamed to own them."
tham  is not of the same high value, either in (p. 122.) On another occasion, when he was
Ireland or in Scotland; and the pleaders of those proceeding in an argument with his charac



72f0                             MISCELLANEOUS.
teristic impetuosity, the presiding Judge hav- influence with the priest to obtain a remission
ing called to the Sheriff to be ready to take His Lordship went accordingly to the cabin
into custody any one who should disturb the of the aged pastor, who came bareheaded to
decorum of the Court, the sensitive counsellor the door with his nlissal in his hand; and afat once applying the notice to himself, is re- ter hearing the application, respectfully anported to have broken out into the following swered, that the sentence havingbeen imposed
incredlible apostrophe-" Do, Mr. Sheriffs" re- by the Bishop, could only be relaxed by the
plied Mr. Curran, "go and get ready my dun- same authority-and that he had no right or
geon! Prepare a bed of straw for me; and power to interfere with it. The noble mediupon that bed I shall to-night repose with more ator, on this struck the old man! and drove
tranquillity than I should enjoy were I sitting him with repeated blows from his presence.
upon that bench, with a consciousness that I The priest then brought his action of damages
disgraced it!': —Even his reply to Lord Clare, -but for a long time could find no advocate
when interrupted by him in an argument be- hardy enough to undertake his cause!-and
fore the Privy Council, seems to us much more when young Curran at last made offer of his
petulant than severe. His Lordship, it seems, services, he was blamed and pitied by all his
had admonished him that he was wandering prudent friends for his romantic and Quixotic
from  the question; and Mr. C. after some rashness.
general observations, replied, "I am aware,   These facts speak volumes as to the utter
my lords, that truth is to be sought only by perversion of moral feeling that is produced
slow and painful progress: I know also that by unjust laws, and the habits to which they
error is in its nature flippant and compendious; give rise. No nation is so brave or so generous
it hops with airy and fastidious levity over as the Irish,-and yet an Irish nobleman could
proofs and arguments, and perches upon as- be guilty of the brutality of striking an aged
sertion, which it calls conclusion."-To Lord Ecclesiastic without derogating from his digClare, however, Mr. C. had every possible nity or honour. —No body of men could be
temptation to be intractable and impertinent. more intrepid and gallant than the leaders of
But even to his best friends, when placed on the Irish bar; and yet it was thought too,
the seat of judgment, he could not always daring and presumptuous for any of them to
forbear a similar petulance.  Lord Avonmore assist the sufferer in obtaining redress for an
was always niost kind and indulgent to him-  outrage like this. In England, those things
but he too was sometimes in the habit, it are inconceivable: But the readers of Irisb.
seems, of checking his wanderings, and some- history are aware, that where the question
times of too impatiently anticipating his con- was between Peer and Peasant-and still more
clusions. Upon one of these occasions, and when it was between Protestant and Catholic
in the middle of a solemn argument, we are -the barristers had cause for apprehension.
called on to admire the following piece of It was but about forty years before, that upon
vulgar and farcical stupidity, as a specimen a Catholic bringing an action for the recovery
of Mr. C's most judicious pleasantry:-      of his confiscated estates, the Irish House of
"'Perhaps, my lord, I am'trayin   but you Commons publicly voted a resolution, " that
"'' Perhaps, my lord, I am straying; but you allbarristers colicit
must impute it to the extreme agitation of my mind. all barristers, solicitors, attorneys, and proctors
I have just witnessed so dreadful a circumstance,   ho should be concerned for him, should be
that my imagination has not yet recovered from the considered as public enemies!" This was in
shock.'-His lordship was now all attention.-' On 1735. In 1780, however, Mr. C. found the
my way to court, my lord, as I passed by one of' service not quite so dangerous;  and by great
the markets, I observed a butcher proceeding to                           n
slaughter a calf. Just as his hand was raised. a eloquence and exertion extorted a reluctant
lovely little child approached him unperceived, and, verdict, and thirty guineas of damages; from
terrible to relate-I still see the life-blood gushing a Protestant Jury. The sequel of the affair
out-the poor child's bosom was under his hand, was not less characteristic. In the first place,
when he plunged his knife into-into'-' Into the it involved the advocate in a duel with a witbosom of the child!' cried out the judge, with much ness whom he had rather outrageously abused
emotion-' into the neck of the calf, my lord; but -and in the next place, it was thought suffiyour lordship sometimes anticipates!' " 
cient to justify a public notification to him, on
But this is not quite fair.-There is no more the part of the noble defendant, that his ausuch nonsense in the book-nor any other dacity should be punished by excluding him
Iricism  so discreditable to the taste either of from all professional employment wherever
its hero or its author. There are plenty of his influence could extend. The insolence
traits, however, that make one blush for the of such a communication might well have
degradation, and shudder at the government warranted a warlike reply: But Mr. C. ex
of that magnificent country.-One of the most pressed his contempt in a gayer, and not less
striking is supplied by an event in the early effectual manner. Pretending to misunderpart of Mr. C's professional history, and one stand the tenor of the message, he answered
to which he is here said to have been indebted aloud, in the hearing of his friends, " My good
for his first celebrity. A nobleman of great sir, you may tell his lordship, that it is in vain
weight and influence in the country-we for him to be proposing terms of accommodagladly suppress his name, though it is given tion; for after what has happened, I protest I
in the book-had a mistress, whose brother think, while I live, I never can hold a brief
being a Catholic, had, for some offence, been for him  or one of his family."  The threat,
sentenced to ecclesiastical penance-and the indeed, proved as impotent as it was pitiful;
younlgwoman solicited her keeper to use his for the spirit and talent which the young




LIFE OF CURRAN.                                   721
oounsellor had displayed through the whole self for the vulgar calumnies of an infuriated
scene, not only brought him  into unbounded  faction, in the friendship and society of such
popularity with the lower orders, but instantly men as Lords Moira, Charlemont, and Kilwarraised him  to a distinguished place in the den —Grattan, Ponsonby, and Flood.
ranks of his profession.*                     The incorporating union of 1800 is said to
We turn gladly, and at once, from  this have filled Mr. C. with incurable despondency
dreadful catastrophe.t Never certainly was as to the fate of his country. We have great
short-lived tranquillity-or rather permanent indulgence for this feeling-but we cannot
danger so dearly bought. The vengeance of sympathise with it. The Irish parliament
the law followed the havoc of the sword-  was a nuisance that deserved to be abatedand here again we meet Mr. C. in his strength and the British legislature, with all its partti
and his glory. But we pass gladly over these alities, and its still more blamable neglects,
melancholy trials; in which we are far from  may be presumed, we think, to be more acinsinuating, that there was any reprehensible cessible to reason, to justice, and to shame,
severity on the part of the Government. When  than the body which it superseded. Mr. C.
matters had come that length, they had but was not in Parliament when that great meaone duty before them-and they seem to have sure was adopted. But, in the course of that
discharged it (if we except one or two pos- year, he delivered a very able argument in
thumous attainders) with mercy as well as the case of Napper Tandy, of which the only
fairness: for after a certain number of victims published report is to be found in the volumes
had been selected, an arrangement was made before us. In 1802, he made his famous
with the rest of the state prisoners, under speech in Heveyes case, against Mr. Sirr, the
which they were allowed to expatriate them- town-major of Dublin; which aflords a strong
selves for life. It would be improper, how- picture of the revolting and atrocious barbariever, to leave the subject, without offering ties which are necessarily perpetrated, when
our tribute of respect and admiration to the the solemn tribunals are silenced, and inferior
singular courage, fidelity, and humanity, with agents intrusted with arbitrary power. The
which Mr. C. persisted, throughout these ago- speech, in this view of it, is one, of the most
nising scenes, in doing his duty to the unfor- striking and instructive in the published votunate prisoners, and watching over the ad- lume, which we noticed in our thirteenth voministration of that law, from the spectacle of lume. During the peace of Amiens, Mr. C.
whose vengeance there was so many tempta- made a short excursion to France, and was by
tions to withdraw.  This painful and heroic no means delighted with what he saw there.
task he undertook-and never blenched from  In a letter to his son from Paris, in October
its fulfilment, in spite of the toil and disgust, 1802, he says,and the obloquy and personal hazard. to which   I am glad I have come here. I entertained
it continually exposed him. In that inflamed many ideas of it, which I have entirely given up, or
state of the public mind, it is easy to under- very much indeed altered. Never was there a scene
stand that the advocate was frequently con- that could furnish more to the weeping or the grinfounded with the client; and that, besides the ning philosopher; they well might agree that hu.
murderous vengeance of the profligate inform- man affairs were a sad joke. I see it every where,
and in every thing. The wheel has run a complete
ers he had so often to denounce, he had to round; only changed some spokes and a few'felencounter the passions and prejudices of all lows,' very little for the better, but the axle certhose who chose to look on the defender of tainly has not rusted; nor do I see any likelihood
traitors as their associate. Instead of being of its rusting. At present all is quiet, except the.
cheered, therefore, as formerly, by the ap- tongue,-thanks to those invaluable protectors ofi
plauses of his auditors, he was often obliged to peace, the army!!"-Vol. ii. pp. 206, 207.
submit to their angry interruptions; and was   The public life of Mr. C. was now drawing
actually menanced more than once, in the to a close. He distinguished himself in 1804:
open court, by the clashing arms and indig- in the Marquis of Headfort's case, and in that'
nant menaces of the military spectators.  He of Judge Johnson in 1805: But, on the acceshad excessive numbers of soldiers, too, billet- sion of the Whigs to office in 1806, he was;
ted on him, and was in many other ways ex- appointed to the situation of Master of the
posed to loss and vexation: But he bore it all, Rolls, and never afterwards made any pjublic
with the courage of his country, and the dig- appearance. He was not satisfied with this
nity due to his profession-and consoled him- appointment; and took no pains to conceal his 
dissatisfaction. His temper, perhaps, was by
* The greater part of what follows in the original this time somewhat soured by ill health; and
paper is now omitted; as touching on points in the his notion of his own importance exaggerated'
modern history of Ireland which has been sufficient- by the flattery of which he had long been the
ly discussed under preceding titles. I retain only daily object. Perhaps, too, the sudden withwhat relates to Mr. Curran personally; or to those drawing of those tasks and excitements, to
peculiarities in his eloquence which refer rather to, to
his country than to the individual: though, for the which he had been  so long accustomed, co-.
sake chiefly of connection, I have made one allusion operating with the languor of declining age%
to the sad and most touching Judicial Tragedy may have affected his views of his own situawhich followed up the deplorable Field scenes of tion: But it certainly appears that he was
the rebellion of 1798.
The extinction of t he rebellion-by the saugh1798.  never very gay or good-humoured after his
t The extinction of the rebellion-by the slaugh- promotion-and passed but a dull and peevish
ter of fifty thousand of the insurgents, and upwards promotion-and passed but a dull and peevish
of twenty thousand of the soldiery and their adhe-time of it during the remainder of his life. In,,
oents!              46                       1810, he went, for the first time, to Scotland;




722                                MISCELLANEOUS.
and we cannot deny our nationality the plea-   In France, nowever, he was not much betsure of his honest testimony. He writes thus ter off-and returned, complaining of a conto a friend soon after his arrival on our shore:-  stitutional dejection, i" for which he could find
"I am greatly delighted with this country. You no remedy in water or in wine." He rejoices
see no trace here of the devil working against the in the downfall of Bonaparte; and is of opinion
wisdom and beneficence of God, and torturing and that the Revolution had thrown that country
degrading his creatures. It may seem the romanc- a century bacK.  in spring 1817, he began to
ing of travelling; but I am satisfied of the fact, that sink rapidly; and had a slight paralytic attack
the poorest man here has his children taught to read  in one of his hands.  He proposed to try
and write, and that in every house is found a Bible, another visit to France; and still complained
and in almost every house a clock: And the fruits
of this are manifest in the intelligence and manners of the depression of his spirits:-" he had a
of all ranks. In Scotland, what a work have the mountain of lead (he said) on his heart."
four-and-twenty letters to show for themselves!-  Early in October, he had a very severe shock
the natural enemies of vice, and folly, and slavery; of apoplexy, and lingered till the 14th, when
the great sowers, but the still greater weeders, of he expired in his 68th year.
the human soil. Nowhere can you see here the    Th
cringing hypocrisy of dissembled detestation, so in-  ere is a very able and eloquent chapter
separable from  oppression: and as little do you on the character of Mr. Curran's eloquencemeet the hard, and dull, and right-lined angles of encomiastic of course, but written with great
the southern visage; you find the notion exact and temper, talent, and discrimination. Its charm
the phrase direct, with the natural tone of the Scot- and its defects, the learned author refers to
tish muse.                                    the state ofenuine passion and vehement
" The first night, at Ballintray, the landlord at-  state of genuine passion and vehement
tended us at supper; he would do so, though we emotion in which all his best performances
begged him not. We talked to him of the cultiva- were delivered; and speaks of its effects on
tion of potatoes. I said, I wondered at his taking his auditors of all descriptions, in terms which
them in place of his native food, oatmeal, so much can leave no doubt of its substantial excelmore substantial. His answer struck me as very lence. We cannot now enter into these rhetoricharacteristic of the genius of Scotland-frugal, cal disquisitions-though they are full of intender, and picturesque.' Sir,' said he,' we are
not so much j' the wrong as you think; the tilth is terest and instruction to the lovers of oratory.
easy, they are.twift i' the cooking, they take little It is more within our province to notice, that
fuel; and then it is pleasant to see the gude wife he is here said to have spoken extempore at
wi' a' her bairns aboot the pot, and each wi' a po- his first coming to the Bar; but when his rising
tatoe in its hand.' "-Vol. ii. pp. 254-256. reputation made him more chary of his fame,
There are various other interesting letters he tried for some time to write down, and comin these volumes, and in particular a long one mit to memory, the more important parts of
to the Duke of Sussex, in favour of Catholic hispleadings. The result, however, was not at
Emancipation; but we can no longer afford  all encouraging: and he soon laid aside his pen
room  for extracts, and must indeed hurry  so entirely, as scarcely even to make any notes
through our abstract of what remains to be in preparation.  He meditated his subjects,
noticed of his life.  He canvassed the burgh  however, when strolling in his garden, or more
of Newry unsuccessfully in 1812. His health frequently while idling over his violin; and
failed very much in 1813; and the year after, often prepared, in this way, those splendid
he resigned his situation, and came over to passages and groups of images with which he
London in his way to France.  He seems at was afterwards to dazzle and enchant his adno time to have had much relish for English mirers.  The only notes he made were often
society.  In one of his early letters, he com- of the metaphors he proposed to employ-and
plains of "the proud awkward sulk" of Lon- these of the utmost brevity.  For the grand
don company, and now he characterises it peroration, for example, in H. Rowan's case
with still greater severity: —               his notes were as follows:-" Character of
Mr. R.  Furnace   Rebellion   smothered —.
" I question if it is much better in Paris. Here aMr. R. - Furnace - Rebellion - such slight
the parade is gross, and cold, and vulgar; there it
is, no doubt, more flippant, and the attitude more hints he spoke fearlessly-and without cause
graceful; but in either place is not Society equally  for fear.  With the help of such a scanty
a tyrant and a slave? The judgment despises it, chart, he plunged boldly into the unbuoyed
and the heart renounces it. We seek it because channel of his cause; and trusted himself to
we are idle; we are idle because we are silly; and the torrent of his own eloquence, with no
the natural remedy is some social intercourse, of better uidance than such landmarks as these.
which a few drops would restore; but we swallow 
the whole vial, and are sicker of the remedy than It almost invariably happened, however, that
we were of the disease."-Vol. ii. pp. 337, 338.   the experiment succeeded; "that his own
And again, a little after,-                 expectations were far exceeded; and that,
when his mind came to be more intensely
" England is not a place for society. It is too heated by his subject, and by that inspiring
cold, too vain,-without pride enough to be hum- confidence which a public audience seldom
ble, drowned in dull fantastical formality, vulgarized
by rank without talent, and talent foolishly recom- fails to infuse into all who are sufficiently
mending itself by weight rather than by fashion- gifted to receive it, a multitude of new ideas.
a perpetual war between the disappointed preten- adding vigour or ornament, were given oft,
sion of talent and the stupid overweening of affect- and it also happened, that, in the same pro
ed patronage; means without enjoyment, pursuits lific moments, and as their almost inevitable
without an object, and society without conversation
or intercourse: Perhaps they manage this better in consequence, some crude and fantastic notions
France-a few days, I think, will enable me to escaped; which, if they impeach their aureclde."-Vol. ii. pp. 345, 346.               thor's taste, at least leave him the merit of a




LIFE  OF CURRAN.                                     721
splendid fault, which none but men e. genius tincture of it to such writers as Milton, Bacon,
can commit." (pp. 403, 404.)  The best ex- or Taylor.  There is fancy and figure enough
planation of his success. and the best apology  certainly in their compositions: But there is
for his defects as a speaker, is to be found, we  no intoxication of the fancy, and no rioting
believe, in the following candid passage:-    and revelling among figures-no ungoverned
"The Juries among whom he was thrown, and and ungovernable impulse-no fond dalliance
for whom he originally formed his style, were not with metaphors-no mad and headlong purfastidious critics; they were more usually men  suit of brilliant images and passionate ex.
abounding in rude unpolished sympathies, and who pressions — no lingering among tropes and
were ready to surrender the treasure, of which melodies-no giddy bandying of antitheses
they scarcely knew the value, to him that offered an short, for per
them the most alluring toys. Whatever might have
been his own better taste, as an advocate he soon petual glitter, and panting after effect, till
discovered, that the surest way to persuade was to both speaker and hearer are lost in  the
conciliate by amusing them. With them he found splendid confusion, and the argument evapothat his imagination might revel unrestrained; that, rates in the heat which was meant to enforce
when once the work of intoxication was begun, it.  This is perhaps too strongly put; but
every wayward fancy and wild expression was as there are large rtions of Mr. C    Speeches
acceptable and effectual as the most refined wit;
and that the favotr which they would have refused to which we think the substance of the deto the unattractive reasoner, or to the too distant scription will apply.  Take, for instance, a
and formal orator, they had not the firmness to passage, very much praised in the work bewithhold, when solicited with the gay persuasive fore us, in his argument in Judge Johnson's
familiarity of a companion. These careless or li- case,-an argument, it will be remembered,
centious habits, encouraged by early applause and on a point of law  and addressed not to a Jury,
victory, were never thrown aside; and we can observe, in almost all his productions, no matter how but to a Judge.
august the audience, or how solemn the occasion,   "I am not ignorant that this extraordinary conthat his mind is perpetually relapsing into its primi- struction has received the sanction of another Court,
ive indulgences.''-pp.I 412, 413.             nor of the surprise and dismay with which it smote
The learned author closes this very able  upon the general heart of the Bar. I am aware that
and eloquent dissertation with some remarks I may have the mortification of being told, in anupon what he says is now denominated the other country, of that unhappy decision; and I
upon                      what he says is now denominated the foresee in what confusion I shall hang down my
Irish school of eloquence; and seems inclined  head when I am told of it. But I cherish, too, the
to deny that its profusion' of imagery implies consolatory hope, that I shall be able to tell them,
any deficiency, or even neglect of argument. that I had an old and learned friend, whom I would
As we had some share, we believe, in impo- put above all the sweepings of their Hall (no great
sing this denomination, we may be pardoned  tcompliment, we should think), who was of a different opinion —who had derived his ideas of civil
for. feeling some little anxiety that it should  liberty from the purest fountains of Athens and of
be rightly understood; and beg leave there- Rome-who had fed the youthful vigour of his
fore to say, that we are as far as possible from  studious mind with the theoretic knowledge of their
holding, that the greatest richness of imagery  wisest philosophers and statesmen-and who had
necessarily excludes close or accurate reason- refined that theory into the quick and exquisite
ing;  holding, on the contrary, that it- is fre- sensibility of moral instinct, by contemplating the
practice of their most illustrious examples-by
quently its most appropriate vehicle and na- dwelling on the sweet-souled piety of Cimon —on
tural exponent —as in  Lord  Bacon, Lord  the anticipated Christianity of Socrates —on the
Chatham, and Jeremy Taylor.  But the elo- gallant and pathetic patriotism of Epaminondasquence we wished to characterise  is that on that pure austerity of Fabricius, whom to move
where the figures and ornaments of speech  from his integrity would have been more difficult
do interfere with its substantial object-where  than to have pushed the sun from his course! I
fancy.istef not. min ibstrant but pominant-whr would add, that if he had seemed to hesitate, it
fancy is not ministrant  but predominant —  was but for a moment-that his hesitation was like
where the imagination is not merely awak- the passing cloud that floats across the morning sun,
ened, but intoxicated —and either overlays and hides it from the view, and does so for a moand obscures the sense, or frolics and gambols ment hide it, by involving the spectator without even
around it, to the disturbance of its march, approaching the face of the luminary.-And this
soothing hope I draw from the dearest and tenderest
and the weakening of its array for the con- recollections of my life —from the remembrance of
test:-And of this kind, we still humbly think, those attic nights, and those refections of the gods,
was the eloquence of Mr. Curran.               which we have spent with those admired, and re
His biographer says, indeed, that it is a mis- spected, and beloved companions, who have gone
take to call it Irish because Swift and Gold- before us; over whose ashes the most precious
smith  had none of it-and Milton antears of Ireland have been shed.  [Here Lord
andChatham had    muchf and Miltorv   t    td B n  Avonmore could not refrain from  bursting intc
and Chatham had much; and moreover, that tears.]  Yes, my good Lord, I see you do not forBurke and Grattan and Curran had each a get them. I see their sacred forms passing in sad
distinctive style of eloquence, and ought not review before your memory. I see your pained ana
to be classed together.  How old the style softenedfancyrecalling those happy meetings, where
may be in Ireland, we cannot undertake to the innocent enjoyment of social mirth became ex
say-though we think there are traces of it panded into the nobler warmth of social virtue, and
in Ossian. We would observe too, that, though  the horizon of the board became enlarged into the
in Ossian. We would observe too, that) t hough  horizon of man —where the swelling heart conceived
born in Ireland, neither Swift nor Goldsmith  and communicated the pure and generous purposewere trained in the Irish school, or worked  where my slenderer and younger taper imbibed its
for the Irish market; and we have already  borrowed light from the more matured and redunsaid. that it is totally to mistake our concep- daltfountain of yours."-Vol. i. pp. 139 —148.
tion of the style in question, to ascribe any    Now, we must candidly confess, that we




724                             MISCELLANEOUS.
do not remember ever to have read any thing -being often caught sobuing over the pathos
much more absurd than this-and that the of Richardson. or laughing at the humour of
puerility and folly of the classical intrusions Cervantes, with an unrestrained vehemence
is even less offensive, than the heap of incon- which reminds us of that of Voltaire. He
gruous metaphors by which the meaning is spoke very slow, both in public and private,
obscured. Does the learned author really and was remarkably scrupulous in his choice
mean to contend, that the metaphors here of words: He slept very little, and, like Johnadd either force or beauty to the sentiment? son, was always averse to retire at nightor that Bacon or Milton ever wrote any thing lingering long after he arose to depart-and, in
like this upon such a topic. In his happier his own house, often following one of his guests
moments, and more vehement adjurations, to his chamber, and renewing the conversation
Mr. C. is often beyond all question a great for an hour. He was habitually abstinent and
and commanding orator; and we have no temperate; and, from his youth up, in spite of
doubt was, to those who had the happiness all his vivacity, the victim of a constitutional
of hearing him, a much greater orator than melancholy. His wit is said to have been ready
the mere readers of his speeches have any and brilliant, and altogether without gall.
means of conceiving: —But we really cannot But the credit of this testimony is somewhat
help repeating our protest against a style of weakened by a little selection of his bons
composition which could betray its great mas- mots, with which we are furnished in a note.
ter, and that very frequently, into such pas- The greater part, we own, appear to us to be
sages as those we have just extracted. The rather vulgar and ordinary; as, wh'en a man
mischief is not to the master-whose genius of the name of Halfpenny was desired by the
could efface all such stains, and whose splen- Judge to sit down, Mr. C. said, "I thank your
did successes would sink his failures in obli- Lordship for having at last nailed that rap to
vion-but to the pupils, and to the public, the counter;" or, when observing upon the
whose taste that very genius is thus instru- singular pace of a Judge who was lame, he
mental in corrupting. If young lawyers are said " Don't you see that one leg gdes before,
taught to consider this as the style which like a tipstaff, to make room for the other?"
should be aimed at and encouraged, to ren- -or, when vindicating his countrymen from
der Judges benevolent,-by comparing them  the charge of being naturally vicious, he said,
to " the sweet-souled Cimon," and the " gal- "He had never yet heard of an Irishman being
lant Epaminondas " or to talk about their born drunk."  The following, however, is
own "young and slender tapers," and "the good-"I can't tell you, Curran," observed
clouds and the morning sun,"-with what an Irish nobleman, who had voted for the
precious stuff will the Courts and the country Union, " how frightful our old House of Com.
be infested! It is not difficult to imitate the mons appears to me."  "Ah! my Lord," redefects of such a style-and of all defects plied the other, "it is only natural for Murthey are the most nauseous in imitation. derers to be afraid of Ghosts "-and this is
Even in the hands of men of genius, the risk at least grotesque. " Being asked what an
is, that the longer such a style is cultivated, Irish gentleman, just arrived in England, could
the more extravagant it will grow, —just as mean By perpetually putting out his tongue.
those who deal in other means oft intoxica- Answer —'I suppose he's trying to catch the
tion, are tempted to strengthen the mixture English accent.'" In his last illness, his physias they proceed. The learned and candid cian observing in the morning that he seemed
author before us, testifies this to have been to cough with more difficulty, he answered,
the progress of Mr. C. himself —and it is still c" that is rather surprising, as I have been
more strikingly illustrated by the history of his practising all night."
models and imitators.  Mr. Burke had much   But these things are of little consequence.
less of this extravagance than Mr. Grattan-  Mr. Curran was something much better than
Mr. Grattan much less than Mr. Curran-and a sayer of smart sayings. He was a lover of
Mr. Curran much less than Mr. Phillips.-It his country —and its fearless, its devoted and
is really of some importance that the climax indefatigable servant. To his energy and talshould be closed, somewhere.              ents she was perhaps indebted for some mitiThere is a concluding chapter, in which gation of her sufferings in the days of her exMr. C.'s skill in cross-examination, and his tremity-and to these, at all events the public
conversational brilliancy, are commemorated; has been indebted, in a great degree, for the
as well as the general simplicity and affability knowledge they now have of her wrongs; and
of his manners, and his personal habits and for the feeling which that knowledge has
peculiarities. He was not a profound lawyer, excited, of the necessity of granting them re.
nor much of a general scholar, though reason- dress. It is in this character that he must
ably well acquainted with all the branches of have most wished to be remembered, and in
polite literature, and an eager reader of novels which he has most deserved it.




SIMOND'S SWITZERLAND.                                 725
(Notcenber,  1522.)
Povitzeland, or a Journal of a Tour and Residence in that Country in'he Years 1817, 1818
and 1819. Followed by an Historical Sketch of the Manners and Ctustoms of Ancient and
Modern Helvetia, in which the Events of our own time are fully detailed; together with the
Causes to which they may be referred. By L. SIMOND, Author of Journal of a Tour and Residence in Great Britain during the Years 1810 and 1811. In 2 vols. 8vo. London: J822.*
M. SIMOND is already well known in this accordingly, in all his moral and political obcountry as the author of one of the best ac- servations at least, a constant alternation of
counts of it that has ever been given to the romantic philanthropy and bitter sarcasm-of
world, either by native or foreigner-the full- the most captivating views of apparent hapest certainly, and the most unprejudiced-  piness arid virtue, and the most relentless disand containing the most faithful descriptions closures of actual guilt and misery-of the
both of the aspect of our country, and the pe- sweetest and most plausible i]]usions, and the
culiarities of our manners and character, that most withering and chilling truths. He exhas yet come under our observation. There patiates for example, through many pages,
are some mistakes, and some rash judgments; on the heroic valour and devoted patriotism
but nothing can exceed the candour of the of the old Helvetic worthies, with the memoestimate or the fairness and independence of rials of which the face of their country is
spirit with which it is made; while the whole covered-and then proceeds to dissect their
is pervaded by a vein of original thought, character and manners with the most cruel
always sagacious, and not unfrequently pro- particularity, and makes them  out to have
found. The main fault of that book, as a been most barbarous, venal, and unjust. In
work of permanent interest and instruction, the same way, he bewitches his readers with
which it might otherwise have been, is the seducing pictures of the peace, simplicity, in
too great space which is alloted to the tran- dependence, and honesty of the mountain
sient occurrences and discussions of the time villagers; and by and by takes occasion to
to which it refers-most of which have already tell us, that they are not only more stupid,
lost their interest, and not only read like old but more corrupt than the inhabitants of cities.
news and stale politics, but have extended He eulogises the solid learning and domestic
their own atmosphere of repulsion to many habits that prevail at Zurich and Geneva; and
admirable remarks and valuable suggestions, then makes it known to us that they are inof which they happen to be the vehicles.    fested with faction and ennui. He draws a
The work before us is marked by the same delightful picture of the white cottages and
excellences, and is nearly free from the faults smiling pastures in which the cheerfuil peasto which we have just alluded. In spite of ants of the Engadine have their romantic
this, however —perhaps even in consequence habitations-and then casts us down from
Df it-we suspect it will not generally be our elevation without the least pity, by inthought so entertaining; the scene being nec- forming us, that the best of them are those
assarily so much narrower, and the persons who have returned from hawking stucco parof the drama fewer and less diversified. The rots, sixpenny looking-glasses, and coloured
work, however, is full of admirable description sweetmeats through all the towns of Europe.
and original remark: —nor do we know any He is always strong for liberty, and indignant
book of travels, ancient or modern, which at oppression-but cannot settle very well in
Contains. in the  same compass, so many what liberty consists; and seems to suspect,
graphic and animated delineations of exter- at last, that political rights are oftener a source
nal objects, or so many just and vigorous ob- of disorder than of comfort; and that if perservations on the moral phenomena it records. son and property are tolerably secure, it is
The most remarkable thing about it. however mere quixotism to look further.
-and it occurs equally in the author's former   So strong a contrast of warm feelings and
publication-is the singular combination of cold reasonings, such animating and such deenthusiasm and austerity that appears both in spairing views of the nature and destiny of
the descriptive, and the reasoning or ethical mankind, are not often to be found in the same
parts of the performance-the perpetual strug- mind-and still less frequently in the same
gle that seems to exist between the feelings book: And yet they amount but to an extreme
and fancy of the author, and the sterner in- case, or strong example, of the inconsistencies
timations of his understanding.  There is, through which all men of generous tempers
and vigorous understandings are perpetually
* I reprint a part of this paper:-partly out of love passing., as the one or the other part of thei,o the memory of the author, *who was my connec- constitution assumes the ascendant.  There'ion and particular firiend:-but chiefly for the sake are many of our good feelings, we suspect,
)f his remarks on our English manners, and my and some even of our good principles, thal
judgment on these remarks-which I would ven-;lre to submit to the sensitive patriots of America, rest upon a sort of illusiot; or cannot submi;
is a specimen of the temperance with which the pa- at leat to be   questione d by frigid reason!riots of other countries can deal with the censors of without being for the time a good deal dis
their nlational habits and pretensions to fine breeding. countenanced and imnaired-and this we talc




726                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
to be very clearly the case with M. Simond. of destruction-a savabe enemy, speaking an un
His temperament is plaitly enthusiastic, and  known language, with whom no compromise conla
his fancy powerful: But his reason is active  be made.
and exacting, and his love of truth paramount   The first view  of the country, though no
to all other considerations.  His natural sym- longer new to most readers, is given with a
pathies are with all fine and all lofty qualities truth, and a freshness of feeling which we
-but it is his honest conviction, that happi- are tempted to preserve in an extract.
ness is most securely built of more vulgar
ness is most securely built of more vulgar   " Soon after passing the frontiers of the two
materials-and that there is even something  countries, the view, heretofore bounded by near obridiculous in investing our humble human na- jects, woods and pastures, rocks and snows, opened
ture with these magnificent attributes.  At all at once upon the Canton de Vaud, and upon half
all events it is impossible to doubt of his sin- Switzerland! a vast extent of undulating country,
aerity in both parts of the drepresentationf - -tufted woods and fields, and silvery streams and
cerity                      representation    lakes; villages and towns, with their antique towfor there is not the least appearance of a love  ers, and their church-steeples shining in the sun.
of paradox, or a desire to produce effect; and    "The lake of Neuchatel, far below on the left,
nothing can be so striking as the air of candour and those of Morat and of Vienne, like mirrors set
and impartiality that prevails through the in deep frames, contrasted by the tranquillity of
whole work.  If any traces of prejudice may  their lucid surfaces, with the dark shades and broken
still be detected, they have mani~festly  sur- grounds and ridges of the various landscape. Beyond this vast extent of country, its villages and
vived the most strenuous efforts to efface  towns, woods, lakes, and mountains; beyond all
them.  The strongest, we think, are against terrestrial objects-beyond the horizon itself, rose a
French character and English manners-with  long range of aiirial forms, of the softest pale pink
some, perhaps, against the French Revolution, hue: These were the high Alps, the rampart of
and its late Imperial consummator.  He is Italy-from  Mont Blanc in Savoy, to the glaciers
very prone to admire Nature-abut  not easily  of the Overland, and even further. Their angle
very pro ne to  admire Nature-bu t not easily  of elevation seen from this distance is very small
satisfied with Man; —and, though most in- indeed. Faithfully represented in a drawing, the
tolerant of intolerance, and most indulgent to  effect would be insignificant; but the aerial perthose defects of which adventitious advantages spective amply restored the proportions lost in the
make men most impatient, he is evidently of mathematical perspective.
Opinion that scarcely any thing is evintly aso   " The human mind thirsts after immensity and
opinion that scarcely any thinge is exactly. s immutability, and duration without bounds; but it
it should be in the present state of society-  needs some tangible object from which to take its
and that little more can be said for most flight,-something present to lead to futurity, someexisting  habits and  institutions, than  that thing bounded from whence to rise to the infinite.
they have been, and might have been, still This vault of the heavens over our head, sinking
worse.                                         all terrestrial objects into absolute nothingness,
might seem best fitted to awaken this sense of exHe sets out for the most picturesque country  pansion in the mind: But mere space is not a perof Europe, from  that which is certainly the  ceptible object to which we can readily apply a
least so:-and gives the first indicationsof his scale, while the Alps, seen at a glance between
sensitiveness on these topics, by a passing  heaven and earth-met as it were on the confines
critique on the ancient chateaus of France, of the regions of fancy and of sober reality, are
cand their former  inhabitants.    ofe may as there like written characters, traced by a divine
and their former inhabitants. We may as hand, and suggesting thoughts such as human lanwell introduce him  to our readers with this guage never r         tached
guage never reached.
passage as with any other.                       " Coming down the Jura, a long descent brought
rus to what appeared a plain, but which proved a;' A few comfortable residences, scattered about varied country with hills and dales. divided into neat
the country, have lately put us in mind how very  enclosures of hawthorn in full bloom, and large
rare they are in general: Instead of them, you meet, hedge-row trees, mostly walnut, oak, and ash. It
not unfrequently, some ten or twenty miserable had altogether very mtlch the appearance of the
hovels, crowded together round what was formerly  most beautiful parts of England. although the enthe stronghold of the lord of the manor; a narrow, closures were on a smaller scale, and the cottages
dark, prison-like building, with small grated win- less neat and ornamented. They differed entirely
dows, embattled walls, and turrets peeping over from France, where the dwellings are always colthatched roofs. The lonely cluster seems uncon- lected in villages, the fields all open. and without
nected with the rest of the country, and may be said trees. Numerous streams of the clearest water
to represent the feudal system, as plants in a hortus crossed the road, and watered very fine meadows.
siccus do the vegetable. Long before the Revolu- The houses, built of stone, low, broad, and massy,
tion, these chateaux had been mostly forsaken by either thatched or covered with heavy wooden shin.
their seigneurs, for the nearest country town; where gles, and shaded with magnificent walnut trees,
Monsieur le Compte, or Monsieur le Marquis, deco- might all have furnished studies to an artist."
rated with the cross of St. Louis, made shift to live                      Vol. i. pp. 25-27.
on his paltry seigniorial dues, and rents ill paid by
a starving peasantry; spending his time in reminis-    The following, however, is more charactercences of' gallantry with the old dowagers of the istic of the author's vigorous and familiar, but
place, who rouged and wore patches, dressed in somewhat quaint and abrupt, style of dehoops and high-heeled shoes, fill four inches, and  t
long pointed elbow-runffles, balanced with lead. Not scription.
one individual of this good company knew any thing    " Leaving our equipages at Ballaigne, we proof what was passing in the world, or suspected that ceeded to the falls of the Orbe, through a hanging
any change had taken place since the days of Louis wood of fine old oaks, and came, after a long deXIV. No book found its way there; no one read, scent, to a place where the Orbe breaks through a
not even a newspaper.  When the Revolution great mass of ruins, which, at some very remote'
burst upon this inferior nobility of the provinces, it period, have fallen from the mountain, and entirely
appeared to them like Attila and the Huns to-the obstructed its channel. All the earth, and all the
people of the fifth century-the Scourge of God, smaller fragments, having long since disappeared 
coming nobody knew whence, for the mere purpose and the water now works its way, with great noise




SIMOND'S SWITZERLAND.                                       721
and fury, among the larger fragments, and falls   "It rained all day yesterday, and we remained
above the height of eighty feet, in the very best shut up in our room at a German inn in Waldshut,
style. The blocks, many of them  as large as a enjoying a day's rest with our books, and observing
good-sized three-story house, are heaped up most men and manners in Germany, through the small
strangely, jammed in by their angles-inequilibrium  round panes of our casements. The projecting
on a point, or forming perilous bridges, over which roofs of houses afford so much shelter on both sides
you may, with proper precaution, pick your way  of the streets, that the beau sex of Waldshut were
to the other side. The quarry from which the ma- out all day long in their Sunday clothes, as if it had
terials of the bridge came is just above your head, been fine weather; their long yellow hair in a sinand the miners are still at work-air, water, frost, gle plait hung down to their heels, along a back
weight, and time!  The strata of limestone are made very strait by the habit of carrying pails of
evidently breaking down; their deep rents are milk and water on the head; their snow-white shiftwidening, and enormous masses, already loosened  sleeves, rolled up to the shoulder, exposed to view
from the mountain, and suspended on their preca- a sinewy, sun-burnt arm; the dark red stays were
rious bases, seem only waiting for the last effort of laced with black in front, and a petticoat scarcely
the great lever of nature to take the horrid leap, longer than the Scotch kilt, hid nothing of the lower
and bury under some hundred feet of new chaotic  limb, nor of a perfectly neat stocking, wellstretched
ruins, the trees, the verdant lawn-and yourself, by redgarters fullin sight.  The aged among them,
who are looking on and foretelling the catastrophe! generally frightfill, looked like withered little old
We left this scene at last reluctantly, and proceed- men in disguise."-Vol. i. pp. 87, 88.
ed towards the dent-de-vaulion, at the base of which
we arrived in two hours, and in two hours more    Of all the Swiss cities, he seems to have
reached the summit, which is four thousand fobur been most struck with Berne; and the imhundre thousand  thseventy-six fee above the sea, and  pression made by its majestic exterior, has
three thousand three hundred and forty-two feet even made him a little too partial, we think,
above the lake of Geneva.  Our path lay over even made him a little too partial,  e think
smooth turf, sufficiently steep to make it difficult to its aristocratic constitution. His description
to climb. At the top we found a narrow ridge, not of its appearance is given with equal spirit
more than one hundred yards wide. The south  and precision.
view, a most magnificent one, was unfortunately
too like that at our entrance into Switzerland to    These fine woods extend almost to the very
bear a second description; the other side of.the gates of Berne, where you arrive under an avenue
ridge can scarcely be approached without terror, of limes, wvich, in this season, perfume the air.
being almost perpendicular. Crawling, therefore, There are seats by the side of the road, for the conon our hands and knees, we ventured, in this modest venience offoot-passengers, especially women going
attitude, to look out of the window at the hundred  to ma ndinet, with a shee purpose  of receivng their
and fiftieth story (at least two thousand feet), and person standing, for the purpose of receiving their
see what was doing in the street.  Herds of cattle  baskets while they rest themselves on the bench:
in the infiniment petit were grazing on the verdant you meet also with fountains at regular distances.
lawn of a narrow vale; on the other side of which, The whole country has the appearance of English
a mountain, overgrown with dark pines, marked the pleasure-grourds.  The town itself stands on the
boundary of France. Towards the west, we saw  elevated banks of a rapid river, the Aar, to which
a piece of water, which appeared like a mere fish- the Rhine is indebted for one half of its waters. A
pond.  It was the lake of Joux, two leagues in sudden bend of the stream  encloses, on all sides
length, and half a league in breadth. We were to but one, the promontory on which the town is
look for our night's lodgings in the village on its built; the magnificent slope is in some places coverloobanks.''or-Vol. night's.lpp. 33-36. inthevillage ed with turf, supported in others by lofty terraces
" Bienne struck us as more Swiss than any thng  planted with trees, and commanding wonderful
we had yet seen, or rather as if we were entering  vew  over  the surrounding rich country, and the
Switzerland for the first time; every thing looked  high Alps beyond it.
and sounded so foreign: And yet to see the curiosity    "It is not an easy matter to account for the first
we excited the moment we landed and entered the impression  you receive upon entering Berne.  You
streets, we might have supposed it was ourselves certainly feel that you have got to an ancient and a
who looked rather outlandish.  The women wore great city: Yet, before the eleventh century, it had
their hair plaited down to their heels, while the full not a name, and its present population does not ex
petticoat did not descend near so far.  Several ceed twelve thousand souls. It is a republic; ye
groups of them, sitting at their doors, sung in parts, it looks kingly. Something of Roman majesty ap
with an accuracy of ear and taste innate among the pears in its lofty terraces; in those massy arches
Germans.  Gateways fortified with towers inter- on each side of the streets; in the abundance of
sect the streets, which are composed of strang    water flowing night aed day into gigantic basins
looking houses built on arcades, like those of- in the magnificent avenues of trees. The very
bridges, and variously painted, blue with yellow  silence, and absence of bustle, a certain stateliness
borders, red with white, or purple and grey; pro- and reserved demeanour in the inhabitants, by
jecting iron balconies, highly worked and of a showing it to be not a money-making town, implies
that its wealth springs from more solid and perglossy black, with bright green window frames.
The luxury of fountains and of running water is manent sources than trade can afford, and that
still greater here than at Neuchatel; and you might another spirit animates its inhabitants. In short,
be tempted to quench your thirst in the kennel, it of all the first-sight impressions and guesses about
runs so clear and pure.  Morning and evening, Berne, that of its being a Roman town would be
goats, in immense droves, conducted to orfrom the  nearer right than any other.  Circumstances, in
mountain, traverse the streets, and stop of them- some respects similar, have produced' like results
selves, each at its own door. In the interior of the  in the Alps, and on the plains of Latium, at the inhouses, most articles of furniture are quaintly shaped terval of twenty centuries. Luxury at Berne seems
and ornamented; old-looking, but rubbed bright, wholly directed to objects of public ttiiity. By the
and in good preservation; from the nut-cracker, side of those gigantic terraces, of those fine founcuriously carved, to the double-necked cruet, pour- tains, and noble shades, you see none but simple
ing oil and vinegar out of the same bottle. The  and solid dwellings, yet scarcely any beggarly
accommodations at theinn are homely, but not un- ones; not an equipage to be seen, but many a
comfortable; substantially good, though not ele- country wagon, coming to market, with a capital
gant. —Vol. i. pp. 65, 66.                      team of horses, or oxen, well appointed every way.
gan may a.d   the followirg  which is in the. "Aristocratic pride is said to be excessive al
We may add the followir-g which is in the. Berne; and the antique simplicity of its magistrates,
aame style.                                     the plain and easy manners they uniformly pro




728                                  MISCELLANEOUS.
serve in their intercourse with the people, are not In short, the friends of Genev a, among ot r mrodeils
by any means at variance with the assertion; for English travellers, are not nimerous-though they
that external simplicity and affability to inferiors is are select.  These last distinguished themselves
one of the characteristics of the aristocratic govern- during the late hard winter by their bounty to the
ment; all assumption of superiority being carefully  poor-not the poor of Geneva, who were sufficiently
avoided when real authority is not in question. assisted by their richer countrymen, but those of
Zurich suggests the idea of a municipal aristocracy; Savoy, who were literally starving.  If English
Berne of' a warlike one: there, we think we see travellers no longer appear in the same light as for.
citizens of a town transformed into nobility; here  merly, it is because it is not the same class of pee.
nobles who have made themselves citizens."       pie who go abroad, but all classes,-and not the best
Vol. i. pp. 213 —217.*   of all classes, either. They know this too, and say
it themselves; they feel the ridicule of their enorBut we must now hasten from the Physical mouits numbers, anthd of the absurd conduct of many
wonders of this country to some of the author's of them. They are ashamed and provoked; describe
Moral observations; and we are tempted to it with the most pointed irony, and tell many a hugive the first place to his unsparing but dis- morous story against themselves. Formerly, the
passionate remarks on the character of modern  travelling class was composed of young men of
English travellers.  At Geneva, he observes, good family and fortune, just coming of age, who,
English travellers. At Geneva, he observes  after leaving the University, went the tour of the
"English travellers swarm here, as everywhere  Continent under the guidance of a learned tutor,
else; but they do not mix with the society of the often a very distinguished man, or of men of the
country more than they do elsewhere, and seem to same class, at a more advanced age, with their
like it even less. The people of Geneva, on the families, who, after many years spent in professional
other hand, say,' Their former friends, the English, duties at home, came to visit again the countries
are so changed they scarcely know them  again. they had seen in their youth, and the friends they
They used to be a plain downright race, in whom a had known there. In those better times, when no
certain degree of scuvagerie  (oddity and shyness) Englishman left his country either to seek his foronly served to set off the advantages of a highly  tune, to save money, or to hide himself; when
cultivated understanding, of a liberal mind, and  travellers of that nation were all very rich or very
generous temper, which characterised them in gen. learned; of high birth, yet liberal priniciples; un
eral.' Their young men were often rather wild, but bounded in their generosity, and with means equal
soon reformed, and became like their fathers. In to the inclination, their high standing in the world
stead of this, we now see (they say) a mixed assem. might well be accounted for; and it is a great pity
blage, of whom lamentably few possess any of those  they should have lost it.  Were I an Englishman,
qualities we were wont to admire in their predeces- I would not set out on my travels until the new
sors. Their former shyness and reserve is changed  fashion were over."-Vol. i. pp. 356-359.
to disdain and rudeness. If you seek these modern    At Schaffhausen, again, he observes,
English, they keep aloof, do not mix in conversation, and seem to laugh at you. Their conduct,   "T'here were other admirers here besides ourstill more strange and unaccountable in regard to selves; some English, and more Germans, who
each other, is indicative of contempt or suspicion. filrnished us with an opportunity of comparing the
Studiously avoiding to exchange a word with their difference of national manners. The former, divided
countrymen, one would suppose they expected to into groups, carefully avoiding any communication
find a sharper in every individual of their own na- with each other still more than with the foreigners,
tion, not particularly introduced,-or at best a per- never exchanged a word, and scarcely a look, with
son beneath them. Accordingly you cannot vex or any but the legitimate interlocutors of their own set;
displease them more than by inviting other English  women adhering more particularly to the rule-from
travellers to meet them, whom they may be com- native reserve and timidity, full as much as from
pelled afterwards to acknowledge.  If they do not pride or from extreme good breeding. Some of the
find a crowd, they are tired. If you speak of the  ladies here might be Scotch; at least they wore the
old English you formerly knew, that was before the  national colours, and we overheard them  drawing
Flood! If you talk of books, it is pedantry, and  comparisons between what we had under our eyes
they yawn; of politics, they run wild about Bona- and Coralyn; giving justly enough, the preference
parte! Dancing is the only thing which is sure to  to the Clyde; but, at any rate, they behaved a
please them. At the sound of the fiddle, the think. l'Anglaise. The German ladies, on the contrary,
ing nation starts up at once. Their young people  contrived to ier conversation in indifferent French.
are adepts in the art; and take pains to become so, With genuine simplicity, wholly unconscious of forspending half their time with the dancing master  wardness, although it might undoubtedly have been
You may know the houses where they live by the so qualified in England, they begged of mty friend
scraping of the fiddle, and shaking of the floor, to let them  hear a few words in English, just to
which disturbs their neighbours. Few bring letters; know the sound, to which they were strangers. If
and yet they complain they are neglected by the  we are to judge of the respective merits of these
good company, and cheated by innkeepers. The  opposite manners, by the impression they leave, I
latter, accustomed to the.liilords A nglais of former think the question is already decided by the English
times, or at least having heard of them, think they  against themselves. Yet, at the same time that the
may charge accordingly; but only find des Anglais blame and deride their own proud reserve, and
pour rire, who bargain at the door, before they ven- would depart from it if they well knew how, but a
ture to come in, for the leg of mutton and bottle of few have the courage to venture:-and I really bewine, on which they mean to dine!'              lieve they are the best bred, who thus allow them" Placed as I am between the two parties, I hear selves to be good-humoured and vulgar."
young Englishmen repeat, what they have heard in                              Vol. i. pp. 94, 95.
France, that the Genevans are cold, selfish, ard in-    We have not much to say in defence of,erested, and their women des precieuses ridicules,
rthe very milliners and mantua-makers giving them- our countrymen-but what may be said truly,,selves airs of modesty and deep reading! that there ought not to be suppressed.  That our travelis no opera, nor theatre des varieteis; in short, that lers are now generally of a lower rank than
Geneva is the dullest place in the world.  Some  formerly, and that not very many of them are
~ay it is but a bad copy of England, a sham republic; fitted either by their wealth or breeding, to
*and a scientific, no less than a political, counterfeit.  7
uphold the character of the  not.le and honour.
* Many travelling details, and particular de-         rsons who once almost monopolised
criptions, are here omitted.                     the advantage, of foreign travel, is of course




SIMOND'S SWITZERLAND.                               729
implied in the fact of their having become after this period, ccnfined to the Ahildien of
vastly more numerous,-without supposing the gentry; and a certain parade in equipage
any actual degeneracy in the nation itself'. and dress, which could not be easily assumed
At a very popular point of M. Simond's jour- but by the opulent, nor naturally carried but
ney, it appeared from a register which he by those who had been long accustomed to
consulted, that the proportion of travellers it, threw additional difficulties in the way
from  different countries, was twenty-eight of those who wished to push themselves forEnglish to four Prussians, two Dutch, five ward in society, and rendered any other bulFrench, one Italian, and three Americans.-  warks unnecessary for the protection of the
That some of this great crowd of emigrants sanctuary of fashion.
might not be suitable associates for some   From the time of Sir Robert Walpole, howothers, may easily be conjectured-and that ever, the communication between the higher
the better sort may not have been very wil- and the lower orders became far more open
ling to fraternise with those who did least and easy. Commercial wealth and enterprise
honour to their common country, could scarce- were prodigiously extended -literature and
ly be imputed to them as a fault. But these intelligence spread with unprecedented raconsiderations, we fear, will go but a little way pidity among the body of the people; and
to explain the phenomenon; or to account for the increased intercourse between the differthe " Morgue Aristocratique," as Bonaparte ent parts of the country, naturally produced
called it, of the English gentry-the sort of a greater mixture of the different classes of
sulky and contemptuous reserve with which, the people. This was followed by a general
both at home and abroad, almost all who have relaxation in those costly external observances,
any pretensions to bon ton seem to think it by which persons of condition had till then
necessary to defend those pretensions. The been distinguished. Ladies laid aside their
thing has undoubtedly been carried, of late hoops, trains, and elaborate head-dresses; and
years, to an excess that is both ludicrous and gentlemen their swords, periwigs, and emoffensive-and is, in its own nature, unques- broidery;-and at the same time that it thus
tionably a blemish and a misfortune: But it became quite practicable for an attorney's
does not arise, we are persuaded, from any clerk or a mercer's apprentice to assume the
thing intrinsically haughty or dull in our tem- exterior of a nobleman. it happened also, both
perament —but is anatural consequence, and, that many persons of that condition had the
it must be admitted, a considerable drawback education that fitted them for a higher rankfrom two very proud peculiarities in our con- and that several had actually won their way
dition-the freedom of our constitution, and to it by talents and activity, which had not
the rapid progress of wealth and intelligence formerly been looked for in that quarter.in the body of the nation.                Their success was well merited undoubtedly,
In most of the other countries of Europe, and honourable both to themselves and their
if a man was not born in high and polished country; but its occasional occurrence, even
society, he had scarcely any other means of more than the discontinuance of aristocratical
gaining admission to it-and honour and dig- forms or the popular spirit of the Government,
nity, it was supposed, belonged, by inheri- tended strongly to encourage the pretensions
tance, to a very limited class of the people. of others, who had little qualification for sueWithin that circle, therefore, there could be no cess, beyond an eager desire to obtain it.derogation-and, from without it, there could So many persons now raised themselves by
be no intrusion. But, in this country, persons their own exertions, that every one thought
of every condition have been long entitled to himself entitled to rise; and very few proaspire to every situation-and, from the nature portionally were contented to remain in the
of our political constitution, any one who had rank to whioh they were born; and as vanity
individual influence, by talent, wealth, or ac- is a still more active principle than ambition,
tivity, became at once of consequence in the the effects of this aspiring spirit were more
community, and was classed as the open rival conspicuously seen in the invasion which it
or necessary auxiliary of those who had the prompted on the prerogatives of polite society,
strongest hereditary claims to importance. than in its more serious occupations; and a
But though the circle of Society was in this herd of uncomfortable and unsuitable comway at all times larger than in the Conti- panions beset all the approaches to gond comnental nations, and embraced more persons pany, and seemed determined to force all its
of dissimilar training and habits, it does not barriers.
appear to have given a tone of repulsion to    We think we have now stated the true
the manners of those who affected the supe- causes of this phenomenon-but, at all events,
riority, till a period comparatively remote. the fact we believe to be incontrovertible, that
In the days of the Tudors and Stuarts there within the last fifty years there has been an
was a wide pale of separation between the incredible increase of forwardness and solid
landed Aristocracy and the rest of the popu- impudence among the half-bred and halflation; and accordingly, down at least to the educated classes of this country —and that
end of Charles the Second's reign, there there was consequently some apology for the
seems to have been none of this dull and assumption of more distant and forbidding
frozen arrogance in the habits of good com- manners towards strangers, on the part off
pany. The true reason of this, however, was, those who were already satisfied with the exthat though the competition was constitution- tent of their society. It was evidently easier
ally open, good education was, in fact, till and more prudent to reject the overtures of




730                                MISCELLANEOUS.
unknown acquaintances, than to shake them  really form a part of our national character,
off after they had been once allowed to fasten  must concur, we think, with the alienation it
themselves-to repress, in short, the first at- produces in others, speedily to consign it to
tempts at familiarity, and repel, by a chilling the tomb of other forgotten affectations. The
and somewhat disdainful air, the advances of duties that we owe to strangers that come
all, of whom it might any way be suspected  casually into our society, certainly are not
that they might turn out discreditable or un- very weighty-and a man is no doubt entitled
fit associates.                              to consult his own ease, and even his indoThis, we have no doubt, is the true history  lence, at the hazard of being unpopular among
of that awful tone, of gloomy indifference such persons.  But, after all, affability and
and stupid arrogance, which has unfortunately  complaisance are still a kind of duties, in their
become so striking a characteristic of English degree; and of all duties, we should reall
manners. At its best, and when most justified  think are those that are repaid, not only with
by the circumstance of the parties, it has, we the largest share of gratitude, but with the
must allow, but an ungracious and disoblig- greatest internal satisfaction.  All we ask is,
ing air: But the extravagant height to which  that they, and the pleasure which naturally
it is now frequently carried, and the extraor- accompanies their exercise, should not be sadinary occasions on which it is sometimes dis- crificed to a vain notion of dignity, which the
played, deserve all the ridicule and reproba- person assuming it knows all the while to be
tion they meet with. We should not quarrel false and hollow-or to a still vainer assump.
much with a man of family and breeding tion of fashion, which does not impose upon
being a little distant and cold to the many one in a thousand; and subjects its unhappy
very affable people he may meet with, either victim to the ridicule of his very competitors
in his travels, or in places of public resort at in the practice.  All studied manners are ashome.  But the provoking thing is, to see the sumed, of course, for the sake of the effect
same frigid and unsociable manner adopted  they are to produce on the beholders: And if
in private society, and towards persons of the a man have a particularly favourable opinion
highest character, if they happen not to be- of the wisdom  and dignity of his physiognolong to the same set, or to be occupied with my, and, at the same time, a perfect conthe same pursuits with those fastidious mor- sciousness of the folly and vulgarity of his
tals-who, while their dignity forbids them to discourse, there is no denying that such a
be affable to men of another club, or women man, when he is fortunate enough to be where
of another assembly, yet admit to the fami- he is not known, will do well to keep his own
liarity of their most private hours, a whole secret, and sit as silent, and look as repulsive
gang of led captains, or led parsons, fiddlers, among strangers as possible. But, under any
boxers, or parasitical buffoons. But the most other circumstances, we really cannot admit
remarkable extravagance in the modern prac- it to be a reasonable, any more than an amiatice of this repulsive system, is, that the most ble demeanour.  To return, however, to M.
outrageous examples of it are to be met with  Simond.
among those who have the least occasion for   If he is somewhat severe upon our national
its protection,-persons whose society nobody  character, it must be confessed that he deals
would think of courting, and who yet receive still harder measure to his own countrymen.
the slightest and most ordinary civilities,-  There is one passage in which he distinctly
being all that the most courteous would ever states that no man in France now pretends to
dream  of offering them. — with airs of as any principle, either personal or political.
vehement disdain as if they were really in What follows is less atrocious, —and probably
danger of having their intimacy taken by nearer the truth.  It is the sequel of an encostorm! Such manners, in such people, are mium  on the domestic and studious occupano doubt in the very extreme of absurdity.-  tions of the well-informed society of Zurich.
But it is the mischief of all cheap fashions,
that they are immediately pirated by the vul- "Probably a mode of life so entirely domestic
would tempt few strangers, and in France particugar; and certainly there is none that can be larly, it would appear quite intolerable. Yet I doubt
assumed with so little cost, either of industry  whether these contemners of domestic dulness are
or understanding as this.  As the whole of it not generally the dullest of the two. Walking occonsists in being silent, stupid, and sulky, it casionally the whole length of the interior Bouleis quite level to the meanest capacity -and, vards of Paris, on a summer evening, I have geneiswe quiteno leveltothasenabldmane to pass rally observed on my return, at the interval of
we have no doubt, has enabled many to pass several hours, the very same figures sitting just
for persons of some consideration, who could  where I had left them; mostly isolated middle-aged
never have done so on any other terms; or men, established for the evening on three chairs,
has permitted them at least to think that they  one for the elbow, another for the extended leg, a
were shunning the society of many by whom  third for the centre of' gravity; with vacant looks
they would certainly have been shunned.       and a muddy complexion, appearing discontented
We trusttherefore  that this fashion of with themselves and others, and profoundly tired.
We  trust, therefore, that this fashion of A fauteuil in a salon, for the passive hearer of the
mock stateliness and sullen reserve will soon talk of others, is still worse, I take it, than the three
pass away. The extreme facility with which chairs on the Boulevard. The theatre, seen again
It may be copied by the lowest and dullest of and again, can have no great charm; nor is it every
mankind,-the caricatures which are daily one who has money to spare for the one, or free acexhibited of it in every disgusting variety,-cess to the other; therefore, an immense number
and the restraints it must impose upon theof people are driven to the Boulevard as a last reoand the restraints it must impose upon the source. As to home, it is no resource at all. No
yood nature and sociality which, after all, do one thinks of the possibility of employing hts time,




SIMOND'S SWITZERLAN1D.                                     731
there, Kether by himself or with his family. And    "Rousseau, from his garret, governed an em.
the result, upon the whole, is, that I do not believe  pire-that'of the mind; the founder of a new reli.
there is a country in the world where you see so gion in politics, and to his enthusiastic followers a
many long faces, care-worn and cross, as among  prophet-He said, and they believed!'Ihe discithe very people who are deemed, and believe them- ples of Voltaire might be more numerous, but they
selves, the merriest in the world. A man of rank. were bound to him by far weaker ties. Those of
and talent, who has spent many years in the Cri- Rousseau made the French Revolution, and permea, who employed himself diligently and usefully  ished for it; while Voltaire's, miscalculating  its
when there, and who naturally loves a country  chances, perished by it. Both, perhaps, deserved
where he has done much good, praising it to a their fate; but the former certainly acted the noblet
friend, has been heard to remark, as the main ob- part, and went to battle with the best weapons too,
jection to a residence otherwise delightful-' Mais -for in the deadly encounter of all the passions, of
on est oblige de s'aller coucher tous les soirs a sept the most opposite principles and irreconcilable preheures,-parcequ'en Crimde on ne sait pas oti aller judices, cold-hearted wit is of little avail. Heroes
passer la soiree!' This remark excites no surprise and martyrs do not care for epigrams; and he mnost
at Paris. Every one there feels that there can be have enthusiasm who pretends to lead the enthuno alternative,-some place, not home, to spend  siastic or cope with them.  Une intime persuasion,
your evenings in, or tobed at seven o'clock! It puts Rousseau has somewhere said, m'a toujours tenu
one in mind of the gentleman who hesitated about lieu d'eloquence! And well it might; for the first
marrying a lady whose company he liked very  requisite to command belief is to believe yourself.
much,' for,' as he observed,'where could I then  Nor is it easy to impose on mankind in this respect.
go to pass my evenings?' "-Vol. i. pp. 404, 405.  There is no eloquence, no ascendancy over the
The following, though not a cordial, is at minds of others, without this intimate persuasion in
least a candid testimony to the substantial yourself.  Rousseau's might only be a sort of poeteast a candid testimony to the substantial ical persuasion, lasting but as long as the oicasion;
benefits of the Revolution:-                   yet it was thus powerful, only because it was true,
" The clamorous, restless, and bustling manners though but for a quarter of an hour perhaps, in the
of the common people of Aix. their antiquated and  heart of this inspired writer.
ragged dress, their diminutive stature and ill-favour-   " Mr. M-, son of the friend of Rousseau, to
ed countenances, strongly recalled to my mind the whom  he left his manuscripts, and especially his
population of France, such as I remembered it Confessions, to be published after his death, had
formerly; for a considerable change has certainly  the goodness to show them to me.  I observed a
taken place, in all such respects, between the years fair copy written by himself, in a small hand like
1789 and 1815. The people of France are decidedly  print, very neat and correct; not a blot or an eraless noisy, and graver; better dressed, and cleaner  sure to be seen. The most curious of these papers,
All this may be accounted for; but handsomer is however, were several sketch-books, or memoranda
not so readily understood, a priori. It seems as if half filled, where the same hand is no longer disthe hardships of war, having successively carried  cernible; but the same genius, and the same way.
off all the weakly, those who survived have regen- ward temper and perverse intellect, in every fugi.
erated the species. The people have undoubtedly  tive thought which is there put down. Rousseat's
-gained much by the Revolution on the score of composition, like Montesquieu's, was laborious and
property, and a little as to political institutions. slow; his ideas flowed rapidly, but were not readily
They certainly seem conscious of some advantagee brought into proper order; they did not appear to
attained, and to be proud of it-not properly civil have come ii consequence of a previous plan; but
liberty, which is little understood, and not properly  the plan itself, formed afterwards, came in aid of
estimated, but a certain coarse equality, asserted in  the ideas. and served as a sort of frame for them,
small things, although not thought of in the essen- instead of being a system to which they were subtials of society. This new-born equality is very  servient. Very possibly some of the fundamental
touchy, as if it felt yet insecure; and thence a de- opinions he defended so earnestly, and fr which
gree of rudeness in the common intercourse with  his disciples would willingly have suffered martyrthe lower class, and, more or less, all classes, very  dom, were originally adopted because a bright
different from the old proverbial French politeness. thought, caught as it flew, was entered in his cornThis, though in itself not agreeable, is, however, a monplace book.
good sign.  Pride is a step in moral improvement,   " These loose notes of Rousseau afford a curious
from a very low state. These opinions, I am well insight into his taste in compesition.  You find
aware, will not pass in France without animadver- him perpetually retrenching epithets-reducing his
sion, as it is not to be expected the same judgment thoughts to their simplest expressiolt-giving words
will be formed of things under different circum- a peculiar energy,.by the new application of their
stances. If my critics, however, will only go three original meaning-going back to the naivets of old
or four thousand miles off, and stay away a quarter language; and, in the artificial process of simpliciofa century, I dare say we shall agree better when ty, carefully effacing the trace of each labolious
we compare notes on their return.'"            footstep as he advanced; each idea, each image,
Vol. i. pp. 333, 334.  coming out, at last, as if cast entire at a single
throw, original, energetic, and clear.  Although
The way in which M. Simond speaks of Mr. M-2  had promised to Rousseau that he would
Rousseau, affords a striking example of that publish his Confessions as they were, yet he took
struggle between enthusiasm  and severity-  upon himself to suppress a passage explaining cerromance and cool reason, which we noticed  tain circumstances of his abjurations at Anneci, afin the beginning as characteristic of the whole fording a curious, but frightfully disgusting, picture
in the beginning as characteristic of the whole
of monkish manners at that time. It is a pity that
work. He talks, on the whole, with contempt, Mr. M-  did not break his word in regard to some
and even bitterness, of his character: But he  few more passages of that most admirable and most
follows his footsteps, and the vestiges and  vile of all the productions of genius."
memorials even of his fictitious personages,                                Vol. i. pp. 564-566.
with a spirit of devout observance-visits    The following notices of Madame de Stail
Clareus, and pauses at Meillerie-rows in a are emphatic and original:burning day to his island in the lake of Bienue-expatiates on the beauty of his retreat at       I had seen Madame de Stail a child; and I saw
the Charmettes —and even stops to explore  her again on her deathbed. The intermediate years
are were spent in another hemisphere, as far as possible
his temporary abode at Moitier Travers. The from the scenes in which she lived. Mixing again,
following passages are remarkable:-             not many months since, with a world in which I am




732                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
a stranger, and feel that I must remain so, I just saw  void of affectation and trick, she made so fair and so
this celebrated woman; and heard, as it were, her irresistible an appeal to your own sense of her worth,
last words, as I had read her works before, uninflu- that what would have been laughable in any one
enced by any local bias. Perhaps, the impressions else, was almost respectable in her. That ambi.
of a man thus dropped from another world into this tion of eloquence, so conspicuous in her writings,
may be deemed something like those of posterity. was much less observable in her conversation;
" Madame de Stael lived for conversation: She there was more abandon in what she said than itt
was not happy out of a large circle, and a French what she wrote; while speaking, the spontaneous
circle, where she could be heard in her own lan- inspiration was no labour, but all pleasure. Con.
guage to the best advantage. Her extravagant ad- scious of extraordinary powers, she gave herself up
miration of the society of Paris was neither more to the present enjoyment of the good things, and
nor less than genuine admiration of herself. It the deep things, flowing in a full stream from her
was the best mirror she could get-and that was well-stored mind and luxuriant fancy. The inspiall. Ambitious of all sorts of' notoriety, she would ration was pleasure-the pleasure was inspiration;
have given the world to have been born noble and and without precisely intending it, she was, every
a beauty. Yet there was in this excessive vanity evening of her life, in a circle of company, the very
so much honesty and frankness, it was so entirely  Corinne she had depicted."-Vol. i. pp. 283-286.
(November, 1812.)
Rejected Addresses; or the New Theatrum Poetarum.  12mo. pp. 126. London: 1812.*
AFTER  all the learning, wrangling  and tried their hands at an address to be spoken
solemn exhortation of our preceding pages, at the opening of the New Theatre in Drury
we think we may venture to treat our readers Lane-in the hope, we presume, of obtaining
with a little morsel of town-made gaiety, the twenty-pound prize which the munificent
without any great derogation from our estab- managers are said to have held out to the suclished character for seriousness and contempt cessful candidate.  The names of the imagiof trifles.  We are aware, indeed, that there nary competitors, whose works are now offered
is no way by which we could so certainly in- to the public, are only indicated by their inigratiate ourselveswithour provincial readers, tials; and there are one or two which we
as by dealing largely in such articles; and  really do not know how to fill up.  By far the
we can assure them, that if we have not greater part, however, are such as cannot poshitherto indulged them  very often in this sibly be mistaken; and no reader of Scott,
manner, it is only because we have not often Crabbe, Southey, Wordsworth, Lewis, Moore,
met with any thing nearly so good as the or Spencer, could require the aid, even of their
little volume before us.  We have seen no- initials, to recognise them  in their portraits.
thing comparable to it indeed since the pub- Coleridge, Coleman, and Lord Byron, are not
lication of the poetry of the Antijacobin; and quite such striking likenesses. Of Dr. Busby's
though it wants the high seasoning of politics and Mr. Fitzgerald's, we do not hold ourselves
and personality, which no doubt contributed  qualifiedto judge-not professing to be deeply
much to the currency of that celebrated col- read in the works of these originals.
lection, we are not sure that it does not ex-   There is no talent so universally entertainhibit, on the whole, a still more exquisite ing as that of mimicry-even when it is contalent of imitation, with powers of poetical fined to the lively imitation of the air and
composition that are scarcely inferior.       manner-the voice, gait, and external deportWe must not forget. however, to inform our ment of ordinary individuals.  Nor is this to
country readers, that these "Rejected Ad- be ascribed entirely to our wicked love of
dresses" are merely a series of Imitations of ridicule; for, though we must not assign a
the style and manner of the most celebrated  very high intellectual rank to an art which is
living writers-who are here supposed to have I said to have attained to perfection among the
savages of New Holland, some admiration is
* I have been so much struck, on lately looking undoubtedly due to the capacity of nice obback to this paper, with the very extraordinary servation which it implies; and some gratifi.
merit and felicity of the Imitations on which it is    may  e    o
employed, that I cannot resist the temptation of cation            cently derived from  the
giving them a chance of delighting a new genera- sudden perception which it excites of pecution of admirers, by including some part of them in liarities previously unobserved.  It rises in
this publication. I take them, indeed, to be the interest, however, and in dignity, when it
very best imitations) and often of difficult originals) succeeds in expressing, not merely the visible
that ever were made: and, considering their great  and  external characteristics of ils objects but
extent and variety, to indicate a talent to which I
do not know where to look for a parallel. Some those also of their taste, their genius, and
few of them descend to the level of parodies: But temper.  A vulgar mimic repeats a man's
by far the greater part are of a much higher de- cant-phrases and known stories, with an exact
scription.  rhey ought, I suppose, to have come imitation of his voice, look, and gestures: But
under the head of Poetry,-but " Miscellaneous " he is an artist of a far higher description who
is broad enough to cover any thing.-Some of the can make stories or reasonings in his manner
less striking citations are now omitted. The au- can make  stories or reasonings in his manner;
thors, I believe, have been long known to have and represent the features and movements of
been the late Messrs. Smith.                  his mind, as well as the accidents of his body.




REJECTED ADDRESSES.                                733
The same distinction applies to the mimicry, precise conception of the causes of those opif it may be so called, of an author's style and posite sensations, —and to trace to the noblemanner of writing. To copy his peculiar ness of the diction and the inaccuracy of the
phrases or turns of expression-to borrow the reasoning-the boldness of the propositions
grammatical structure of his sentences, or the and the rashness of the inductions-the magmetrical balance of his lines-or to crowd and nificence of the pretensions and the feebleness
string together all the pedantic or affected of the performance. those contradictory judgwords which he has become remarkable for ments, with the confused result of which he
using-applying, or misapplying all these had been perplexed in the study of the original.
without the least regard to the character of The same thing may be said of the imitation
his genius, or the spirit of his compositions, is of Darwin, contained in the Loves of the Trito imitate an author only as a monkey might angles, though confessedly of a satirical oI
imitate a man-or, at best, to support a mas- ludicrous character. All the peculiarities of
querade character on the strength of the Dress the original poet are there brought together,
only; and at all events, requires as little talent, and crowded into a little space; where they
and deserves as little praise, as the mimetic can be compared and estimated with ease.
exhibitions in the neighbourhood of Port-Syd- His essence in short, is extracted, and sepa
ney. It is another matter, however, to be able rated in a good degree from what is common
to borrow the diction and manner of a cele- to him  with the rest of his species; —and
brated writer to express sentiments like his while he is recognised at once as the original
own-to write as he would have written on from whom all these characteristic traits have
the subject proposed to his imitator-to think been borrowed, that original itself is far better
his thoughts, in short, as well as to use his understood-because the copy presents no
words-and to make the revival of his style traits but such as are characteristic.
appear but a consequence of the strong con-   This highest species of imitation, therefore,
ception of his peculiar ideas. To do this in all we conceive to be of no slight value in fixing
the perfection of which it is capable, requires the taste and judgment of the public, even
talents, perhaps, not inferior to those of the with regard to the great standard and original
original on whom  they are employed-to- authors who naturally become its subjects.
gether with a faculty of observation, and a The pieces before us, indeed, do not fall cordexterity of application, which that original rectly under this denomination: —the subject
might not always possess; and should not only to which they are confined, and the occasion
afford nearly as great pleasure to the reader, on which they are supposed to have been proas a piece of composition, —but may teach him  duced, having necessarily given them  a cersome lessons, or open up to him some views, tain ludicrous and light air, not quite suitable
which could not have been otherwise disclosed. to the gravity of some of the originals, and
The exact imitation of a good thing, it must imparted to some of them a sort of mongrel
be admitted, promises fair to be a pretty good character in which we may discern the feathing in itself; but if the resemblance be very tures both of burlesque and of imitation.
striking, it commonly has the additional ad- There is enough, however, of the latter to anvantage of letting us more completely into the swer the purposes we have indicated above;
secret of the original author, and enabling us while the tone of levity and ridicule may
to understand far more clearly in what the answer the farther purpose of admonishing the
peculiarity of his manner consists, than most authors who are personated in this exhibition,
of us should ever have done without this as- in what directions they trespass on the borders
sistance. The resemblance, it is obvious, can of absurdity, and from what peculiarities they
only be rendered striking by exaggerating a are in danger of becoming ridiculous. A mere
little, and bringing more conspicuously for- parody or travestie, indeed, is commonly made,
ward, all that is peculiar and characteristic in with the greatest success, upon the tenderest
the model: And the marking features, which and most sublime passages in poetry-the
were somewhat shaded and confused in their whole secret of such performances consisting
natural presentment, being thus magnified and in the substitution of a mean, ludicrous, or
disengaged in the copy, are more easily ob- disgusting subject, for a touching or noble one.
served and comprehended, and their effect But where this is not the case, and where the
traced with infinitely more ease and assu- passages imitated are conversant with obiects
rance; —just as the course of a river, or a range nearly as familiar, and names and actions
of mountains, is more distinctly understood almost as undignified, as those in the imitawhen laid down on a map or plan. than when tion, the author may be assured, that what a
studied in their natural proportions. Thus, in moderate degree of exaggeration has thus
Burke's imitation of Bolingbroke (the most made eminently laughable, could never have
perfect' specimen, perhaps, which ever will been worthy of a place in serious and lofty
exist of the art of which we are speaking), we poetry.-But we are falling, we perceive, into
have all the qualities which distinguish the our old trick of dissertation, and forgetting our
style, or we may indeed say the genius, of benevolent intention to dedicate this article to
that noble writer, as it were, concentrated and the amusement of our readers.-We break
brought at once before us; so that an ordinary off therefore, abruptly, and turn without farreader, who in perusing his genuine works, ther preamble to the book.
merely felt himself dazzled and disappointed    The first piece, under the name of the loyal
-delighted and wearied he could not tell Mr. Fitzgerald, though as good, we suppose,
why, is now enabled to form a definite and as the original, s notveryinteresting. Whethex




734                                MISCELLANEOUS.
it be very like Mr. Fitzgerald or not, however,   The main drift of the piece, however, as
it mist be allowed that the vulgarity, ser- well as its title, is explained in the following
vility, and gross absurdity of the newspaper stanzas:scribblers is well rendered in the following,, How well would our artists attend to their duties,
Our house save in oil, and our authors in wit,
" Gallia's stern despot shall in vain advance  In lieu of yon lamps if a row of young beauties
From Paris, the metropolis of France;           Glanc'd light from their eyes between us and
By this day month the monster shall not gain          the pit.                        [is on
A foot of land in Portugal or Spain.          Attun'd to the scene, when the pale yellow moon
See Wellington in Salamanca's field             Tower and tree, they'd look sober and sage;
Forces his iavourite General to yield,  [Marmont And when they all wink'd their dear peepers in
Breaks through his lines, and leaves his boasted      unison,
Expiring on the plain without an arm on:        Night, pitchy night would envelope the stage.
Madrid he enters at the cannon's mouth,       Ah! could I some girl from yon box for her youth
And then the villages still further south!            pick,
Base Bonaparte, filled with deadly ire,         I'd love her-as long as she blossom'd in youth'
Sets one by one our playhouses on fire:        Oh! white is the ivory case of the toothpick,
Some years ago he pounced with deadly glee on   But when beauty smiles how much whiter the
The Opera HIouse-then burnt down the Pantheon:        tooth!"                  pp. 26, 27.
Nay, still unsated, in a coat of flames,
Next at Millbank he cross'd the river Thames.    The next entitled "The Rebuilding," is in
Who makes the quartern loaf and Luddites rise?   name of Mr. Southey; and is one of the best
Who fills the butchers' shops with large blue flies? in the collection.  It is in the style of the
Who thought in flames St. James's court to pinch? Kehama of that multifarious author; and is
Who burnt the wardrobe of poor Lady Finch?     supposed to be spoken in the character of one
Why he, who, forging for this Isle a yoke,     of his Glendoveers.  The imitation of the
of his Glendoveers.  The imitation of the
Reminds me of a line I lately spoke,'The tree of Freedom is the British oak.'"    diction and measure, we think, is nearly perfeet; and the descriptions quite as good as the
The next, in the name of Mr. W. Words- original.  It opens with an account of the
worth, is entitled'The Baby's D6but;" and burning of the old theatre, formed upon the
is characteristically announced as intended to pattern of the Funeral of Arvalan.
have been "spoken in the character of Nancy
Lake, a girl eight years of age, who is drawn        "Midnight, yet not a nose
upon the stage in a child's chaise, by Samuel     From  lower-hill to Piccadilly snored!
Hughes, her uncle's porter."] The author does         Midnight, yet not a nose
Hug-thes,                    -.  t               From Indra drew the essence of repose!
not, in this instance, attempt to copy any of          See with what crimson fury,
the higher attributes of Mr. Wordsworth's By Indra fann'd, the god of fire ascends the walls
poetry: But has succeeded perfectly aid the             of Drury!
Imitation of his mawkish affectations of child-    The tops of houses, blue with lead,
ish simplicity and nursery stammering.  We         Bend beneath the landlord's tread;
nope it will make him  ashamed of his Alice       aster and         serving-man and lord,
Nailor and tailor,
Fell, and the greater part of his last volumes         Grazier and brazier,
-of which it is by no means a parody, but a          Thro' streets and alleys pour'd,
very fair, and indeed we think a flattering            All, all abroad to gaze,
imitation.  We give a stanza or two as a              And wonder at the blaze."-pp. 29, 30.
specimen:                                        There is then a great deal of indescribable
"My brother Jack was nine in May,         intriguing between Veeshnoo, who wishes to
And I was eight on New Year's Day;         rebuild the house through the instrumentality
So in Kate Wilson's shop              of Mr. Whitbread, and Yamen who wishes to
Papa B he's my papa and Jacko's)          prevent it.  The Power of Restoration, howBought me last week a doll of wax,
And brother Jack a top.                ever, brings all the parties concerned to an
amicable meeting; the effect of which, on
" Jack's in the pouts-and this it is,     the Power of Destruction, is thus finely repreHe thinks mine came to more than his,      sated
So to my drawer he goes,
Takes out the doll, and, oh, my stars!         " Yamen beheld, and wither'd at the sight;
He pokes her head between the bars,          Long had he aim'd the sun-beam to control,
And melts off half her nose!"-pp. 5, 6.       For light was hateful to his soul:
Mr. oores Address is entitled "The Liv-    Go on, cried the hellish one, yellow with spite;
Mr. Moores Address  Go on, cried the hellish one, yellow with spleen;
ing Lustres," and appears to us a very fair        Thy toils of the morning, like Ithaca's queen,
imitation of the fantastic verses which that            I'll toil to undo every night.
ingenious person indites when he is merely  The lawyers are met at the Crown and Anchor,
gallant; and, resisting the lures of voluptuous-   And Yamen's visage grows blanker and blanker
ness, is not enough in earnest to be tender. It The lawyers are met at the Anchor and Crown,
begins:-                                        And Yamen's cheek is a russety brown.
Veeshnoo, now thy work proceeds!
"0 why should our dull retrospective addresses            The solicitor reads,'Fall damp as wet blankets on Drury Lane fire?        And, merit of merit!
Away with blue devils, away with distresses,          Red wax and green ferret
And give the gay spirit to sparkling desire!     Are fix'd at the foot of the deeds!"
Let artists decide on the beauties of Drury,                                    pp. 35, 36.
The richest to me is when woman is there;
rhe question of Houses I leave to the jury;     " Drury's Dirge," by Laura Matilda is not
The fairest to me is the house of the fair." —p. 25. of the first quality. The verses, to be sure,




REJECTED ADDRESSES.                                      735
are very smooth, and very nonsensical-as venturously assumed by the describer. After
wad intended: But they are not so good as the roof falls in, there is silence and great con
Swift's celebrated Song by a Person of Qua- sternation:-.ity; ar.d are so exactly in the same mea-    When lo! amid the wreck uprear'd
sure, and on the same plan, that it is impos-   Gradual a moving head appear'd,
sible to avoid making the comparison.  The           And Eagle firemen knew
reader may take these three stanzas as a'Twas Joseph MIugagins, name rerer'd,
sample:-                                            The foreman of their crew.
Loud shouted all in sign of woe,
" Lurid smoke and frank suspicion,'A Muggins to the rescue, ho!'
Hand in hand reluctant dance;                And pour'd the hissing tide:
While the god fulfils his mission,.       Meanwhile the Muggins fought amain,
Chivalry resigns his lance.              And strove and struggl'd all in vain,
For rallying but to fiall again,
" Hark! the engines blandly thunder,        ForHe tottor'd, unk, ad ied!
Fleecy clouds dishevell'd lie;           Did none attempt, before he fell,
And the firemen, mute with wonder,         To succour one they lov'd so well?
On the son of Saturn cry.                Yes, Higginbottom did aspire,
" See the bird of Ammon sailing,             (His fireman's soul was all on fire)
Perches on the engine's peak,              His brother chief to save;
And the Eagrlle fireman hailing,           But ah! his reckless generous ire
Serv'd but to share his grave!
Soothes them with its bickering beak."       Serv d but to share his grave!
Mid blazing beams and scalding streams,
"CA Tale of Drury," by Walter Scott, is,   Thro' fire and smoke he dauntless broke,
upon the whole, adrmirably executed; though    ButWhere Muggins broke efore.
But sulnhury stench and boiling drench,
the introduction is rather tame. The burning    Destroying s       ight, o'erwhelm'd him quite;
is described with the mighty Minstrel's char-        He sunk to rise no more!
acteristic love of localities:-                 Still o'er his head, while Fate he brav'd,
His whizzing water-pipe he wav'd;
"Then London's sons in nightcap woke!' Whitford and Mitford, ply your pumps!
In bedgown woke her dames;'You, Clutterbuck, come stir your stumps,
For shouts were heard'mid fire and smoke,' Why are you in such doleful dumps?
And twice ten hundred voices spoke,'A fireman, and afraid of bumps!' The Playhouse is in flames!'' What are they fear'd on, fools?'od rot'em!
And lo! where Catherine Street extends,     Were the last words of Higginbottom."
A fiery tail its lustre lends                                                pp. 50-52.
To every window pane:
Blushes each spout in Martlet Court,         The rebuilding is recorded in strains as
And Barbican, moth-eaten fort,             chara teristic, and as aptly applied:And Covent Garden kennels sport,               Didst mark, how tod the bus train
A bright ensanguin'd drainidst mark, how toil'd the busy train
Meux's new brewhouse shows the light,          From morn to eve, till Drury Lane
Rowland Hill's chapel, and the height          Leap'd like a roebuck from the plain?
Where patent shot they sell:               Ropes rose and sunk, and rose again,
The Tennis Court, so fair and tall,                And nimble workmen trod.
Partakes the ray with Surgeons' Hall,          To realize hold Wyatt's plan
The ticket porters' house of call,             Rush'd many a howling Irishman,
Old Bedlam, close by London wall,              Loud clatter'd many a porter can,
Wright's shrimp and oyster shop withal,        And many a ragamuffin can,
And Richarcuson's Hotel."-pp. 46, 47.          With trowel and with hod."-pp. 52, 53.
The mustering of the firemen is not less    "The Beautiful Incendiary," by the Honmeritorious:-                                  ourable W. Spencer, is also an imitation of
great merit. The flashy, fashionable, artifi" The summon'd firemen woke at call          cial style of this writer, with his confident
And hied them to their stations all.       and extravagant compliments, can scarcely
Starting from short and broken snoose,     be said to be parodied in such lines as the
Each sought his pond'rous hobnail'd shoes;   followingBut first his worsted hosen plied,
Plush breeches next in crimson dyed,         " Sobriety cease to be sober,
His nether bulk embrac'd;                    Cease labour to dig and to delve!
Then jacket thick, of red or blue,             All hail to this tenth of October,
Whose massy shoulder gave to view                One thousand eight hundred and twelve!
The badge of each respective crew,             Hah! whom do my peepers remark?
In tin or copper traced.'Tis Hebe with Jupiter's jug!
The engines thunder'd thro' the street,        Oh, no!'tis the pride of the Park,
Fire-hook, pipe, bucket, all complete,           Fair Lady Elizabeth Mugg!
And torches glared, and clattering feet        But ah! why awaken the blaze
Along the pavement paced."-p. 48.            Those bright burning-glasses contain,
Whose lens, with concentrated rays,
The procession of the engines, with the            Proved fatal to old Drury Lane! 
badges of their different companies, and the'Twas all accidental, they cry:
horrible names of their leaders, is also admi-       Away with the flimsy humbug!
rable-but we cannot make room for it. The'Twas fir'd by a flash from the eye
account of the death of Muggins and Higgin-          Of Lady Elizabeth Mugg 
bottom, however, must find a place.  These    "Fire and Ale," by M. G. Lewis, is not
are the two principal firemen who suffered on less fortunate; and exhibits not only a faiththis occasion; and the catastrophe is describ- ful copy of the spirited, loose, and flowing
ed with a spirit, not unworthy of the name so versification of that singular author, but a very




736                                 MISCELLANEOUS
just representation of tha. mixture of extrava-    And again:gance and jocularity which has impressed, Thus with the flames that from old Drury rise
most of his writings with the character of a  Its elements primeval sought the skies,
sort of farcical horror.  For example:-        There pendulous to wait the happy hour,
When new attractions should restore their power
" The fire king one day rather amorous felt;   Here embryo sounds in anther lie conceal'd
HIe mounted his hot copper filly;          Like words in northern atmosphere congeal'd.
His breeches and boots were of tin; and the belt   Here many an embryo laugh, and half encore,
Was made of cast iron, for fear it should melt  Clings to the roof, or creeps along the floor.
With the heat of the copper colt's belly.  By puffs concipient some in aether flit,
Sure never was skin half so scalding as his!    And soar in bravos from the thund'ring pit
When an infant,'twas equally horrid,      While spme this mortal life abortive miss,
For the water when he was baptiz'd gave a fizz,   Crush'd by a groan or murder'd by a hiss." —p. 87,
And bubbl'd and simmer'd and started off, whizz!
As soon as it sprinkl'd his forehead.         "The Theatre," by the Rev. G. Crabbe,
Oh then there was glitter and fire in each eye,  we rather think is the best piece in the colFor two living coals were the symbols;     lection.  It is an exquisite and most masterly
His teeth were calcin'd, and his tongue was so dry.     s an exquisite and most masterly
It rattled against them as though you should try    imitation, not  only of the peculiar style, but
To play the piano in thimbles."-pp. 68, 69.  of the taste, temper, and manner of descripThe drift of the story is, that this formida-tion of that most oiginal author; and can
ble personage ialls in love with Miss Drury  hardly be said to be in any respect a caricathe elder, who is consumed in his ardent em- ture of that style or manner-except in the
brace! when Mr. Whitbread, in the character excessive profusion of puns and verbal jingles
of the Ale King, fairly bullies him  from  a -hich, though undoubtedly to be ranked
similar attempt on her younger sister, who among his characteristics, are never so. thickhas just come out under his protection. sown in his original works as in this admiraWe ha ve next  Playhouse Musings protection.   by  ble imitation.  It does not aim, of course; at
Mr. Coleridge-a piece which is unquestion- any shadow of his pathos or moral sublimity;
ably Lakish-though we cannot say that we but seems to us to be a singularly faithful
recognise in it any of the peculiar traits of copy of his passages of mere description. 
that powerful and misdirected genius whose begins as follows:name it has borrowed.  We rather think, "'Tis sweet to view from half-past five to six,
however, that the tuneful Brotherhood will Our long wax candles, with short cotton wicks,
consider it as a respectable eclogue.  This is Touch'd by the lamplighter's Promethean art,
the introduction:                              Start into light, and make the lighter start!
To see red Phcebus through the gallery pane
" My pensive Public!- wherefore look you s'  Tinge with his beam the beams of Drury Lane,
I had a grandmother; she kept a donkey         While gradual parties fill our widen'd pit,
To carry to the mart her crockery ware,        And gape, and gaze, and wonder, ere they sit.
And when that donkey look'd me in the face,      "At first, while vacant seats give choice and ease,
His face was sad! and you are sad, my Public!   Distant or near, they settle where they please;
Joy should be yours: this tenth day of October  But when the multitude contracts the span,
Again assembles us in Drury Lane.              And seats are rare, they settle where they can.
Long wept my eye to see the timber planks        " Now the full benches, to late comers, doom
That hid our ruins: many a day I cried         No room for standing, miscall'd standing room.
Ah me! I fear they never will rebuild it!      " Hark! the check-taker moody silence breaks,
Till on one eve, one joyful Monday eve,        And bawling'Pit full,' gives the check he takes."
As along Charles Street I prepar'd to walk,                                     pp. 116, 117.
Just at the corner, by the pastry cook's,
I heard a trowel tick against a brick!          The tuning of the orchestra is given with
I look'd me up, and strait a parapet           the same spirit and fidelity; but we rather
Uprose, at least seven inches o'er the planks.  choose to insert the following descent of a
Joy to thee, Drury! to myself I said,         playbill from the upper boxes:He of Blackfriars Road who hymn'd thy downfal
In loud Hosannahs, and who prophesied          "Perchance, while pit and gallery cry,' hats off,'
That flames like those from prostrate Solyma   And aw'd consumption checks his chided cough,
Would scorch the hand thatventur'd to rebuild thee, Some giggling daughter of the queen of love
Has prov'd a lying prophet. From that hour,    Drops, reft of pin, her play-bill from above;
As leisure offer'd, close to Mr. Spring's      Like Icarus, while laughing galleries clap,
Box-office door., I've stood and eyed the builders."  Soars, ducks, and dives in air, the printed scrap:
pp. 73, 74.   But, wiser far than he, combustion fears,
Of CC"Architectural Atoms," translated by  And, as it flies, eludes the chandeliers;
Till sinking gradual, with repeated twirl,
Dr. Busby, we can say very little more than  It settles, curling, on afiddler'sd twrl
that they appear to us to be far more capable  Who from his powder'd pate the intruder strikes,
of combining into good poetry than the few  And, for mere malice, sticks it on the spikes."
lines we were able to read of the learned                                            p. 118.
Doctor's genuine address in the newspapers.
They might pass, indeed, for a very tolerable    The quaintness and minuteness of the fol.
They might pass, indeed, for insta very tolerable lowing catalogue, are also in the very spirit
of the-original author-bating always the un"I sing how casual bricks, in airy climb       dae allowance of puns and concetti to which
Encounter'd casual horse hair, casual lime;    we have already alluded
How rafters borne through wond'ting clouds elate,
Kiss'd in their slope blue elemental slate!   " What various swains our motley walls contain!
Clasp'd solid beams, in chance-directed fury,  Fashion from Moorfields, honour from Chick Lane;
A"i- gave to birth our renovated Drury."       Bankers from Paper Buildings here resort,
pp. 82, 83.   Bankrupts from Golden Square and Riches Court;




MADAME DE STAEL.                     7?
The lottery cormorant, the auction shark,       " That which was organised by the moral ability
The full-price master, and the half-price clerk;    of one, has heen executed by the physical effort of
Boys who long linger at the gallery door,     many; and DRURY LANE THEATRE is now corn
With pence twice five,-they want but twopence plete. Of that part behind the curtain, which has
Till some Samaritan the twopence spares, [more, not yet been destined to glow beneath the brush of
And sends them jumping up the gallery stairs.    the varnisher, or vibrate to the hammer of the carCritics we boast who ne'er their malice baulk,  penter, little is thought by the public, and little
But talk their minds,-we wish they'd mind their need be said by the committee. Truth, however,
Big-worded bullies, who by quarrels live,  [talk! is not to be sacrificed for the accommodation of
Who give the lie, and tell the lie they give;  either; and he who should pronounce that our ediAnd bucks with pockets empty as their pate,  fice has received its final embellishment, would be
Lax in their gaiters, laxer in their gait."   disseminating falsehood without incurring favour,
pp. 118, 119.   and risking the disgrace of detection without particiWe shall concude with the episode on the paling the advantage of success.
We shall conclude with the episode on the   "Let it not, however, be conjectured, that beloss and recovery of Pat Jennings' hat-which, cause we are unassuming, we are imbecile; that
if Mr. Crabbe had thought at all of describing, forbearance is any indication of despondency, or
we are persuaded he would have described humility of demerit. He that is the most assured
erecisely as follows:-                        of success will make the fewest appeals to favour;
aud where nothing is claimed that is undue, nothing
"Pat Jennings in the upper gallery sat,    that is due will be withheld. A swelling opening
But, leaning forward, Jennings lost his hat;  is too often succeeded by an insignificant concluDown from the gallery the beaver flew,        sion. Parturient mountains have ere now produced
And spurn'd the one to settle in the two.     muscipular abortions; and the auditor who comHow shall he act? Pay at the gallery door    pares incipient grandeur with final vulgarity, is reTwo shillings for what cost when new but four?   minded of the pious hawkers of Constantinople,
Now, while his fears anticipate a thief,      who solemnly perambulate her streets, exclaiming,
John Mullins whispers, take my handkerchief.'In the name of the prophet-figs! "-pp. 54, 55.
Thank you, cries Pat, but one won't make a line;
Take mine, cried Wilson, and cried Stokes take   It ends with a solemn eulogium  on Mr.
A motley cable soon Pat Jennings ties,    [mine. Whitbread, which is thus wound up:
Where Spitalfields with real India vies;
Like Iris' bow, down darts the painted hue      " To his never-slumbering talents you are inStarr'd, strip'd, and spotted, yellow, red, and blue. debted for whatever pleasure this haunt of the
Old calico, torn silk, and muslin new.        Muses is calculated to afford. If, in defiance of
George Greene below, with palpitating hand,   chaotic malevolence, the destroyer of the temple
Loops the last kerchief to the beaver's band:  of Diana yet survives in the name of Herostratus,
Upsoars the prize; the youth with joy unfeign'd,  surely we may confidently predict, that the rebuilder
Regain'd the felt, and felt what he regain'd;  of the temple of Apollo will stand recorded to disWhile to the applauding galleries grateful Pat  tant posterity, in that of-SAMUEL WHITBREAD."
Made a low bow, and touch'd the ransom'd hat."                                 pp. 59, 60.
The Ghost of Samuel Johnson is not very    Our readers will now have a pretty good
good as a whole: though some passages are idea of the contents of this amusing little
singularly happy. The measure and solemnity volume. We have no conjectures to offer as
of his sentences, in all the limited variety of to its anonymous author.  He who is such a
their structure, is imitated with skill; —but master of disguises, may easily be supposed
the diction is caricatured in a vulgar and un- to have been successful in concealing himpleasing degree.  To make Johnson call a self;-and with the power of assuming so
door " a ligneous barricado," and its knocker many styles, is not likely to be detected by
and bell its " frappant and tintinabulant ap- his own. We should guess, however, that he
pendages," is neither just nor humorous; had not written a great deal in his own charand we are surprised that a writer who has acter-that his natural style was neither very
given such extraordinary proofs of his talent lofty nor very grave-and that he rather in.
for finer ridicule and fairer imitation, should dulges a partiality for puns and verbal plea.
have stooped to a vein of pleasantry so low, and santries.  We marvel why he has shut out
so long ago exhausted; especially as, in other Campbell and Rogers from his theatre of livpassages of the same piece, he has shown ing poets;-and confidently expect to have
how well qualified he was both to catch and our curiosity in this and in all other particuto render the true characteristics of his original. lars very speedily gratified, when the apThe beginning, for example, we think excel- plause of the country shall induce him to take
lent  -                                       off his mask.
(Deemnber, 128s.)
TEuvres Inidites de Madame la Baronne de Stael, publiies par son. Fils; prec&d'es d'une Notices
sur le Caracte're et les Ecrzts de M. de Stadl.  Par Madame NECKrR SAvTSSURE. Trois tomes
8vo. London, Treuttel and Wurtz: 1820.
WE are very much indebted to Madame It is, to be sure, rather in the nature of a Pane.
Necker Saussure for this copious, elegant, and gyric than of an impartial biography-and,.
affectionate account of her friend and cousin. with the sagacity, morality, and skill in con/
47




738                             MISCELLANEOUS.
position which seem to be endemic in the here as in other instances; and rather think
society of Geneva, has also perhaps somne- the worthy financier must be contented to be
thing of the formality, mannerism, and di- known to posterity chiefly as the father of
dactic ambition of that very intellectual so- Madame de Stail.
ciety. For a personal memoir of one so much   But however that may be, the education of
distinguished in society, it is not sufficiently their only child does not seem to have been
individual or familiar-and a great deal too gone about very prudently, by these sage
little feminine, for a woman's account of a personages; and if Mad. de Stail had not
woman, who never forgot her sex, or allowed been a very extraordinary creature, both as
it to be forgotten. The only things that indi- to talent and temper, from the very beginning,
cate a female author in the work before us, she could scarcely have escaped being pretty
are the decorous purity of her morality-the well spoiled between them. Her mother had
feebleness of her political speculations-and a notion, that the best thing that could be
her never telling the age of her friend.  done for a child was to cram it with all kinds
The world probably knows as much already of knowledge, without caring very much whe.
of M. and Madame Necker as it will care ther it understood or digested any part of it;
ever to know: Yet we are by no means of -and so the poor little girl was overtasked
opinion that too much is said of them here. and overeducated, in a very pitiless way, for
They were both very good people-neither several years; till her health became seriof the most perfect bon ton, nor of the very ously impaired, and they were obliged to let
highest rank of understanding,-but far above her run idle in the woods for some years
the vulgar level certainly, in relation to either. longer-where she composed pastorals and
The likenesses of them with which we are tragedies, and became exceedingly romantic.
here presented are undoubtedly very favour- She was then taken up again; and set to her
able, and even flattering; but still, we have studies with greater moderation.  All this
no doubt that they are likenesses, and even time, too, her father was counteracting the
very cleverly executed. We hear a great deal lessons of patient application inculcated by
about the strong understanding and lofty prin- her mother, by the half-playful disputations
ciples of Madame Necker, and of the air of in which he loved to engage her, and the dispurity that reigned in her physiognomy: But play which he could not resist making of her
we are candidly told also, that, with her tall lively talents in society. Fortunately, this
and stiff figure, and formal manners, " il y last species of training fell most in with her
avoit de la gene en elle, et aupres d'elle;" disposition; and she escaped being solemn
and are also permitted to learn. that after and pedantic, at some little risk of becoming
having acquired various branches of know- forward and petulant. Still more fortunately,
ledge by profound study, she unluckily be- the strength of her understanding was such,came persuaded that all virtues and accom- as to exempt her almost entirely from this
plishments might be learned in the same smaller disadvantage.
manner; and accordingly set herself, with   Nothing, however, could exempt her from
might and main, " to study the arts of conver- the danger and disadvantage of being a youthsation and of housekeeping-together with ful Prodigy; and there never perhaps was an
the characters of individuals, and the manage- instance of one so early celebrated, whose
ment of society-to reduce all these things celebrity went on increasing to the last period
to system, and to deduce from this system  of her existence. We have a very lively picprecise rules for the regulation of her con- ture of her, at eleven years of age, in the
duct.' Of M. Necker, again, it is recorded, work before us; where she is represented as
in very emphatic and affectionate terms,. then a stout brown girl, with fine eyes, and
that he was extraordinarily eloquent and ob- an open and affectionate manner, full of eager
serving, and equally full of benevolence and curiosity, kindness, and vivacity. In the drawpractical wisdom: But it is candidly admit- ing-room, she took her place on a little stool
ted that his eloquence was more sonorous beside her mother's chair, where she was
than substantial, and consisted rather of well- forced to sit very upright, and to look as derounded periods than impressive thoughts; mure as possible: But by and by, two or
that he was reserved and silent in general three wise-looking oldish gentlemen, with
society, took pleasure in thwarting his wife round wigs, came up to her, and entered into
in the education of their daughter, and actu- animated and sensible conversation with her,
ally treated the studious propensity of his as with a wit of full age; and those were
ingenious consort with so little respect, as to Raynal, Marmontel, Thomas, and Grimm. At
prohibit her from devoting any time to com- table she listened with delighted attention to
position, and even from  having a table to all that fell from those distinguished guests;
write at!-for no better reason than that he and learned incredibly soon to discuss all submight not be annoyed with the fear of dis- jects with them, without embarrassment or
turbing her when he came into her apart- affectation. Her biographer says, indeed. that
ment! He was a great joker, too, in an inno- she was "always young, and never a child;"
cent paternal way, in his own family; but we but it does seem to us a trait of mere childcannot find that his witticisms ever had much ishness, though here cited as a proof of her
success in other places. The worship of M. filial devotion, that, in order to insure for her
Necker, in short. is a part of the established parents the gratification of Mr. Gibbon's soreligion, we perceive, at Geneva; but we ciety, she proposed, about the same time, that
suspect that the Priest has made the God, she should marry him! and combated, witb




MADAME DE STAEL.                                73g
geat earnestness, all the objections that were tageously contrasted with Rousseau; who,
stated to this extraordinary union.      with the same warmth of imagination, and
Her temper appears from the very first to still greater professions of philanthropy in his
have been delightful. and her heart full of writings, uniformly indicated in his individual
generosity and kindness. Her love for her character the most irritable2 suspicious, and
father rose almost to idolatry; and though her selfish dispositions; and plainly showed that
taste for talk and distinction carried her at his affection for mankind was entirely theolast a good deal away from him, this earliest retical, and had no living objects in this world.
passion seems never to have been superseded,   Madame de Stanl's devotion to her father
or even interrupted, by any other. Up to the is sufficiently proved by her writings;-but
age of twenty, she employed herself chiefly it meets us under a new aspect in the Memoir
with poems and plays; —but took after that to now before us. The only injuries which she
prose. We do not mean here to say any thing could not forgive were those offered to him.
of her different works, the history and ana- She could not bear to think that he was ever
lysis of which occupies two-thirds of the No- to grow old; and, being herself blinded to his
tice before us. Her fertility of thought. and progressive decay by her love and sanguine
warmth of character appeared first in her temper, she resented, almost with fury, every
Letters on Rousseau; but her own character is insinuation or casual' hint as to his age or debest portrayed in Delphine-Corinne showing clining health. After his death, this passion
rather what she would have chosen to be. took another turn. Every old man now reDuring her sufferings from the Revolution, she called the image of her father! and she
wrote her works on Literature and the Pas- watched over the comforts of all such persions. and her more ambitious book on Ger- sons, and wept over their sufferings, with a
many. After that, with more subdued feel- painful intenseness of sympathy. The same
ings-more confirmed principles-and more deep feeling mingled with her devotions, and
practical wisdom, she gave to the world her even tinged her strong intellect with a shade
admirable Considerations on the French Revo- of superstition. She believed that her soul
lution; having, for many years, addicted her- communicated with his in prayer; and that it
self almost exclusively to politics, under the was to his intercession that she owed all the
conviction which, in the present condition of good that afterwards befell her. Whenever
the world, can scarcely be considered as erro- she met with any piece of good fortune she
neous, that under "politics were comprehend- used to say, " It is my father that has obtained morality, religion, and literature."  ed this for me!"
She was, from a very early period, a lover  In her happier days, this ruling passion took
of cities, of distinction, and of brilliant and occasionally a more whimsical aspect: and
varied discussion-cared little in general for expressed itself with a vivacity of which we
the beauties of nature or art-and languished have no idea in this phlegmatic country, and
and pined, in spite of herself, when confined which more resembles the childish irritability
to a narrow society.  These are common of Voltaire, than the lofty enthusiasm of the
enough traits in famous authors, and people person actually concerned. We give, as a
of fashion and notoriety of all other descrip- specimen, the following anecdote from  the
tions: But they were united in her with a work before us. Madame Saussure had come to
warmth of affection, a temperament of enthu- Coppet from Geneva in M. Necker's carriage;
siasm, and a sweetness of temper, with which and had been overturned in the way, but with- we do not know that they were ever combined out receiving any injury. On mentioning the
in any other individual. So far from resem- accident to Madame de Stail on her arrival,
bling the poor, jaded, artificial creatures who she asked with great vehemence who had
live upon stimulants, and are with difficulty driven; and on being told that it was Richel,
kept alive by the constant excitements of her father's ordinary coachman, she exclaimnovelty, flattery, and emulation, her great ed in an agony, "My God, he may one day
characteristic was an excessive movement of overturn my father!" and rung instantly with
the soul-a heart overcharged with sensibility, violence for his appearance. While he was
a frame ove/-informed with spirit and vitality. coming, she paced about the room in the
All her affections, says Madame Necker, —her greatest possible agitation, crying out, at every
friendship, her filial, her maternal attachment, turn  "My father, my poor father! he might
partook of the nature of Love —were accom- have been overturned!"-and turning to her
panied by its emotion, almost its passion- friend, "At your age, and with your slight
and very frequently by the violent agitations person, the danger is nothing-but with his
which belong to its fears and anxieties. With age and bulk! I cannot bear to think of it."
ail this animation, however, and with a good The coachman now came in; and this lady,
deal of vanity-a vanity which delighted in so mild and indulgent and reasonable with all
recounting her successes in society, and made her attendants, turned to him in a sort of
her speak without reserve of her own great frenzy and with a voice of solemnity, but
talents, influence, and celebrity —she seems choked with emotion, said, "!Richel, do you
to have had no particle of envy or malice in know that I am a woman of genius?"-The
her composition. She was not in the least poor man stood in astonishment-and she
degree vindictive, jealous, or scornful; but went on, louder, "Have you not heard, I say
uniformly kind, indulgent, compassionate, and that I am a woman of genius?" Coachy was
forgiving-or rather forgetful of injuries. In still mute. " Well then! I tell you that Iam
these respects she is very justly and advan- a woman of genius-of great genius-of tro



W,~ s                            MISCELLANEOUS.
digious genius! —and I tell you more-that escape the seductions of a more sublime su.
all the genius I have shall be exerted to se- perstition. In theology, as well as in ever)
cure your rotting out your days in a dungeon, thing else, however. she was less dogmatic
if ever you overturn my father [" Even after than persuasive; and, while speaking from
the fit was over, she could not be made to the inward conviction of her own heart, poured
laugh at her extravagance; but was near be- out its whole warmth, as well as its convic.
ginning again-and said " And what had I to tions, into those of others; and never seemed
conjure with but my poor genius 2"        to feel any thing for the errors of her comHer insensibility to natural beauty is rather panions but a generous compassion, and an
unaccountable, in a mind constituted like hers, affectionate desire for their removal. She
and in a native of Switzerland. But, though rather testified in favour of religion, in short,
born in the midst of the most magnificent than reasoned systematically in its support;
scenery, she seems to have thought, like Dr. and, in the present condition of the world,
Johnson, that there was no scene equal to the this was perhaps the best service that could
high tide of human existence in the heart of be rendered. Placed in many respects in the
a populous city. "Give me the Rue de Bae  ) most elevated condition to which humanity
said she, when her guests were in ecstasies could aspire —possessed unquestionably of the
with the Lake of Geneva and its enchanted highest powers of reasoning-emancipated, in
shores-" I would prefer living in Paris, in a a singular degree, from prejudices, and enterfourth story, with an hundred Louis a year." ing with the keenest relish into all the feelings
These were her habitual sentiments; —But that seemed to suffice for the happiness and
she is said to have had one glimpse of the occupation of philosophers, patriots, and lovers
glories of the universe, when she went first -she has still testified, that without religion
to Italy, after her father's death, and was en- there is nothing stable, sublime, or satisfying 
gaged with Corinne. And in that work, it is and that it alone completes and consummates
certainly true that the indications of a deep all to which reason or affection can aspire.and sincere sympathy with nature are far A genius like hers, and so directed, is, as her
more conspicuous than in any of her other biographer has well remarked, the only Miswritings.  For this enjoyment and late-de- sionary that can work any permanent effect on
veloped sensibility, she always said she was the upper classes of society in modern times;indebted to her father's intercession.    upon the vain, the learned, the scornful, and arThe world is pretty generally aware of the gumentative,-they " who stone the Prophets
brilliancy of her conversation in mixed com- while they affect to offer incense to the Muses."
pany; but we were not aware that it was   Both her marriages have been censured;generally of so polemic a character, or that the first, as a violation of her principles-the
she herself was so very zealous a disputant, second, of dignity and decorum. In that with
such a determined intellectual gladiator as M. de Stahl, she was probably merely passive.
her cousin here represents her. Her great It was respectable, and not absolutely undelight, it is said, was in eager and even vio- happy; but unquestionably not such as suited
lent contention; and her drawing-room at her. Of that with M. Rocca, it will not perCoppet is compared to the Hall of Odin, where haps be so easy to make the apology. We
the bravest warriors were invited every day have no objection to a love-match at fifty:to enjoy the tumult of the fight, and, after But where the age and the rank and fortune
having cut each other in pieces, revived to are all on the lady's side, and the bridegroom
renew the combat in the morning. In this seems to have little other recommendation
trait, also, she seems to have resembled our than a handsome person, and a great deal of
Johnson, —though, according to all accounts, admiration, it is difficult to escape ridicule,she was rather more courteous to her oppo- or something more severe than ridicule. Mad.
nents. These fierce controversies embraced N. S. seems to us to give a very candid and
all sorts of subjects — politics, morals, litera- interesting account of it; and undoubtedly
ture, casuistry, metaphysics, and history. In goes far to take off what is most revolting on
the early part of her life, they turned oftener the first view, by letting us know that it origiupon themes of pathos and passion-love and nated in a romantic attachment on the part
death, and heroical devotion; but she was of M. Rocca; and that he was an ardent suitor
cured of this lofty vein by the affectations of to her, before the idea of loving him had enher imitators. " I tramp in the mire with tered into her imagination. The broken state
wooden shoes," she said, "whenever they of his health, too-the short period she surwould force me to go with them  among the vived their union-and the rapidity with which
clouds."  In the same way, though suffici- he followed her to the grave-all tend not only
ently given to indulge, and to talk of her to extinguish any tendency to ridicule, but to
emotions, she was easily disgusted by the disarm all severity of censure; and lead us
parade of sensibility which is sometimes made rather to dwell on the story as a part only of the
by persons of real feeling; observing, with tragical close of a life full of lofty emotions.
admirable force and simplicity,  "Que tous   Like most other energetic spirits, she desles sentiments naturels out leur pudeur."  pised and neglected too much the accommodaShe had at all times a deep sense of religion. tion of her body-cared little about exercise.
Educated in the strict principles of Calvinism, and gave herself no great trouble about health.
she was never seduced into any admiration With the sanguine spirit which belonged to
of the splendid apparatus and high pretensions her character, she affected to triumph over
*f Popery; although she did not altogether infirmity; and used to say —I might have




MADAME DE STAVL.                                    74
been sickly, like any body else, had I not re- other trammels, those which had circumscrib.
solved to vanquish all physical weaknesses." ed the liberty of thinking in that great coun.
But Nature would not be defied!-and she try. The genius of Madame de Stahil co-ope.
died, while contemplating still greater under- rated, no doubt, with the spirit of the times
takings than any she had achieved. On her and assisted its effects-but it was also acted
sick-bed, none of her great or good qualities upon, and in part created, by that spirit-and
abandoned her. To the last she was kind, her works are rather, perhaps, to be consider.
patient, devout, and intellectual. Among other ed as the first fruits of a new order of things,
things, she said —" Jai toujours 6t6 la mdme that had already struck root in Europe, than
-vive et triste. —J'ai aim  Dieu, mon pere, as the harbinger of changes that still remain
et la liberte!"  She left life with regret-but to be effected.*
felt no weak terrors at the approach of death   In looking back to what she has said, with
-and died at last in the utmost composure so much emphasis, of the injustice she had to
and tranquillity.                           suffer from Napoleon, it is impossible nct to
We would rather not make any summary be struck with the aggravation which that inat present of the true character and probable justice is made to receive from the quality
effects of her writings. But we must say, of the victim, and the degree in which those
we are not quite satisfied with that of her sufferings are exaggerated, because they were
biographer. It is too flattering, and too elo- her own. We think the hostility of that great
quet and ingenious. She is quite right in commander towards a person of her sex, charextolling the great fertility of thought which acter, and talents, was in the highest degree
characterises the writings of her friends;-  paltry, and unworthy even of a high-minded
and. with relation to some of these writings, tyrant. But we really cannot say that it seems
she is not perhaps very far wrong in saying to have had any thing very savage or ferocious
that, if you take any three pages in. them at in the manner of it. He did not touch, nor
random, the chance is, that you meet with even menace her life, nor her liberty, nor her
more new and striking thoughts than in an fortune. No daggers, nor chains, nor dungeons.
equal space in any other author.  But we nor confiscations, are among the instruments
cannot at all agree with her, when, in a very of torture of this worse than Russian despot.
imposing passage, she endeavours to show'that He banished her, indeed, first from Paris, and
she ought to be considered as the foundress then from France; suppressed her publica
of a new school of literature and philosophy tiQns; separated her from some of her friends:
-or at least as the first who clearly revealed and obstructed her passage into England -
to the world that a new and a grander era was very vexatious treatment certainly,-but not
now opening to their gaze.                  quite of the sort which we should have guessed
In so far as regards France, and those coun- at, from the tone either of her complaints or
tries which derive their literature from her lamentations. Her main grief undoubtedly
fountains, there may be some foundation for was the loss of the society and brilliant talk
this.remark; but we cannot admit it as at all of Paris; and if that had been spared to her,
applicable to the other parts of Europe; which we cannot help thinking that she would have
have always drawn their wisdom, wit, and felt less horror and detestation at the inroads
fancy, from native sources. The truth is, that of Bonaparte on the liberty and independence
previous to her Revolution, there was no civil- of mankind.  She avows this indeed pretty
ised country where there had been so little honestly, where she says, that, if she had been
originality for fifty years as in France.  In aware of the privations of this sort which a
literature, their standards had been fixed certain liberal' speech of M. Constant was
nearly a century before: and to alter, or even ultimately to bring upon herself she would
to advance them, was reckoned equally im- have taken care that it should not have been
pious and impossible. In politics, they were spoken! The truth is, that, like many other
restrained. by the state of their government, celebrated persons of her country, she could
from any free or bold speculations; and in not live happily without the excitements and
metaphysics, and all the branches of the novelties that Paris alone could supply; and
higher philosophy that depend on it, they had that, when these were withdrawn, all the vidone nothing since the days of Pascal and vacity of her genius, and all the warmth of
Descartes.  In England, however, and in her heart, proved insufficient to protect her
Germany, the national intellect had not been from the benumbing influence of ennui. Here
thus stagnated and subdued-and a great deal are her own confessions on the record:of what startled the Parisians by its novelty,   "J'6tois vulnerable par mon goit pour la soci&t
in the writings of Madame de Stalt pour la socient
in the wvritings of Madame de Stal, had long.Montaigne a dit jadis: Je suis Frangois parT Paris,
been familiar to the thinkers of these two ets'il pensoit ainsi, il y a trois siecles, que seroit.ct
countries. Some of it she confessedly borrowed depuis que l'on a vu reunies tant de personnes
from  those neighbouring sources; and some d'esprit dans une meme ville, et tant de personnes
she undoubtedly invented over again for her- accoutumdes a se servir de cet esprit pour les plaisirs
self. In both departments, however, it would de la conversation?  Le fantome de l'ennui m'a
toujours poursuivie! C'est par la terreur qu'il me
be erroneous, we think, to ascribe the greater
part of this improvement to the talents of this
extraordinary woman. The Revolution had   * A great deal of citation and remark, relating
throw  down, amyong other things, the barriers chiefly to the character and conduct of Bonaparte,
c thrown downe aong otter tringse the barriers  and especially to his persecution of the fair author,
by which literary enterprise had been so long is here omitted-the object of this reprint being
restrained in France —and broken, among solely to illustrate her Personal character.




742                                MISCELLANEOUS.
cause que j'aurois ete capable de plier devant la tion; and thatnothing but a littleperseveranoe
tyrannie —sl'exemple de mon pere, et son sang qui is required to restore the plastic frame of our
coule dans mes veines, ne l'emportoient pas sur nature to its natural appetite and relish for
cette foiblesse." —Vol. iii. p. 8.
the new pleasures and occupations that may
WTe think this rather a curious trait, and not yet await it, beyond the precincts of Paris ot
very easily explained.  We can quite well London. We remember a signal testimony
understand how the feeble and passive spirits to this effect, in one of the later publications,
who have been accustomed to the stir and we think of Volney, the celebrated traveller;
variety of a town life, and have had their in- -who describes, in a very amusing way, the
anity supplied by the superabundant intellect misery he suffered when he first changed the
and gaiety that overflows in these great re- society of Paris for that of Syria and Egypt;
positories, should feel helpless and wretched and thle recurrence of the same misery when
when these extrinsic supports are withdrawn: after years of absence, he was again restored
But why the active and energetic members to the importunate bustle and idle chatter of
of those vast assemblages, who draw  their Paris, from the tranquil taciturnity of his warresources from within, and enliven not only like Mussulmans!-his second access of home
themselves, but the inert mass around them, sickness, when he left Paris for the United
by the' radiation of their genius, should suffer States of America,-and the discomfort he
in a similar way, it certainly is not so easy to experienced, for the fourth time, when, after
comprehend.  In France, however, the people being reconciled to the free and substantial
of the most wit and vivacity seem  to have talk of these stout republicans, he finally;ealways been the most subject to ennui.  The turned to the amiable trifling of his own faletters of Mad. du Deffand, we remember. are mous metropolis.
full of complaints of it; and those of De Bussy   It is an affliction, certainly, to be at the end
also.  It is but a humiliating view of our frail of the works of such a writer-and to think
human nature, if the most exquisite arrange- that she was cut off at a period when her enments for social enjoyment should be found larged experience and matured talents were
thus inevitably to generate a distaste for what likely to be exerted with the greatest utility
is ordinarily within our reach; and the habit and the state of the world was such as to hold
of a little elegant amusement, not coming very out the fairest prospect of their not being exclose either to our hearts or understandings, erted in vain.  It is a consolation, however,
should render all the other parts of life, with that she has done so much; —And her works
its duties, affections, and achievements, dis- will remain not only as a brilliant memorial
tasteful and burdensome.  We are inclined, of her own unrivalled genius, but as a proof
however, we confess, both to question the that sound and comprehensive views were
perfection of the arrangements and the system  entertained, kind affections cultivated, and
of amusement that led to such results; and elegant pursuits followed out. through a period
also to doubt of the permanency of the dis- which posterity may be apt to regard as one
comfort that may arise on its first disturbance. of universal delirium  and crime;-that the
We are persuaded, in short, that at least as principles of genuine freedom, taste, and momuch enjoyment may be obtained, with less rality, were not altogether extinct, even under
of the extreme variety, and less of the over- the reign of terror and violence-and that one
excitement which belongs to the life of Paris,  who lived through the whole of that agitating
and is the immediate cause of the depression scene, was the first luminously to explain, and
that follows their cessation; and also, that, in temperately and powerfully to impress, the
minds of any considerable strength and re- great moral and political Lessons, which it
source, this depression will be of no long dura- should have taught to mankind.
(QOctober, 1835.)
Memoirs of the Life of the Right Honourable Sir James Mackintosh. Edited by his Son,
ROBERT JAMES MACKINTOSHi Esq.  2 vols. 8vo. London: 1835.*
THERE cannot be, we think, a more delight- attraction of the Character it brings so pleasful book than this: whether we consider the ingly before us-or the infinite variety of ori.
* This was my last considerable contribution to that memory. At all events, if it was an improthe Edinburgh lreview; and, indeed, (with the ex- priety, it was one for which I cannot now submit to
ception of a slight notice of Mr. Wilberforce's Me- seek the shelter of concealment: And therefore I
moirs,) the only thing I wrote for it, after my ad- here reprint the greater part of it: and think I canvancement to the place I now hold. If there was not better conclude the present collection, than with
any impropriety in my so contributing at all, some this tribute to the merits of one of the most distinpalliation I hope may be found in the nature of the guished of my Associates in the work out of which
feelings by which I was led to it, and the tenor of it has been gathered.
what these feelings prompted me to say. I wrote   A considerable part of the original is omitted in
it solely out of affection to the memory of the friend this publication; but consisting almost entirel] in
I had lost; and I think I said nothing which was citations from the book reviewed, and incidental re
not dictated-by a desire to vindicate and to honour marks on these citations.




LIFE OF SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH.                           743
gn it thloughts and fine observations with of Diaries and journals-autobiographers wcho,
wKich it abounds. As a mere narrative there without having themselves done any thing
is not so much to be said for it. There are memorable, have yet had the good luck to live
but few incidents; and the account which we through long and interesting periods; and
have of them is neither very luminous nor who, in chronicling the events of their own
very complete. If it be true, therefore, that unimportant lives, have incidentally preservthe only legitimate business of biography is ed invaluable memorials of contemporary
with incidents and narrative, it will not be manners and events. The Memoirs of Eveeasy to deny that there is something amiss, lyn and Pepys are the most obvious instances
either in the title or the substance of this of works which derive their. chief value from
work. But we are humbly of opinion that there this source; and which are read, not for any
is no good ground for so severe a limitation.   great interest we take in the fortunes of the
Biographies, it appears to us, are naturally writers, but for the sake of the anecdotes and
of three kinds-and please or instruct us in at notices of far more important personages and
least as many different ways. One sort seeks transactions with which they so lavishly preto interest us by an account of what the indi- sent us; and there are many others, written
vidual in question actually did or suffered in withfar inferior talent, and where the design
his own person: another by an account of is more palpably egotistical, which are perused
what he saw done or suffered by others; and with an eager curiosity, on the strength of the
a third by an account of what he himself same recommendation.
thought, judged, or imagined —for these too,   The last class is for Philosophers and men
we apprehend, are acts of a rational being-  of Genius and speculation-men, in short, who
and acts frequently quite as memorable, and were, or ought to have been, Authors, and
as fruitful of consequences, as any others he whose biographies are truly to be regarded
can either witness or perform.            either as supplements to the works they have
Different readers will put a different value given to the world, or substitutes for those
on each of these sorts of biography. But at which they might have given. These are
all events they will be in no danger of con- histories, not of men, but of Minds; and their
founding them. The character and position value must of course depend on the reach and
of the individual will generally settle, with capacity of the mind they serve to develope,
sufficient precision, to which class his me- and in the relative magnitude of their contrimoirs should be referred; and no man of com- butions to its history. When the individual
mon sense will expect to meet in one with the has already poured himself out in a long series
kind of interest which properly belongs to of publications, on which all the moods and
another. To complain that the life of a war- aspects of his mind have been engraven (as in
rior is but barren in literary speculations, or the cases of Voltaire or Sir Walter Scott), there
that of a man of letters in surprising personal may be less occasion for such a biographical
adventures, is about as reasonable as it would supplement. But when an author (as in the
be to complain that a song is not a sermon. or case of Gray) has been more chary in his comthat there is but little pathos is a treatise on munications with the public, and it is yet posgeometry.                                 sible to recover the precious, though immaThe first class, in its higher or public de- ture, fruits of his genius or his studies, —
partment, should deal chiefly with the lives of thoughts, and speculations, which no intellileaders in great and momentous transactions gent posterity would willingly let d;, —it is
-men who, by their force of character, or the due both to his fame and to the best interests
advantage of their position. have been enabled of mankind, that they should be preserved,
to leave their mark on the age and country to and reverently presented to after times, in
which they belonged, and to impress more such a posthumous portraiture as it is the buthan one generation with the traces of their siness of biography to supply.
transitory existence. Of this kind'are many   The best and most satisfactory memorials
of the lives in Plutarch; and of this kind, still of this sort are those which are substantially
more eminently, should be the lives of such made up of private letters, journals, or writmen as Mahomet, Alfred, Washington, Napo- ten fragments of any kind, by the party himleon. There is an inferior and more private self; as these, however scanty or imperfect,
department under this head, in which the in- are at all events genuine Relics of the indiviterest, though less elevated, is often quite as dual, and generally bearing, even more auintense, and rests on the same general basis, thentically than his publications, the stamp of
of sympathy with personal feats and endow; his intellectual and personal character. We
ments-we mean the history of individuals cannot refer to better examples than the lives
whom the ardour of their temperament, or the of Gray and of Cowper, as these have been
caprices of fortune, have involved in strange finally completed. Next to these, if not upon
adventures, or conducted through a series of the same level, we should place such admiraextraordinary and complicated perils. The ble records of particular conversations, and
memoirs of Benvenuto Cellini, or Lord Her- memorable sayings gathered from the lips of
bert of Cherbury, are good examples of this the wise, as we find in the inimitable pages
romantic sort of biography; and many more of Boswell,-a work which, by the general
might be added, from the chronicles of an- consent of this generation, has not only made
cient paladins, or the confessions of modern us a thousand times better acquainted with
malefactors.                              Johnson than all his publications put together.
The second class is chiefly for the compilers but has raised the standard of his intellectual




44                             MISCELLANEOUS.
character, and actually made discovery of do by being caught in undress: but all who
large provinces in his understanding, of which are really worth knowing about, will, on the
scarcely an indication was to be found in his whole, be gainers; and we should be well
writings. In the last and lowest place-in so content to have no biographies but of those
far, at least, as relates to the proper business who would profit, as well as their readers, by
of this branch of biography, the enlargement being shown in new or in nearer lights.
of our knowledge of the genius and character   The value of the insight which may thus
of individuals-we must reckon that most be obtained into the mind and the meaning
common form of the memoirs of literary men, of truly great authors, can scarcely be overwhich consists of little more than the biogra- rated by any one who knows how to turn
pher's own (generally most partial) descrip- such communications to account; and we do
tion and estimate of his author's merits, or of not think we exaggerate when we say, that
elucidations and critical summaries of his in many cases more light may be gained from
most remarkable productions. In this divi- the private letters, notes, or recorded talk of
sion, though in other respects of great value, such persons, than from the most finished of
must be ranked those admirable dissertations their publications; and not only upon the
which Mr. Stewart has given to the world un- many new topics which are sure to be started
der the title of the Lives of Reid, Smith, and in such memorials, but as to the true characRobertson, —the real interest of which con- ter, and the merits and defects, of such pubsists almost entirely in the luminous exposi- lications themselves. It is from such sources
tion we there meet with of the leading specu- alone that we can learn with certainty by
lations of those eminent writers, and in the what road the author arrived at the conclucandid and acute investigation of their origi- sions which we see established in his works;
nality or truth.                          against what perplexities he had to struggle,
We know it has been said, that after a man and after what failures he was at last enabled
has himself given to the public all that he to succeed. It is thus only that we are often
thought worthy of its acceptance, it is not fair enabled to detect the prejudice or hostility
for a posthumous biographer to endanger his which may be skilfully and mischievously
reputation by bringing forward what he had disguised in the published book-to find out
withheld as unworthy,-either by exhibiting the doubts ultimately entertained by the authe mere dregs and refuse of his lucubrations, thor himself, of what may appear to most
or by exposing to the general gaze those crude readers to be triumphantly established, —or
conceptions, or rash and careless opinions, to gain glimpses of those grand ulterior specuwhich he may have noted down in the pri- lations, to which what seemed to common
vacy of his study, or thrown out in the confi- eyes a complete and finished system, was, in
dence of private conversation. And no doubt truth, intended by the author to serve only as
there may be (as there have been) cases of a vestibule or introduction.  Where such
such abuse. Confidence is in no case to be documents are in abundance, and the mind
violated; nor are mere trifles, which bear no which has produced them is truly of the highmark of the writer's intellect, to be recorded est order, we do not hesitate to say, that more
to his prejudice. But wherever there is power will generally be found in them, in the way
and native genius, we cannot but grudge the at least of hints to kindred minds, and as
suppression of the least of its revelations; and scattering the seeds of grand and original
are persuaded, that with those who can judge conceptions, than in any finished works which
of such intellects, they will' never lose any the indolence, the modesty, or'the avocations
thing by the most lavish and indiscriminate of such persons will have generally permitted
disclosures. Which of Swift7s most elaborate them to give to the world. So far, therefore,
productions is at this day half so interesting from thinking the biography of men of genius
as that most confidential Journal to Stella? Or barren or unprofitable, because presenting few
which of them, with all its utter carelessness events or personal adventures, we cannot but
of expression, its manifold contradictions, its regard it, when constructed in substance of
infantine fondness, and all its quick-shifting such materials as we have now mentioned
moods, of kindness, selfishness; anger, and as the most instructive and interesting of all
ambition. gives us half so strong an impres- writing-embodying truth and wisdom in the
sion either of his amiableness or his vigour? vivid distinctness of a personal presentment,
How much, in like manner, is Johnson raised -enabling us to look on genius in its first
in our estimation, not only as to intellect but elementary stirrings, and in its weakness as
personal character, by the industrious eaves- well as its strength,-and teaching us at the
droppings of Boswell, setting down, day by same time great moral lessons, both as to the
day, in his note-book, the fragments of his value of labour and industry, and the necesmost loose and unweighed conversations? Or sity of virtues, as well as intellectual endow
what, in fact, is there so precious in the works, ments, for the attainment of lasting excellence.
or the histories, of eminent men, from Cicero   In these general remarks our readers will
to Horace Walpole, as collections of their pri- easily perceive that we mean to shadow forth
vate and familiar letters? What would we our conceptions of the character and peculiar
not give for such a journal-such notes of merits of the work before us. It is the history
conversations, or such letters, of Shakespeare, not of a man of action, but of a student, a
Chaucer, or Spenser? The mere drudges or philosopher, and a statesman; and its value
coxcombs of literature may indeed suffer by consists not in the slight and imperfect acsuac disc!losures-as made-up beauties might count of what was done by, or happened to




LIFE OF SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH.                                745
the mdivikra], but in the vestiges it has lections of all who had most familiar access to
fortunately preserved of the thoughts senti- him in society. It was owing perhaps to this
ments, and opinions of one of the most power- vigour and rapidity of intellectual digestion
ful thinkers, most conscientious inquirers, and that, though all his life a great talker, there
most learned reasoners, that the world has never was a man that talked half so much
ever seen.  It is almost entirely made up of who said so little that was either foolish or
journals and letters of the author himself; frivolous; nor any one perhaps who knew
and impresses us quite as strongly as any of so well how to give as much liveliness and
his publications with a sense of the richness poignancy just and even profound observaof his knowledge and the fineness of his un- tions, as others could ever impart to startling
derstanding-and with a far stronger sense extravagance, and ludicrous exaggeration. The
of his promptitude, versatility, and vigour.*   vast extent of his information, and the natural
His intellectual character, generally, can- gaiety of his temper, made him independent
not be unknown to any one acquainted with  of such devices for producing effect; and)
his works, or who has even read many pages joined to the inherent kindness and gentleof the Memoirs now before us; and it is need- ness of his disposition, made his conversation
less, therefore, to speak here of his great at once the most instructive and the most
knowledge, the singular union of ingenuity generally pleasing that could be imagined.
and soundness in his speculations-his per-   Of his intellectual endowments we shall
fect candour and temper in discussion-the  say no more. But we must add, that the
pure and lofty morality to which he strove to Tenderness of his domestic affections, and
elevate the minds of others, and in his own the deep Humility of his character, were as
conduct to conform, or the wise and humane inadequately known, even among his friends,
allowance which he was ready, in every case till the publication of those private records:
but his own, to make for the infirmities which  For his manners, though gentle, were ccti;
must always draw  down so many from  the and, though uniformly courteous and candid
higher paths of their dutty, it was natural to suppose that he
These merits, we believe, will no longer be was not unconscious of his superiority.  It is
denied by any who have heard of his name, therefore, but justice to bring into view some
or looked at his writings.  But there were of the proofs that are now before us of both
other traits of his intellect which could only these endearing traits of character.  The
be known to those who were of his acquaint- beautiful letter which he addressed to Dr.
ance, and which it is still desirable that the Parr on the death of his first wife, in 1797,
readers of these Memoirs should bear in breathes the full spirit of both. We regret
mind. One of these was, that ready and pro-. that we can only afford room for a part of it.
digious Memory, by which all that he learned
~remed to be at once engraved on the proper "Allow me, in justice to her memory, to tell
compartment of his mind, and to present you what she was, and what I owed her. I was
itselfattmment of it, w asqd;o asnt   guided in my choice only by the blind affection ot
itself at the moment it was required; another  my youth. I found an intelligent companion, and
-;::  alore remarkable, was the singular Ma- a tender friend; a prudent monitress, the most
rurity and completeness of all his views and  faithful of wives, and a mother as tender as children
opinions, even upon the most abstruse and  ever had the misfortune to lose. 1 found a woman
comel icated questions, though raised, without who, by the tender management of my weaknesses,
design or preparation, in the casual course of gradually corrected the most pernicious of them.
She became prudent from affection; and though of
conversation.  In this way it happened that the most generous nature, she was taught economy
the sentiments he delivered had generally  and frugality by her love for me. During the most
the air of recollections-and that few of those critical period of my life, she preserved order in my
wvrith whom he most associated in mature life, affairs, from the care of which she relieved me. She
could recollect of ever catching him  in the gently reclaimed me from dissipation; she propped
act of making up his mind, in the course of my weak and irresolute nature; she urged my inact of making up his mindt in the course of dolence to all the exertions that have been useful
the discussions in which it was his delight to or creditable to me, and she was perpetually at hand
engage them. His conclusions, and the grounds to admonish my heedlessness and improvidence.
of them, seemed always to have been pre- To her I owe whatever I am; to her whatever I
viously considered and digested; and though  shallbe. Such was she whom I have lost! And
I have lost her after eight years of struggle snd dishe assentofhisheareshe uniformly seemed  tress had bound us fast together, and mouiied our
the assent of his hearers, he uniformly seem ed  tempers to each other,-when a knowledge of her
to have been perfectly ready, before the cause  worth had refined my youthful love into friendship,
was called on, to have delivered the opinion  and before age had deprived it of much of its origiof the court, with a full summary of the argu- nal ardour,-I lost her, alas! (the choice of my
ments and evidence on both sides.  In the  youth, and the partner of my misfortunes) at a mowork before us, we have more peeps into the  ment when I had the prospect of her sharing my
work before us, we have more peeps into thebetter days!
preparatory deliberations of his great intellect   " The philosophy which T have learnt only teaches
-that scrupulous estimate of the grounds of me that virtue and friendship are the greatest of
decision, and that jealous questioning of first human blessings, and that their loss is irreparable.
impressions, which necessarily precede the It aggravates my calamity, instead of consoling me
formation of all firm and wise opinions. —than  under it. But my wounded heart seeks another
consolation. Governed by those feelings, which
could probably be collected from  the recol- have in every age and region of the world actuated
the human mind, I seek relief, and I find it, in
* A short account of Sir James' parentage, edu. the soothing hope and consolatory opinion, that a
cation, and personal history is here omitted.  Benevolent Wisdom inflicts the chastisement, as




746                                MISCELLANEOUS.
well as bestows the enjoyments of human life; that   In the same sad but gentle spirit, we have
Superintending Goodness will one day enlighten this entry in 1822:the darkness which surrounds our nature, and hangs
over our prospects; that this dreary and wretched    "Walked a little up the quiet valley, which on
life is not the whole of man; that an animal so this cheerfill morning looked pretty. While sitting
sagacious and provident, and capable of such pro- on the stone under the tree, my mind was soothed
ficlency in science and virtue, is not like the beasts by reading some passages of —  in the Quarterly
that perish; that there is a dwelling-place prepared  Review. With no painful humility I felt that an
for the spirits of the just, and that the ways of God enemy of mine is a man of genius and virtue; and
will yet be vindicated to man."               that all who think slightingly of me may be right."
We may add part of a very kind letter,   But the strongest and most painful expreswritten from India, in 1808, in a more cheer- sion of this profound humility is to be found
ful mood, to his son-in-iaw Mr. Rich, then on in a note to his Dissertation on Ethical Philoa mission to Babylon, —and whose early death  sophy; in which, after a beautiful eulogium
so soon blasted the hopes, not onlyof his afflict- on his deceased friends, Mr. George Wilson
ed family, but of the whole literary world.    and Mr. Serjeant Lens, he adds" And now, my dear Rich, allow me, with the   " The present writer hopes that the good-natured
liberty of warm affection, earnestly to exhort you reader will excuse him for having thus, perhaps
to exert every power of your mind in the duties of unseasonably, bestowed heartfelt commendation
your station. There is something in the serious- on those who were above the pursuit of praise, and
ness, both of business and of science, of which your the remembrance of whose good opinion and goodvivacity is impatient. The brilliant variety of your will helps to support him, under a deep sense of
attainments and accomplishments dowl fear, flatter faults and vices."
you into the conceit that you may'indulge your    The reader now  knows enough of Sir
genius,' and pass your life in amusement; while James' personal character to enter readily
you smile at those who think, and at those who act. James' personal character to  enter readily
But this would be weak and ignoble. The success into the spirit of any extracts we may lay beof your past studies ought to show you how much fore him.  The most valuable of these are
you may yet do, instead of soothing you with the supplied by his letters, journals, and occareflection how much you have done.           sional writings, while enjoying the compara" Habits of seriousness of thought and action are tive leisure of his Indian residence  or the
necessary to the duties, to the importance, and to
the dignity of human life. What is amiable gaiety  complete leisure of his voyage to and from
at twenty-four might run the risk, if it was unac- that country: and, with all due deference to
companied by other things, of being thought frivo. opposite opinions, this is exactly what we
lous and puerile at forty-four. I am so near forty- should have expected.  Sir James Mackinfour, that I can give you pretty exact news of thattd a great relish for
dull country; which yet ought to interest you, as   y  and had not constitutional vigour
you are travelling towards it, and must, I hope, Societ
pass through it.                              (after  his return  from  India) to go through
"I hope you will profit by my errors. I was much Business without exhaustion and fatigue.
once ambitious to have made you a much improved In London and in Parliament, therefore, his
edition of myself. If you had stayed here, I should powerful intellect was at once too much dishave laboured to do so, in spite of your impatience;  e
as it is, I heartily pray that you may make your- trspatces dit and too much oppressed; and the
self something much better.                  traces it has left of its exertions on those
self something much better.
" You came here so early as to have made few  scenes are comparatively few and inadequate.
sacrifices of friendship and society at home. You In conversation, no doubt, much that was decan afford a good many years for making a hand- lightful and instructive was thrown out; and,
some fortune, aud still return home young. You for want of a Boswell, has perished!  But
do not feel the force of that word quite so much as though it may be true that we have thus lost
I could wish: But for the present let me hope that though it may be tre that we have thus lost
the prospect of coming to one who has such an the light and graceful flowers of anecdote and
affection for you as I have, will give your country conversation, we would fain console ourselves
some of the attractions of home. If you can be with the belief that we have secured the more
allured to it by the generous hope of increasing the precious and mature fruits of studies and
enjoyments of my old age, you will soon discover meditations, which can only be pursued to
in it sufficient excellences to love and admire; and advantage, when the cessationly be  pursued to
it will become to you, in the full force of the term,    when the c essa tion of more impora home."                                      tunate calls has "left us leisure to be wise.
With reference to these views, nothing has
We are not sure whether the frequent as-truck us more than the singular   our and
struck us more than the singular vigour and
pirations which we find in his private letters, alertness of his understanding during the dull
after the quiet and repose of an Academical progress of his home voyage.  Shut up in a
situation. ought to be taken as proofs of his 
situation, ought to be taken as proofs of his small cabin, in a tropical climate, in a state
humility, though they aregenerally expressed  of languid health, and subject to every sort
in language bearing that character. But there of anoiance, he nal  a           reads with an inare other indications enough, and of the most dustry which would not disgrace an ardent
unequivocal description-for example, this Academic studying for honours, but plunges
entry in 1818:-eagerly into original speculations, and finishes
" —. has, I think, a distaste for me. I think off some of the most beautiful compositions
the worse of nobody for such a feeling. Indeed I in the language, in a shorter time than would
often feel a distaste for myself; and I am sure I be allowed, for such subjects, to a contractor
should not esteem my own character in another for leading paragraphs to a daily paper.  In
person. It is more likely that I should have dis- less than a fortnight, during this voyage, daily he
respectable or disagreeable qualities, than that  less than a  ortnigh  during this voyage, he
should have an unreasonable antipathy.        seems to have thrown off nearly twenty elabo
Vol. ii. p. 344.   rate characters of eminent authors or states




LIFE OF SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH.                                    74'
men in English story-conceived with a just- both extremes are condemned to perpetual revolu.
ness, and executed with a delicacy. which  tion. Those who select words from that permanent
would seem unattainable without long medi. part of a language, and who arrange them according
tation and   patient revisal.  We cannot now  to its natural order, have discovered the true secret.tationadaeof rendening their writings permanent; and of preventure, however, to present our readers with  serving that rank among the classical writers of
more than a part of one of them; and we take  their country, which men of greater intellectual
out extract from that of Samuel Johnson.        power have failed to attain.. Of these writers, whose
language has not yet been at all superannuated,
"In early youth he had resisted the most severe  Cowley was probably the earliest, as Dryden ald
aests of probity. Neither the extreme poverty nor Addison were assuredly the greatest.
the uncertain income to which the virtue of so many    "The third period may be called the Rhetorical,
Amen of letters has yielded, even in the slightest de- and is distinguished by the prevalence of a school
gree weakened his integrity, or lowered the dignity of writers, of which Johnson was the founder. The
of his independence. His moral principles (if the fundamental character of tkis style is, that it em-?anguage may be allowed) partook of the vigour of ploys undisguised art, where classical writers appear
his understanding. He was conscientious, sincere, only to obey the impulse of a cultivated and adorned
determined; and his pride was no more than a nature, &c.
steady consciousness of superiority in the most valu.   " As the mind of Johnson was robust, but neither
able qualities of human nature.  His friendships nimble nor graceful, so his style, though sometimes
were not only firm, but generous and tender, be- significant, nervous, and even majestic, was void,death a rugged exterior. He wounded none of those of all grace and ease; and being the most unlike
feelings which the habits of his life enabled him to of all styles to the natural effusion of a cultivated
estimate; but he had become too hardened by se- mind, had the least pretensions to the praise of elonious distress not to contract some disregard for quence. During the period, now near a close, in
those minor delicacies which become so keenly sen. which he was a favourite model, a stiff symmetry.ible, in a calm and prosperous fortune. He was a and tedious monotony succeeded to that various
Tory, not without some propensities towards Jacob- music with which the taste of Addison diversified
itism; and a High Churchman, with more attachment his periods, and to that natural imagery which his
to ecclesiastical authority and a splendid worship, beautiful genius seemed with graceful negligence to
than is quite consistent with the spirit of Protestant- scatter over his composition."
ism. On these subjects he neither permitted himself
to doubt, nor tolerated difference of opinion in others.   We stop here to remark, that, though  onBut the vigour of his understanding is no more to curring in the substance of this masterly clas
be estimated by his opinions on subjects where it sification of our writers, we should yet be diswas bound by his prejudices, than the strength of a posed to except to that part of it which
man's body by the efforts of a limb in fetters. His represents the first introduction of soft, graceconversation, which was one of the most powerful ful and idiomatic English as not earlier than
instruments of his extensive influence, was artificial, the period of the Restoration.  In our opinion
dogmatical, sententious, and poignant; adapted, the period
with'the most admirable versatility, to every sub- it is at least as old as Chaucer. The English
ject as it arose, and distinguished by an almost un- Bible is full of it; and it is among the most
paralleled power of serious repartee. He seems to common, as well as the most beautiful, of the
have considered himself as a sort of colloquial mag- many  languages  spoken  by  Shakespeare.
istrate, who inflicted severe punishment from just Laying his verse aside there are in his longer
policy. His course of life led him to treat those
sensibilities, which such severity wounds, as fantas. passages of prose —and in the serious as well
tic and effeminate; and he entered society too late as the humorous parts-in Hamlet, and Bruto acquire those habits of politeness which are a sub- tus, and Shylock, and Henry V., as well as in
stitute for natural delicacy.                   Falstaff. and Touchstone, Rosalind, and Bene" In the progress of English style, three periods dick, a staple of sweet, mellow, and natural
may be easily distinguished. The first period ex. English altogether as free and elegant as that
tended from Sir Thomas More to Lord Clarendon.             
During great part of this period, the style partook  of Addison, and for the most part more vigorof the rudeness and fluctuation of an unformed lan- ous and more richly coloured. The same may
guage, in which use had not yet determined the be said, with some exceptions, of the other
words that were to be English.  Writers had not dramatists of that age.  Sir James is right
yet discovered the combination of words which best perhaps as to the grave and authoritative wrisuits the original structure and immutable constitu- ter  of prose; but few of the wits of Queen
tion of our language. While the terms were En- ters of prose  but few of th e wits of Queen
lish, the arrangement was Latin-the exclusive lan- Anne's time were of that description. We
guage of learning, and that in which every truth in shall only add that part of the sequel which
science, and every model of elegance, was then  contains the author's general account of the
contemplated by youth. For a century and a half, Lives of the Poets.
ineffectual attempts were made to bend our vulgar
tongue to the genius of the language supposed to be    " Whenever understanding alone is sufficient for
superior; and the whole of this period, though not poetical criticism, the decisions of Johnson are
without a capricious mixture of coarse idiom, may generally right. But the beauties of poetry must
be called the Latin, or pedantic age, of our style.   befelt before their causes are investigated. There
"In the second period, which extended from the is a poetical sensibility, which in the progress of the
Restoration to the middle of the eighteenth ceptury, a mind becomes as distinct a power as a musical ear
series of writers appeared, of less genius indeed than  or a picturesque eye. Without a considerable detheir predecessors, but more successful in their expe- gree of this sensibility, it is as vain for a man of the
riments to discover the mode of writing most adapted greatest understanding to speak of the higher beau
to the genius of the language. About the same pe. ties of poetry, as it is for a blind man to speak of
riod that a similar change was effected in France colours. But to cultivate such a talent was wholly
by Pascal, they began to banish from style, learned  foreign from the worldly sagacity and stern shrewd.
as well as vulgar phraseology; and to confine them- ness of Johnson. As in his judgment of life and
selves to the part of the language naturally used in  character, so in his criticism on poetry, he was a
general conversation by well-educated men. That sort of free-thinker. He suspected the refined of
middle region which lies between vulgarity and  affectation; he rejected the enthusiactic as absurd,
pedantry, remains commonly unchanged, while and he took it for granted that the mysterious was




748                                 MISCELLANEOUS.
unintelligible. He came into the world when the lowered in expression, out of condescension to our
school of Dryden and Pope gave the law to English  calmer temper. It is thus that harangues and decpoetry  In that school he had himself learned to lamations, the last proof of bad taste and bad man
be a lofty and vigorous declaimer in harmonious ners in conversation, are avoided, while the fancy
verse; beyond that school his unforced admiration  and the heart find the means of pouring forth all
perhaps scarcely soared; and his highest effort of their stores. To meet this despised part of language
criticism was accordingly the noble panegyric on in a polished dress, and producing all the effects of
Dryden. His criticism owed its popularity as much  wit and eloquence, is a constant source of agreeable
to its defects as to its excellences. It was on a level surprise.  This is increased, when a few bolder
with the majority of readers-persons of good sense and higher words are happily wrought into the texand information, but of no exquisite sensibility; and  ture of this familiar eloquence. To find what seems
to their minds it derived a false appearance of so- so unlike author-craft in a book, raises the pleasing
lidity, from that very narrowness, which excluded  astonishment to its highest degree. I once thought
those grander efforts of imagination to which Aris- of illustrating my notions by numerous examples
totle and Bacon have confined the name of poetry."  from' La Sevigne.' And I must, some day or
The admirable and original delineation, other, do so; though I think it the resource of a
The admirable and original delineation   bungler, who is not enough master of language to
of which this is but a small part, appears to  convey his conceptions into the minds of others.
have been the task of one disturbed and  The style of Madame de Sevigne is evidently copied,
sickly day.  We have in these volumes char- not only by her worshipper, Walpole, but even by
acters of Hume, Swift, Lord Mansfield, Wilkes, CGray; who, notwithstanding the extraordinary mert
Goldsmith, Gray, Franklin, Sheridan, Fletcher its of his matter, has the double stiffness of an illliof Saltoun, Louis XIV., and some others all tator, and of a college recluse."
finished with the same exquisite taste, and    How many debatable points are fairly setconceived in the same vigorous and candid  tled by the following short and vigorous respirit; besides which, it appears from  the marks, in the Journal for 1811: —
Journal, that in the same incredibly short    " Finished George Rose's'Observations on
period of fourteen or fifteen days, he had  Fox's History,' which are tedious and inefficient.
made similar delineations of Lord North, That James was more influenced by a passion for
Paley, George Grenville, C. Townshen'd, Tur  arbitrary power than by Popish bigotry, is an idle
- refinement in Fox: tie liked both Popery and
got, Malesherbes, Young, Thomson, Aiken- tyranny; and I am persuaded he did not himself
side, Lord Bolingbroke, and Lord Oxford; know which he liked best. But I take it to be certhough (we know not from what cause) none  tain that the English people, at the Revolution,
of these last mentioned appear in the present dreaded his love of Popery more than his love of
publication.                                   tyranny. This was in them  Protestant bigotry,
During the same voyage  the perusal ofl  not reason: But the instinct of their bigotry pointed
During the same voyage, the perusal of right.  Popery was then the name for the faction'Madame de Sevigne's Letters engages him  which supported civil and religious tyranny in
(at intervals) for about a fortnight; in the  Europe: To be a Papist was to be a partisan of the
course of which he has noted down in his ambition of Louis XIV."
Journal more just and delicate remarks on her   There is in the Bombay Journal of the same
character, and that of her age, than we think  year, a beautiful essay on Novels, and the
are any where else to be met with.  But we moral effect of fiction in general, the whole
cannot now venture on any extract; and must of which we should like to extract; but it is
confine ourselves to the following admirable  far too long.  It proceeds on the assumption,
remarks on the true tone of polite conversa- that as all fiction must seek to interest by
tion and familiar letters,-suggested by the  representing admired qualities in an exaggesame fascinating collection:-                  rated form, and in striking aspects, it must
" When a woman of feeling, fancy, and accom- tend to raise the standard, and increase the
plishment has learned to converse with ease and  admiration of excellence.  In answer to an
grace, from long intercourse with the most polished  obvious obection he  roceeds
society, and when she writes as she speaks, she
must write letters as they ought to be written; if   " A man who should feel all the various sentishe has acquired just as much habitual correctness ments of morality, in the proportions in which they
as is reconcilable with the air of negligence. A  are inspired by the Iliad, would certainly be far
moment of enthusiasm, a burst of feeling, a flash of from a perfectly good man. But it does not follow
eloquence may be allowed; but the intercourse of that the Iliad did not produce great moral benefit.
society, either in conversation or in letters, allows To determine that point, we must ascertain whether
no more. Though interdicted from the long-con- a man, formed by the Iliad, would be better than
tinued use of elevated language, they are not with- the ordinary man of' the country, at the time ix
out a resource. There is a part of language which which it appeared. It is true that it too much inis disdained by the pedant or the declaimer, and spires an admiration for ferocious courage. That
which both, if they knew its difficulty, would ap- admiration was then prevalent, and every circum
proach with dread; it is formed of the most familiar stance served to strengthen it.  But the Iliad
phrases and turns in daily use by the generality of breathes many other sentiments, less prevalent
men, and is full of energy and vivacity, bearing  less favoured by the state of society, and calculated
upon it the mark of those keen feelings and strong gradually to mitigate the predominant passion. The
passions from which it springs. It is the employ- friendship and sorrow of Achilles for Patroclus, the
ment of such phrases which produces what may be patriotic valour of Hector, the paternal affliction of
called colloquial eloquence. Conversation and let- Priam, would slowly introduce more humane affecters may be thus raised to any degree of animation, tions. If they had not been combined with the ad
without departing from their character. Any thing miration of barbarous courage, they would not have
may be said, if it be spoken in the tone of society. been popular; and consequently they would have
The highest guests are welcome if they come in found no entry into those savage hearts which they
the easy undress of the club; the strongest meta- were destined (I do not say intended) to soften. It
phor appears without violence, if it isfamiliarly ex- is therefore clear, from the very nature of poetry,
pressed; and we the more easily catch the warm. that the poet must inspire somewhat better morale
sat feeling, if we perceive that it is intentionally  than those around him; though, to be effectual and




LIFE OF SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH.                                743
iseful, his morals must not be totally unlike those man of thirty-eight, the son of a shopkeeper, who
of his contemporaries. If the Iliad should, in a long never filled an office, or had the power of obliging
course of ages, have inflamed the ambition and fe- a living creature, and whose grand title to this disrocity of a few individuals, even that evil, great as tinction was the belief of his virtue. How honourit is, will be far from balancing all the generous able to the age and to the House! A country where
sentiments, which, for three thousand years, it has such sentiments prevail is not ripe for destruction."
been pouring into the hearts of youth; and which
it now continues to infuse, aided by the dignity of   Sir James could not but feel, in the narrow
antiquity, and by all the fire and splendour of poetry. circles of Bombay, the great superiority of
Every succeeding generation, as it refines, requires London society; and he has thus recorded
the standard to be proportionably raised.     his sense of it
"Apply these remarks, with the necessary modi-.
fications, to those fictions copied from common life   "In great capitals, men of different provinces,
called Novels, which are not above a century old, professions, and pursuits are brought together in soand of which the multiplication and the importance, ciety, and are obliged to acquire a habit, a matter,
as well literary as moral, are characteristic features and manner mutually perspicuous and agreeable.
of England. There may be persons now alive who Hence they are raised above frivolity, and are direcollect the publication of' Tom Jones,' at least, vested of pedantry. In small societies this habit is
if not of' Clarissa.' Since that time, probably not imposed by necessity; they have lower, but
twelve novels have appeared of the first rank-a more urgent subjects, which are interesting to all,
prodigious number, of such a kind, in any depart- level to all capacities, and require no effobrt or prepament of literature (by the help of Sir Walter Scott ration of mind."
and Miss Edgeworth we may now at least double    He might have added th
the number)-amd the whole class of novels mustHe might have addedat in a great capihave had more influence on the public, than all tal the best of all sorts is to be met with; and
other sorts of books combined. Noihing popular that the adherents even of the most extreme
can be frivolous. Whatever influences multitudes, or fantastic opinions are there so numerous,
must be of proportionable importance. Bacon and and generally so respectably headed, as to
Turgot would have contemplated with inquisitive command a deference and regard that w
admiration this literary revolution."         command a deference and regard that would
scarcely be shown to them  when appearing
And soon after, while admitting that Tom  as insulated individuals; and thus it happens
Jones (for example) is so far from  being a that real toleration, and true modesty, as well
moral book as to be deserving of the severest as their polite simulars, are rarely to be met
reprobation, he adds-                         with out of great cities. This, however, is
" Yet even in this extreme case, I must observe true only of those who mix largely in the
that the same book inspires the greatest abhorrence of general society of such places.  For bigots
the duplicity of Blifil, of the hypocrisy of Thwackum  and exclusives of all sorts, they are hot-beds
and Square; that Jones himself is interesting by and seats of corruption; since; however abhis frankness, spirit, kindness, and fidelity-all vir- surd or revolting their tenets may be, such
tues of the first class. The objection is the same persons are sure to meet enough of their felin its principle with that to the Iliad. The ancient lows to encourage each other. In the provinepic exclusively presents war-the modern novel
love; the one what was most interesting in public ces, a believer in animal magnetism or Gerlife, and the other what is most brilliant in private man metaphysics has few listeners, and no
-and both with an unfortunate disregard of moral encouragement; but in a place like London
restraint."                                  they make a little coterie; who herd together,
The entry under 6th March, 1817, has to exchange flatteries, and take themselves fox
the writer of this article, a melancholy inter- the apostles of a new gospel.
est, even at this distance of time.  It refers   The editor has incorporated with his work
to the motion recently made in the House of some letters addressed to him by friends of
Commons for a new writ, on the death of Mr. his father, containing either anecdotes of his
Horner.  The reflections with which it closes earlier life, or observations on his character
must, we think, be interesting always.        and merits. It was natural for a person whose. age precluded him from speaking on his own
"March 6th.-The only event which now ap-authority of any but recent transactions to
pears interesting to me, is the scene in the House seek for  thi s assistance; and the infsactions, to
of Commons on Monday. Lord Morpeth opened  seek for this assistance; and the information
it in a speech so perfect, that it might have been contributed by Lord Abinger and Mr. Basil
well placed as a passage in the most elegant Eng- Montagu (the former especially) is very interlish writer; it was full of feeling; every topic was esting. The other letters present us with little
skilfully presented, and contained, by a sort of pru- more than the opinion of the writers as to his
dence which is a part of taste, within safe limits; character.  If these should be thought too
he slid over the thinnest ice without cracking it. — laudatory, there is another character which
Canning filled well what would have been the va- laudatory the  re is anoth er character which
cant place of a calm observer of Horner's public has lately fallen under our eye, which cerlife and talents. Manners Sutton's most affecting tainly is not liable to that objection. In the
speech was a tribute of affection from a private friend    Table-Talk 7 of the late Mr. Coleridge, we
become a political enemy; Lord Lascelles, at the find these words:-" I doubt if Mackintosh
head of the country gentleman of England, closing ever heartily appreciated an eminently origithis affecting, improving, and most memorable
scene by declaring,'that if the sense of the House nal man. After all his fluency and brilliant
could have been taken on this occasion, it would erudition, you can rarely carry off any thing
have been unanimous.' I may say without exagge- worth preserving. You might not improperly
ration, that never were so many words uttered with- write upon his forehead,'Warehouse to let i'
_ut the least suspicion of exaggeration; and that   We wish to speak tenderly of a man of genever was so much honour paidin any age or nation nius and we believe of amiable dispositions,
to intrincic claims alone. A Howard introduced,
and an English House of Commons adopted, the who has been so recently removed from  his
propositioln, of thus honouring the memory of a friends and admirers. But so portentous a




750                              MISCELLANEOUS.
misjudgment as this, and coming from such a we shall only say, that nothing could possibl~
quarter, cannot be passed without notice. If set the work before us in so favourable a
Sir James Mackintosh had any talent more point of view, as a comparison between it
conspicuous and indisputable than another, it and the volumes of " Table Talk," to which
was that of appreciating the merits of eminent we have already made reference — unless,
and original men.  His great learning and perhaps, it were the contrast of the two minds
singular soundness of judgment enabled him  which are respectively portrayed in these
to do this truly; while his kindness of na- publications.
ture, his zeal for human happiness, and his  In these memorials of Sir James Mackinperfect freedom  from  prejudice or vanity, tosh, we trace throughout the workings of a
prompted him, above most other men, to do powerful and unclouded intellect, nourished
it heartily. And then, as to his being a person by wholesome learning, raised and instructed
from whose conversation little could be car- by fearless though reverent questionings of
ried away, why the most characteristic and the sages of other times (which is the perremarkable thing about it, was that the whole mitted Necromancy of the wise), exercised:f it might be carried away it was so lucid, by free discussion with the most distinguished
precise, and'brilliantly perspicuous! The joke among the living, and made acquainted with
of the " warehouse to let " is not, we confess, its own strength and weakness not only by
quite level to our capacities. It can scarcely a constant intercourse with other powerful
mean (though that is the most obvious sense) minds, but by mixing, with energy and dethat the head was empty-as that is incon- liberation, in practical business and affairs,
sistent with the rest even of this splenetic and here pouring itself out in a delightful
delineation. If it was intended to insinuate miscellany of elegant criticism, original spethat it was ready for the indiscriminate re- culation, and profound practical suggestions
ception of any thing which any one might on politics, religion, history, and all the greater
choose to put into it, there could not be a more and the lesser duties, the arts and the elegross misconception; as we have no doubt gances of life —all expressed with a beautiful
Mr. Coleridge must often have sufficiently clearness and tempered dignity-breathing
experienced.  And by whom  is this dis- the purest spirit of good-will to mankindcovery, that Mackintosh's conversation pre- and brightened not merely by an ardent hope,
sented nothing that could be carried away, but an assured faith in their constant advancethus confidently announced 1 Why, by the ment in freeQom, intelligence, and virtue.
very individual against whose own oracular   On all these points, the "Table Talk " of
and interminable talk the same complaint has his poetical contemporary appears to us to
been made, by friends and by foes, and with present a most mortifying contrast; and to
an unanimity unprecedented, for the last forty render back merely the image of a moody
years. The admiring, or rather idolizing ne- mind. incapable of mastering its own imagin.
phew, who has lately put forth this hopeful ings, and constantly seduced by them, or by
specimen of his relics, has recorded in the a misdirected ambition, to attempt impractipreface, that "his conversation at all times cable things: — naturally attracted by dim
required attention; and that the demand on paradoxes rather than lucid truths, and prethe intellect of the hearer was often very ferring, for the most part, the obscure and ne.
great; and that, when he got into his'huge glected parts of learning to those that are
circuit' and large illustrations, most people useful and clear-marching, in short, at all
had lost him, and naturally enough supposed times, under the exclusive guidance of the
that he had lost himself."  Nay, speaking to Pillar of Smoke —and, like the body of its
this very point, of the ease or difficulty of original followers, wandering all his days in
" carrying away " any definite notions from  the desert, without ever coming in sight of
what he said, the partial kinsman is pleased the promised land.
to inform us, that, with-an his familiarity with   Consulting little at any time with any thing
the inspired style of his relative, he himself but his own prejudices and fancies, he seems,
has often gone away, after listening to him  in his latter days, to have withdrawn altofor several delightful hours, with diversmasses gether from the correction of equal minds;
of reasoning in his head, but without being and to have nourished the assurance of his
able to perceive what connection they had own infallibility, by delivering mystical orawith each other. "In such cases," he adds, cles from his cloudy shrine, all day long, to a
"I have mused, sometimes even for days after- small set of disciples, to whom neither queswards, upon the words, till at length, spon- tion nor interruption was allowed. The result
taneously as it were, the fire would kindle," of this necessarily was, an excaerbation of all
&c. &c. And this is the person who is pleased the morbid tendencies of the mind; a daily
to denounce Sir James Mackintosh as an ordi- increasing ignorance of the course of opinions
nary man; and especially to object to his con- and affairs in the world, and a proportional
versation, that, though brilliant and fluent, confidence in his own dogmas and dreams,
there was rarely any thing in it which could which might have been shaken, at least, if
be carried away!                          not entirely subverted, by a closer contact
An attack so unjust and so arrogant leads with the general mass of intelligence. Unnaturally to comparisons, which it could be fortunately this unhealthful training (pecu.
easy to follow out to the signal discomfiture liarly unhealthful for such a constitution) proof the party attacking.  But without going duced not merely a great eruption of ridicu.
beyond what is thus forced upon our notice, lous blunders and pitiable prejudices, but




LIFE OF SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH.                            75,
seems at last to have brought on a confirmed purpose than to give effect to the enlightened
and thoroughly diseased habit of uncharitable- and deliberate will of the community. To
ness, and misanthropic anticipations of cor- enforce these doctrines his whole life was
ruption and misery throughout the civilised devoted, and though not permitted to comworld. The indiscreet revelations of the work plete either of the great works he had proto which we have alluded have now brought jected, he was enabled to finish detached
to light instances, not only of intemperate portions of each, sufficient not only fully to
abuse of men of the highest intellect and develope his principles, but to give a clear
most unquestioned purity, but such predic- view of the whole design, and to put it in the
tions of evil from what the rest of the world power of any succeeding artist to proceed
has been contented to receive as improve- with the execution. Look now upon the other
ments, and such suggestions of intolerant and side of the parallel.
Tyrannical Remedies, as no man would be-   Mr. Coleridge, too, was an early and mos
lieve could proceed from a cultivated intel- ardent admirer of the French Revolution; bu
lect of the present age-if the early history the fruits of that admiration inz him were, not
of this particular intellect had not indicated a reasoned and statesmanlike apology for
an inherent aptitude for all extreme opinions, some of its faults and excesses, but a resolu-and prepared us for the usual conversion of tion to advance the regeneration of mankind
one extreme into another.                 at a still quicker rate, by setting before their
And it is worth while to mark here also, eyes the pattern of a yet more exquisite form
and in respect merely of consistency and of society!  And accordingly, when a fullultimate authority with mankind, the advan- grown man. he actually gave into, if he did
tage which a sober and well-regulated under- not originate, the scheme of what he and his
standing will always have over one which friends called a Pantisocracy —a form of soclaims to be above ordinances; and trusting ciety in which there was to be neither law
either to an erroneous opinion of its own nor government, neither priest, judge, nor
strength, or even to a true sense of it, gives magistrate —in which all property.was to be
itself up to its first strong impression, and sets in common, and every man left to act upon
at defiance all other reason and authority. his own sense of duty and affection!
Sir James Mackintosh had, in his youth, as   This fact is enough: —And whether he afmuch ambition and as much consciousness of terwards passed through the stages of a Jacopower as Mr. Coleridge could have: But the bin, which he seems to deny-or a hotheaded
utmost extent of his early aberrations (in his Moravian, which he seems to admit, -is really
Vindicive Gallicce) was an over estimate of the of no consequence. The character of his unprobabilities of good from a revolution of derstanding is settled with all reasonable men:
violence; and a much greater under-estimate As well as the authority that is due to the
of the mischiefs with which such experiments anti-reform and anti-toleration maxims which
are sure to be attended, and the value of set- he seems to have spent his latter years in
tied institutions and long familiar forms. Yet, venting. Till we saw this posthumous publithough in his philanthropic enthusiasm he did cation, we had, to be sure, no conception of
miscalculate the relative value of these op- the extent to which these compensating maxposite forces (and speedily admitted and rec- ims were carried; and we now think that few
tified the error), he never for an instant dis- of the Conservatives (who were not originally
puted the existence of both elements in the Pantisocratists) will venture to adopt them.
equation, or affected to throw a doubt upon Not only is the Reform Bill denounced as the
any of the great principles on which civil so- spawn of mere wickedness, injustice, and
ciety reposes. On the contrary, in his.earliest ignorance; and the reformed House of Comas well as his latest writings, he pointed monsas "low, vulgar, meddling, and.Sneering
steadily to the great institutions of Property at every thing noble and refined," but the
and Marriage, and to the necessary authority wise and the good, we are assured, will, in
of Law and Religion, as essential to the being every country, "speedily become disgusted
of a state, and the well-being of any human with the Representative form  of government,
society.  It followed, therefore, that when brutalized as it is by the predominance of dedisappointed in his too sanguine expectations mocracy, in England, France, and Belgium!"2
from the French Revolution, he had nothing And then the remedy is, that they will recur
to retract in the substance and scope of his to a new, though, we confess, not very comopinions; and merely tempering their an- prehensible form, of "'Pzure Monarchy, in
nouncement, with the gravity and caution of which the reason of the people shall become
maturer years, he gave them out again in his efficient in the apparent Will of the King!"
later days to the world, with the accumulated Moreover, he is for a total dissolution of the
authority of a whole life of consistency and union with Ireland, and its erection into a sepastudy. At no period of that life, did he fail rate and independent kingdom. He is against
to assert the right of the people to political Negro emancipation-sees no use in reducing
and religious freedom; and to the protection taxation —and designates Malthus' demonof just and equal laws, enacted by representa- tration of a mere matter of fact by a redundant
tives truly chosen by themselves: And he accumulation of evidence, by the polite and
never uttered a syllable that could be con- appropriate appellation of "a lie;" and repreotrued into an approval, or even an acquies- sents it as more disgraceful and abominable
cence in persecution and intolerance; or in than any thing that the weakness and wick.
tne maintenance of authority for any other edness of man have ever before given birth to




`Y52                           MISCELLANEOUS.
Such as his temperance and candour are in secution. We are sure we treat Mr. Coleridge
politics, they are also in religion; and recom- with all possible respect when we say, that
mended and excused by the same flagrant his name can lend no more plausibility to abcontradiction to his early tenets. Whether he surdities like these, than the far greater names
ever was a proper Moravian or not we care of Bacon or Hobbes could do to the belief in
not to inquire. It is admitted, and even stated sympathetic medicines, or in churchyard apsomewhat boastingly in this book, that he was paritions.
a bold Dissenter from the church. He thanks   We fear we have already transgressed our
heaven, indeed, that he'"had gone much just limits. But before concluding, we wish
farther than the Unitarians'!"  And to make to say a word on a notion which we find pretty
his boldness still more engaging, he had gone generally entertained, that Sir James Mackinthese lengths, not only against the authority tosh did not sufficiently turn to profit the
of our Doctors, but against the clear and ad- talent which was committed to him; and did
mitted doctrine and teaching of the Apostles much less than, with his gifts and opportunithemselves! "' What care I,' I said,'for the ties. he ought to have done.  He himself
Platonisms of John, or the Rabbinisms of Paul? seems, no doubt, to have been occasionall
My conscience revolts?-That was the ground of that opinion; and yet we cannot but think
of my Unitarianism.2  And by and by, this it in a great degree erroneous. If he had not,
infallible and oracular person does not hesitate in early life, conceived the ambitious design
to declare, that others, indeed, may do as they of executing two great'works, —one on the
choose, but he, for his part, can never allow  principles of Morals and Legislation, and one
that Unitarians are Christians! and, giving no on English History; or had not let it be undercredit for " revolting consciences" to any one stood, for many years before his death, that
but himself, charges all Dissenters in the he was actually employed on the latter, we
lump with hating the Church much more do not imagine that, with all the knowledge
than they love religion-is furious against the his friends had (and all the world now has)
repeal of the Test and Corporation Acts, and of his qualifications, any one would have
Catholic Emancipation,-and at last actually, thought of visiting his memory with such a
and in good set terms, denies that any Dis- reproach.
senter has a right to toleration! and, in per-   We know of no code of morality which
fect consistency, maintains that it is the duty makes it imperative on every man of extraof the magistrate to stop heresy and schism  ordinary talent or learning to write a large
by persecution-if he only has reason to think book:-and could readily point to instances
that in this way the evil may be arrested; where such persons have gone with unquesadding, by way of example, that he would be tioned honour to their graves, without leaving
ready " to ship off —any where," any mission- any such memorial-and been judged to have
aries who might attempt to disturb the un- acted up to the last article of their duty,
doubting Lutheranism of certain exemplary merely by enlightening society by their lives
Norwegians, whom he takes under his special and conversation, and discharging with ability
protection.                              and integrity the offices of magistracy or legisWe are tempted to say more. But we de- lation, to which they may have been called.
sist; and shall pursue this parallel no farther. But looking even to the sort of debt which
Perhaps we have already been betrayed into may be thought to have been contracted by
feelings and expressions that may be objected the announcement of these works, we cannot
to. We should be sorry if this could be done but think that the public has received a very
justly. But we do not question Mr. Cole- respectable dividend-and, being at the best
ridge's sincerity. We admit, too, that he was but a gratuitous creditor-ought not now to
a man of much poetical sensibility, and had withhold a thankful discharge and acquittance.
visions of intellectual sublimity, and glimpses The discourse on Ethical Philosophy is fuli
of comprehensive truths, which he could payment, we conceive, of one moiety of the
neither reduce into order nor combine into first engagement,-and we are persuaded will
system. But out of poetry and metaphysics, be so received by all who can judge of its
we think he was nothing; and eminently dis- value; and though the other moiety, which
qualified, not only by the defects, but by the relates to Legislation, has not yet been tenbest parts of his genius, as well as by his dered in form, there is reason to believe that
temper and habits, for forming any sound there are assets in the hands of the executors,
judgment on the business and affairs of our from which this also may soon be liquidated.
actual world. And yet it is for his preposter- That great subject was certainly fully treated
ous judgments on such subjects that his memory of in the Lectures of 1799-and as it appears
is now held in affected reverence by those from some citations in these Memoirs, that,
who laughed at him, all through his life, for though for the most part delivered extempore,
what gave him his only true claim to admira- various notes and manuscripts relating to them
tion! and who now magnify his genius, for no have been preserved, we think it not unlikely
other purpose but to give them an opportunity that, with due diligence, the outline at least
to quote, as of grave authority, his mere deli- and main features of that interesting disquisirations, on reform, dissent, and toleration-his tion may still be recovered. On the bill for
cheering predictions of the approaching mil- History, too, it cannot be denied that a large
lennium of pure monarchy-or his demonstra- payment has been made to account-and as
tions of the absolute harmlessness of taxation, it was only due for the period of the Revoluand the sacred duty of all sorts of efficient per- tion, any shortcoming that may appear upon




LIFE OF SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH.                          751
that score, may be fairly held as compensated in the history of the world for the last two
vy the voluntary advances of value to a much hundred years  above all, what useful lessorm
greater extent, though referring to an earlier could be learned for people or for rulers, from
period.                                  a mere series of? events presented in detail,
But, in truth, there never was any such without any other information as to their
debt or engagement on the part of Sir James: causes or consequences, than might be inAnd the public was, and continues, the only ferred from the sequence in which they apdebtor on the transaction, for whatever it may peared. To us it appears that a mere record
have received of service or instruction at his of the different places of the stars, and their
hand. We have expressed elsewhere our successive changes of position, would be as
estinmate of the greatness of this debt; and of good a system of Astronomy, as such a set of
the value especially of the Histories he has annals would be of History; and that it would
left behind him. We have, to be sure, since be about as reasonable to sneer at Newton
seen some sneering remarks on the dulness and La Place for seeking to supersede the
and uselessness of these works; and an at- honest old star-gazers, by their philosophical
tempt made to hold them up to ridicule, under histories of the heavens, as to speak in the
the appellation of Philosophical histories. We same tone, of what Voltaire and Montesquieu
are not aware that such a name was ever ap- and Mackintosh have attempted to do for our
plied to them by their author or their admirers. lower world. We have named these three,
But if they really deserve it, we are at a loss as having attended more peculiarly, and more
to conceive how it should be taken for a name impartially, than any others, at least in modern
of reproach; and it will scarcely be pretended times, to this highest part of their duty. But,
that their execution is such as to justify its in truth. all eminent historians have attended
application in the way of derision. We do to it —from  the time of Thucydides downnot perceive, indeed, that this is pretended; wards; —the ancients putting the necessary
and, strange as it may appear, the objection explanations more frequently into the shape
seems really to be, rather to the kind of wri- of imaginary orations-and the moderns into
ting in general, than to the defects of its exe- that of remark and dissertation. The very
cution in this particular instance —the objector first, perhaps, of Hume's many excellences
having a singular notion that history should consists in these philosophical summaries of
consist of narrative only; and that nothing the reasons and considerations by which he
can be so tiresome and useless as any addition supposes parties to have been actuated in
of explanation or remark.                great political movements; which are more
We have no longer room to expose, as it completely abstracted from the mere story,
deserves, the strange misconceptions of the and very frequently less careful and complete,
objects and uses of history, which we humbly than the parallel explanations of Sir James
conceive to be implied in such an opinion; Mackintosh. For, with all his unrivalled saand shall therefore content ourselves with gacity, it is true, as Sir James has himself
asking, whether any man really imagines that somewhere remarked, that Hume was too
the modern history of any considerable State, little of an antiquary to be always able to
with its complicated system of foreign rela- estimate the effect of motives in distant ages;
tions, and the play of its domestic parties, and by referring too confidently to the princicould be written in the manner of Herodotus. ples of human nature as developed in our own
— or be made intelligible (much less instruct- times, has often represented our ancestors as
ive) by the naked recital of transactions and more reasonable, and much more argumentaoccurrences? These, in fact, are but the crude tive, than they really were.
materials from which history should be con-   That there may be, and have often been,
structed; the mere alphabet out of which its abuses of this best part of history, is a reason
lessons are afterwards to be spelled. If every only for valuing more highly what is exempt
reader had indeed the talents of an accom- from such abuses; and those who feel most
plished Historian,-that knowledge of human veneration and gratitude for the lights afforded
nature, that large acquaintance with all col- by a truly philosophical historian, will be sure
lateral facts, and that force of understanding to look with most aversion on a counterfeit.
which are implied in such a name-and, at No one, we suppose, will stand up for the inthe same time, that leisure and love for the troduction of ignorant conjecture, shallow dog.
subject which would be necessary for this matism, mawkish morality, or factiousinjustice
particular application of such gifts, the mere into the pages of history-or deny that the
detail of facts, if full and impartial, might be shortest and simplest annals are greatly prefersufficient forhispurposes. Buttoeveryother able to such a perversion. As to political
class of readers, we will venture to say, that partiality, however, it is a great mistake to
one half of such a history would be an in- suppose that it could be in any degree exsoluble enigma; and the other half the source eluded by confining history to a mere chroniof the most gross misconceptions.        cle of facts-the truth being, that it is chiefly
Without some explanation of the views and in the statement of facts that this partiality
motives of the prime agents in great transac- displays itself; and that it is more frequently
tions —of the origin and state of opposite inte- exposed to detection than assisted, by the arrests and opinions in large bodies of the people guments and explanations, which are supposed'
— and of their tendencies respectively to as- to be its best resources. We shall not resume
eendencyor decline-what intelligible account what we have said in another place as to the
could be given of any thing worth knowing merit of the Histories which are now in que48




754                            MISCELLANEOUS.
tion; but we fear not to put this on record, as periods, they would be listened to with impa
our deliberatle, and we think impartial, judg- tience. It is at such times, too, that the inment-that they are the most candid, the telligent part of the lower and middling
most judicious, and the most pregnant with classes look anxiously through such publicathought, and moral and political wisdom, of tions as treat intelligibly of the subjects to
any in which our domestic story has ever yet which their attention is directed; and are thus
been recorded.                          led, while seeking only for reasons to justify
But even if we should discount his Histo- their previous inclinings, to imbibe principles
ries, and his Ethical Dissertation, we should and digest arguments which are impressed on
still be of opinion, that Sir James Mackintosh their understandings for ever, and may fruchad not died indebted to his country for the tify in the end to far more important concluuse he had made of his talents. In the vol- sions. It is, no doubt, true, that in this way,
umes before us, he seems to us to have left the full exposition of the truth will often be
them a rich legacy, and given abundant proofs sacrificed for the sake of its temporary appliof the industry with which he sought to the cation; and it will not unfrequently happen
last to qualify himself for their instruction,-  that, in order to favour that application, the
and the honourable place which his name exposition will not be made with absolute
must ever hold, as the associate and successor fairness. But still the principle is brought
of Romilly in the great and humane work of into view; the criterion of true judgment is
ameliorating our criminal law, might alone laid before the public; and the disputes of
suffice to protect him from the imputation of adverse parties will speedily settle the correct
having done less than was required of him, in or debatable rule of its application.
the course of his unsettled life. But, without   For our own parts we have long been of
dwelling upodf the part he took in Parliament, opinion that a man of powerful understandon these and many other important questions ing and popular talents who should, at such
both of domestic and foreign policy, we must a season, devote himself to the task of anbe permitted to say, that they judge ill of the nouncing such principles, and rendering such
relative value of men's contributions to the discussions familiar, in the way and by the
cause of general improvement, who make means we have mentioned, would probably
small account of the influence which one of do more to direct and accelerate the rectifica.
high reputation for judgment and honesty may tion of public opinion upon all practical ques.
exercise, by his mere presence and conversa- tions, than by any other use he could possibly
tion, in the higher classes of society,-and still make of his faculties. His name, indeed,
more by such occasional publications as he might not go down to a remote posterity in
may find leisure to make, in Journals of wide connection with any work of celebrity; and
circulation, —like this on which the reader is the greater part even of his contemporaries
now looking-we trust with his accustomed might be ignorant of the very existence of
indulgence.                              their benefactor. But the benefits conferred
It is now admitted that the mature and en- would not be the less real; nor the consciouslightened opinion of the public must ultimately ness of conferring them less delightful; nor
rule the country; and we really know no other the gratitude of the judicious less ardent and
way in which this opinion can be so effectu- sincere. So far, then, from  regretting that
ally matured and enlightened. It is not by Sir James Mackintosh did not forego all other
every man studying elaborate treatises and occupations, and devote himself exclusively
systems for himself, that the face of the world to the compilation of the two great works he
is changed, with the change of opinion, and had projected, or from thinking that his counthe progress of conviction in those who must try has been deprived of any services it might
ultimately lead it. It is by the mastery which otherwise have received from him, by the
strong minds have over weak, in the daily in- course which he actually pursued, we firmly
tercourse of society; and by the gradual and believe that by constantly maintaining hualmost imperceptible infusion which such mane and generous opinions, in the most enminds are constantly effecting, of the practical gaging manner and with the greatest possible
results and manageable summaries of their ability, in the highest and most influencing
preceding studies, into the minds immediately circles of society,-by acting as the respected
below them, that this great process is carried adviser of many youths of great promise and
on. The first discovery of a great truth, or ambition, and as the bosom counsellor of many
practical principle, may often require much practical statesmen, as well as by the timely
labour; but when once discovered, it is gene- publication of many admirable papers, in this
rally easy not only to convince others of its and in other Journals, on such branches of
importance, but to enable them to defend and politics, history, or philosophy as the course
maintain it, by plain and irrefragable argu- of events had rendered peculiarly interesting
ments; and this conviction, and this practical or important,-he did far more to enlighten
knowledge, it will generally be most easy to the public mind in his own day, and to insure
communicate, when men's minds are excited its farther improvement in the days that are
to inquiry, by the pursuit of some immediate to follow, than could possibly have been efinterest, to which such general truths may fected by the most successful completion of
appear to be subservient. It is at such times the works he had undertaken.
that important principles are familiarly started   Such great works acquire for their authors
inconversation; and disquisitions eagerly pur- a deserved reputation with the studious few;
sued, in societies, where, in more tranquil and are the treasuries and armories from




LIFE OF SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH.                          755
which the actual and future apostles of the his place as the author of some finished work
truth derive the means of propagating and de- of great interest and importance. If he got
fending it. But, in order to be so effective, over the first illusion, however, and took the
the arms and the treasures must be taken forth view we have done of the real utility of his
from their well-ordered repositories, and dis- exertions, we cannot believe that this would
seminated and applied where they are needed have weighed very heavily on a mind like
and required. It is by the tongue, at last, and Sir James Mackintosh's; and while we cannot by the pen, that multitudes, or the indi- not but regret that his declining years should
viduals composing multitudes, are ever really have been occasionally darkened by these
persuaded or converted,-by conversation and shadows of a self-reproach for which we think
not by harangues-or by such short and oc- there was no real foundation, we trust that he
casional writings as come in aid of conversa- is not to be added to the many instances of
tion, and require little more study or continued men who have embittered their existence by
attention than men capable of conversation a mistaken sense of the obligation of some
are generally willing to bestow. If a man, rash vow made in early life, for the performtherefore, who is capable of writing such a ance of some laborious and perhaps impractibook, is also eminently qualified to dissemi- cable task.
nate and render popular its most important   Cases of this kind we believe to be more
doctrines, by conversation and by such lighter common than is generally imagined. An ampublications, is he to be blamed if, when the bitious young man is dazzled with the notion
times are urgent, he intermits the severer of filling up some blank in the literature of
study, and applies himself, with caution and his country, by the execution of a great and
candour, to give an earlier popularity to that important work-reads with a view to it, and
which can never be useful till it is truly allows himself to be referred to as engaged in
popular  To us' it appears, that he fulfils the its preparation. By degrees he finds it more
higher duty; and that to act otherwise would irksome than he had expected; and is temptbe to act like a general who should starve his ed by other studies, altogether as suitable and
troops on the eve of battle, in order to replen- less charged with responsibility, into long fits
ish his magazines for a future campaign-or of intermission. Then the very expectation
like a farmer who should cut off the rills from  that has been excited by this protracted incuhis parching crops, that he may have a fuller bation makes him more ashamed of having
reservoir against the possible drought of an- done so little, and more dissatisfied with the
other year.                              little he has done! And so his life is passed,
But we must cut this short. If we are at in a melancholy alternation of distasteful, and
all right in the views we have now taken, Sir of course unsuccessful attempts; and long fits
James Mackintosh must have been wrong in of bitter, but really groundless, self-reproach,
the regret and self-reproach with which he for not having made those attempts with more
certainly seems to have looked back on the energy and perseverance: and at last he dies,
unaccomplished projects of his earlier years: -not only without doing what he could not
-And we humbly think that he was wrong. attempt without pain and mortification, but
He had failed, no doubt, to perform all that prevented by this imaginary engagement from
he had once intended, and had been drawn doing many other things which he could have
aside from the task he had set himself, by done with success and alacrity-some one of
other pursuits. But he had performed things which it is probable, and all of which it is
as important, which were not originally in- nearly certain, would have done him more
tended; and been drawn aside by pursuits credit, and been of more service to the world,
not less worthy than those to which he had than any constrained and distressful completasked himself. In blaming himself-not for tion he could in any case have given to the
this idleness, but for this change of occupa- other. For our own parts we have already
tion - we think he was misled, in part at said that we do not think that any man, whatleast, by one very common error-we mean ever his gifts and attainments may be, is really
that of thinking, that, because the use he ac- bound in duty to leave an excellent Book to
tually made of his intellect was more agree- posterity; or is liable to any reproach for not
able than that which he had intended to make  having chosen to be an author. But, at all
it was therefore less meritorious. We need events, we are quite confident that he can be
not say, that there cannot be a worse criterion under no obligation to make himself unhappy
of merit: But tender consciences are apt to in trying to make such a book: And that as
fall into such illusions. Another cause of soon as he finds the endeavour painful and
regret may have been a little, though we really depressing, he will do well, both for himself
think but a little, more substantial. By the and for others, to give up the undertaking,
course he followed, he probably felt that his and let his talents and sense of duty take a
name would be less illustrious, and his repu- course more likely to promote, both his own
tation less enduring, than if he had fairly taken enjoyment and their ultimate reputation.




THE followinga brief notices, of three lamented and honoured Friends, certainly were not
contributed to the Edinburgh Review: But, as I am not likely ever to appear again as an
author, I have been tempted to include them in this publication-chiefly, I fear, from a fond
desire, to associate my humble name with those of persons so amiable and distinguished:
But partly also, from an opinion, which has been frequently confirmed to me by those most
competent to judge-that, imperfect as these sketches are, they give a truer and more graphic
view of the manners; dispositions, and personal characters of the eminent individuals concerned- than is yet to be found-or now likely to be furnished, from any other quarter.
THE HONOURABLE HENRY ERSKINE.*
DIED, at his seat of Ammondell, Linlith- no successor. That part of eloquence is now
gowshire, on the 8th instant, in the seventy- mute-,that honour in abeyance.
first year of his age, the Honourable Henry   As a politician, he was eminently distinErskine, second son of the late Henry David, guished for the two great virtues of inflexible
Earl of Buchan.                         steadiness to his principles, and invariable
Mr. Erskine was called to the Scottish Bar, gentleness and urbanity in his manner of asof which he was long the brightest ornament, serting them. Such indeed was the habitual
in the year 1768, and was for several years sweetness of his temper, and the fascination
Dean of the Faculty of Advocates: He was of his manners, that, though placed by his
twice appointed Lord Advocate,-in 1782 and rank and talents in the obnoxious station of a
in 1806, under the Rockingham and the Gren- Leader of opposition, at a period when politiville administrations. During the years 1806 cal animosities were carried to a lamentable
and 1807 he sat in Parliament for the Dunbar height, no individual, it is believed, was ever
and Dumfries district of boroughs.      known to speak or to think of him with any
In his long and splendid career at the bar, thing approaching to personal hostility. In
Mr. Erskine was distinguished not only by the return, it may be said, with equal correctness,
peculiar brilliancy of his wit, and the grace- that, though baffled in some of his pursuits,
fulness, ease, and vivacity of his eloquence, and not quite handsomely disappointed of
but by the still rarer power of keeping those some of the honours to which his claim was
seducing qualities in perfect subordination to universally admitted, he never allowed the
his judgment. By their assistance he could slightest shade of discontent to rest upon his
not onfy make the most repulsive subject mind, nor the least drop of bitterness to minagreeable, but the most abstruse easy and gle with his blood. He was so utterly incaintelligible. In his profession, indeed, all his pable of rancour, that even the rancorous felt
wit was argument; and each of his delightful that he ought not to be made its victim.
illustrations a material step in his reasoning.   He possessed, in an eminent degree, that
To himself, indeed, it seemed always as if deep sense of revealed religion, and that zealthey were recommended rather for their use ous attachment to the Presbyterian establishthan their beauty; and unquestionably they ment, which had long been hereditary in his
often enabled him to state a fine argument, or family. His habits were always strictly moral
a nice distinction, not only in a more striking and temperate, and in the latter part of his
and pleasing way, but actually with greater life even.abstemious.: Though the life and
precision than could have been attained by ornament of every society into which he enthe severer forms of reasoning.         tered he was always most happy and most
In this extraordinary talent, as well as in the delightful at home; where the buoyancy of
charming facility of his eloquence, and the his spirit and the kindness of his heart found
constant radiance of good humour and gaiety all that they required of exercise or enjoywhich encircled his manner of debate he had ment; and though without taste for expensive
no rival in his own times, and as yet has had pleasures in his own person, he was ever most
indulgent and munificent to his children, and
* From the " Endinburgh Courant" Newspaper a liberal benefactor to all who depended on his
of the 16th of October, 1817..          bounty.
756




PROFESSOR PLAYFAIR;                              757
He finally retired from the exercise of that tion; but retained unimpaired, till within a
profession, the highest honours of which he day or two of his death, not only all his intelhad at least deserved, about the year 1812, lectual activity and social affections, but, when
and spent the remainder of his days in do- not under the immediate affliction of a painful
mestic retirement, at that beautiful villa which and incurable disease, all that gaiety of spirit,
had been formed by his own taste, and in the and all that playful and kindly sympathy with
improvement and adornment of which he innocent enjoyment, which made him the idol
found his latest occupation. Passing thus at of the young, and the object of cordial attachonce from all the bustle and excitement of a ment and unenvying admiration to his friends
public life to a scene of comparative inactivity, of all ages.
he never felt one moment of ennui or dejecNOTICE AND CHARACTER
or
PROFESSOR PLAYFAIR.*
OF Mr. Playfair's scientific attainments, — methods of inquiry, and to imbue their minds,
of his proficiency in those studies to which he from the very commencement of the study,
was peculiarly devoted, we are but slenderly with that fine relish for the truths it disclosed,
qualified to judge: But, we believe we hazard and that high sense of the majesty with which
nothing in saying that he was one of the most they were invested, that predominated in his
learned Mathematicians of his age, and among own bosom. While he left nothing unexthe first, if not the very first, who introduced plained or unreduced to its proper place in the
the beautiful discoveries of the later conti- system, he took care that they should never
nental geometers to the knowledge of his be perplexed by petty difficulties, or bewilcountrymen; and gave their just value and dered in useless details; and formed them
true place, in the scheme of European know- betimes to those clear, masculine and direct
ledge, to those important improvements by methods of investigation, by which. with the
which the whole aspect of the abstract sciences least labour, the greatest advances might be
has been renovated since the days of our il- accomplished.
lustrious Newton. If he did not signalise   Mr. Playfair, however, was not merely a
himself by any brilliant or original invention, teacher; and has fortunately left behind him
ne must, at least, be allowed to have been a a variety of works, from which other generamost generous and intelligent judge of the tions may be enabled to judge of some of those
achievements of others; as well as the most qualifications which so powerfully recomeloquent expounder of that great and magnifi- mended and endeared him to his contempocent system of knowledge which has been raries. It is; perhaps, to be regretted that so
gradually evolved by the successive labours much of his time, and so large a proportion of
of so many gifted individuals. He possessed, his publications, should have been devoted to
indeed, in the highest degree, all the charac- the subjects of the Indian Astronomy, and the
teristics both of a fine and a powerful under- Huttonian Theory of the Earth: And though
standings —at once penetrating and vigilant,-  it is impossible to think too highly of the inbut more distinguished, perhaps, for the cau- genuity, the vigour, and the eloquence of those
tion and sureness of its march, than for the publications, we are of opinion that a juster
brilliancy or rapidity of its movements,-and estimate of his talent, and a truer picture of
guided and adorned through all its progress, his genius and understanding, is to be found
by the most genuine enthusiasm for all that in his other writings;-in the papers, both bio
is grand, and the justest taste for all that is. graphical and scientific, with which he has
beautiful in the Truth or the Intellectual Ener- enriched the Transactions of our Royal Sociegy with which he was habitually conversant. ty; his account of Laplace, and other articles
To what account these rare qualities might which he contributed to the Edinburgh Rehave been turned, and what more brilliant or view, —the Outlines of his Lectures on Natu
lasting fruits they might have produced, if his ral Philosophy,-and above all, his Introducwhole life had been dedicated to the solitary tory Discourse to the Supplement to the
cultivation of science, it is not for us to con- Encyclopaedia Brittannica, with the final corjecture; but it cannot be doubted that they rection of which he was occupied up to the
added incalculably to his eminence and utility last moments that the progress of his disease
as a Teacher; both by enabling him to direct allowed him to dedicate to any intellectual
his pupils to the most simple and luminous exertion.
With reference to these works, we do not
* Originally printed in an Edinburgh newspaper think we are influenced by any national, or
of August, 1819. A few introductory sentences are other partiality, when we say that he was
aew omitted.                             certainly one of the best writers of his age;




758                         PROFESSOR PLAYFAIR.
and even that we do not now recollect any and the singular thing in his case was, not
one of his contemporaries who was so great a only that he left this most material past of his
master of composition. There is a certain work to be performed after the whole outline
mellowness and richness about his style, had been finished, but that he could proceed
which adorns, without disguising the weight with it to an indefinite extent, and enrich and
and nervousness which is its other great char- improve as long as he thought fit, without any
acteristic, —a sedate gracefulness and manly risk either of destroying the proportions of
simplicity in the more level passages,-and a that outline, or injuring the harmony and unity
mild majesty and considerate enthusiasm  of the original design.  He was perfectly
where he rises above them, of which we aware, too, of the possession of this extraorscarcely know where to find any other exam- dinary power; and it was partly, we presume,
pie. There is great equability, too, and sus- in consequence of it that he was not only at
tained force in every part of his writings. He all times ready to go on with any work in'
never exhausts himself in flashes and epi- which he was engaged, without waiting for
grams, nor languishes into tameness or in- favourable moments or hours of greater alacsipidity: At first sight you would say that rity, but that he never felt any of those doubts
plainness and good sense were the predomi- and misgivings as to his being able to get crenating qualities; but by and bye, this sim- ditably through with his undertaking, to which
plicity is enriched with the delicate and vivid we believe most authors are occasionally liable.
colours of a fine imagination,-the free and As he never wrote upon any subject of which
forcible touches of a most powerful intellect, he was not perfectly master, he was secure
-and the lights and shades of an unerring and against all blunders in the substance of what
harmonising taste. In comparing it with the he had to say; and felt quite assured, that if
styles of his most celebrated contemporaries he was only allowed time enough, he should
we would say that it was more purely and finally come to say it in the very best way of
peculiarly a written style,-and, therefore, re- which he was capable. He had no anxiety,
ected those ornaments that more properly therefore, either in undertaking or proceeding
belong to oratory. It had no impetuosity,  with his tasks; and intermitted and resumed
hurry, or vehemence, -no bursts or sudden them at his convenience, with the comfortable
turns or abruptions, like that of Burke; and certainty, that all the time he bestowed on
though eminently smooth and melodious, it them was turned to account, and that what
was not modulated to an uniform system of was left imperfect at one sitting might be
solemn declamation, like that of Johnson, nor finished with equal ease and advantage at
spread out in the richer and more voluminous another. Being thus perfectly sure both of
elocution of Stewart; nor, still less, broken his end and his means, he experienced, in the
into that patchwork of scholastic pedantry and course of his compositions. none of that little
conversational smartness which has found its fever of the spirits with which that operation
admirers in Gibbon. It is a style, in short, of is so apt to be accompanied.  He had no
great freedom, force, and beauty; but the de- capricious visitings of fancy, which it was
liberate style of a man of thought and of necessary to fix on the spot or to lose for ever,
learning; and neither that of a wit throwing -no casual inspirations to invoke and to wait
out his extempores with an affectation of care- for, -no transitory and evanescent lights to
less grace —nor of a rhetorician thinking more catch before they faded. All that was in his
of his manner than his matter, and deter- mind was subject to his control, and amenamined to be admired for his expression, what- ble to his call, though it might not obey at the
ever may be fate of his sentiments.      moment; and while his taste was so sure,
His habits of composition were not perhaps that he was in no danger of over-working any
exactly what might have been expected from  thing that he had designed, all his thoughts
their results. He wrote rather slowly -and and sentiments had that unity and' congruity,
his first sketches were often very slight and that they fell almost spontaneously into harimperfect,-like the rude chalking for a mas- mony and order; and the last added, incorterly picture. His chief effort and greatest porated, and assimilated with the first, as if
pleasure was in their revisal and correction; they had sprung simultaneously from the same
and there were no limits to the improvement happy conception.
which resulted from this application. It was   But we need dwell no longer on qualities
not the style merely, nor indeed chiefly, that'that may be gathered hereafter from the works
gained by it: The whole reasoning, and sen- he has left behind him. They who lived with
timent, and illustration, were enlarged and him mourn the most for those which will be
new modelled in the course of it; and a naked traced in no such memorial! And prize far
outline became gradually informed with life, above those talents which gained him his high
colour, and expression. It was not at all like name in philosophy, that Personal Character
the common finishing and polishing to which which endeared him to his friends, and shed
careful authors generally subject the first a grace and a dignityover all the society in
draughts of their compositions, -nor even which he moved. The same admirable taste
like the fastidious and tentative alterations which is conspicuous in his writings, or rather
with which some more anxious writers assay the higher principles from which that taste
their choicer passages. It was, in fact, the was but an emanation, spread a similar charm
great filling in of the picture,-the working up over his whole life and conversation; and gave
of the figured weft, on the naked and meagre to the most learned Philosopher of his day
woof that had been stretched to receive it; the manners and deportment of the most per




PROFESSOR PLAYFAIR.                              756
tect Gentleman.  Nor was this in him the never failed to manifest the most open scorn
result merely of good sense and good temper, and detestation. Independent, in short, of his
assisted by an early familiarity with good high attainments, Mr. Playfair was one of the
company, and a consequent knowledge of his most amiable and estimable of men: Delightown place and that of all around him. His ful in his manners, inflexible in his principles,
good breeding was of a higher descent; and and generous in his affections, he had all that
his powers of pleasing rested on something could charm in society or attach in private;
better than mere companionable qualities.-  and while his friends enjoyed the free and
With the greatest kindness and generosity of unstudied conversation of an easy and intelnature, he united the most manly firmness, ligent associate, they had at all times the
and the highest principles of honour, -and proud and inward assurance that he was a
the most cheerful and social dispositions, with Being upon whose perfect honour and genethe gentlest and steadiest affections.   rosity they might rely with the most implicit
Towards Women he had always the most confidence, in life and in death,-and of whom
chivalrous feelings of regard and attention, it was equally impossible, that, under any cirand was, beyond almost all men, acceptable cumstances, he should ever perform a mean,
and agreeable in their society,-though with- a selfish, or a questionable action, as that his
out the least levity or pretension unbecoming body should cease to gravitate or his soul to
his age or condition: And such, indeed, was live!
the fascination of the perfect simplicity and   If we do not greatly deceive ourselves, there
mildness of his manners, that the same tone is nothing here of exaggeration or partial feeland deportment seemed equally appropriate ing,-and nothing with which an indifferent
in all societies, and enabled him to delight the and honest chronicler would not heartily conyoung and the gay with the same sort of con- cur. Nor is it altogether idle to have dwelt
versation which instructed the learned and so long on the personal character of this disthe grave. There never, indeed, was a man tinguished individual: For we are ourselves
of learning and talent who appeared in society persuaded, that this personal character has
so perfectly free from all sorts of pretension done almost as much for the cause of science
or notion of his own importance, or so little and philosophy among us, as the great talents
solicitous to distinguish himself, or so sincerely and attainments with which it was combined,
willing to give place to every one else. Even -and has contributed in a very eminent deupon subjectswhichhe had thoroughly studied, gree to give to the better society of this our
he was never in the least impatient to speak, city that tone of intelligence and liberality by
and spoke at all times without any tone of which it is so honourably distinguished. It is
authority; while, so far from wishing to set not a little advantageous to philosophy that it
off what he had to say by any brilliancy or is in fashion,-and it is still more advantaemphasis of expression, it seemed generally geous, perhaps, to the society which is led to
as if he had studied to disguise the weight confer on it this apparently trivial distinction.
and originality of his thoughts under the It is a great thing for the country at large,plainest forms of speech and the most quiet for its happiness, its prosperity, and its reand indifferent manner: so that the profound- nown, —that the upper and influencing classes
est remarks and subtlest observations were of its population should be made familiar,
often dropped, not only without any solicitude even in their untasked and social hours, with
that their value should be observed, but with- sound and liberal information, and be taught
out any apparent consciousness that they to know and respect those who have distinpossessed any.                           guished themselves for great intellectual atThough the most social of human beings, tainments. Nor is it, after all, a slight or
and the most disposed to encourage and sym- despicable reward for a man of genius, to be
pathise with the gaiety and even joviality of received with honour in the highest and most
others, his own spirits were in general rather elegant society around him, and to receive in
cheerful than gay, or at least never rose to his living person that homage and applause
any turbulence or tumult of merriment; and which is too often reserved for his memory.
while he would listen with the kindest indul- Now, those desirable ends can never be efgence to the more extravagant sallies of his fectually accomplished, unless the manners
younger friends, and prompt them by the of our leading philosophers are agreeable,
heartiest approbation, his own satisfaction and their personal habits and dispositions enmight generally be traced in a slow and tem- gaging and amiable. From the time of Hume
perate smile, gradually mantling over his and Robertson, we have been fortunate, in
benevolent and intelligent features, and light- Edinburgh, in possessing a succession of dising up the countenance of the Sage with the tinguished men, who have kept up this saluexpression of the mildest and most genuine tary connection between the learned and the
philanthropy. It was wonderful, indeed, con- fashionable world; but there never, perhaps,
sidering the measure of his own intellect, and was any one who contributed so powerfully to
the rigid and undeviating propriety of his own confirm and extend it. and that in times when
conduct, how tolerant he was of the defects it was peculiarly difficult, as the lamented in
and errors of other men. He was too indul- dividual of whom we are now speaking: And
gent, in truth, and favourable to his friends! they who have had most opportunity to ob-and made a kind and liberal allowance for serve how superior the society of Edinburgh
the faults of all mankind-except only faults is to that of most other places of the same
of Baseness or of Cruelty,-against which he size, and how much of that superiority is




760                                JAMES WATT.
owing to the cordial combination of the two the importance of the service he has thti
aristocracies, of rank and of letters,* —of both rendered to its inhabitants, and through them,
of which it happens to be the chief pro- and by their example, to all the rest of the
vincial seat, —will be best able to judge of country.
*In addition to the two distinguished persons Dr. Adam Fergusson, Mr. John Home, Mr. John
mentioned in the text, (the first of whom was, no Robison, Mr. Dugald Stewart, Sir James Hall,
doubt, before my time,) I can, from my own recol- Lord Meadowbank, Mr. Henry Mackenzie, Dr.
lection, and without referring to any who are still James Gregory, Rev. A. Alison, Dr. Thomas
living-give the names of the following residents in Brown, Lord Webb Seymour, Lord WoodhouseEdinburgh, who were equally acceptable in polite lee, and Sir Walter Scott; —without reckoning
society and eminent for literary or scientific attain- Mr. Horner, the Rev. Sydney Smith, and Mr.
ments, and alike at home in good company and George Wilson, who were settled in Edinburgh
in learned convocations:-Lord Hailes and Lord for several years, in the earlier part of the period
Monboddo, Dr. Joseph Black, Dr. Hugh Blair, referred to.
NOTICE AND CHARACTER
OF
JAMES WATT.*
MR. JAMES WATI the great improver of the It was our improved Steam-engine, in short
steam-engine, died on the 25th of August,  that fought the battles of Europe, and exalted
1819, at his seat of qeathfield, near Birming- and sustained, through the late tremendous
ham, in the 84th year of his age.          contest, the political greatness of our land. It
This name fortunately needs no commemo- is the same great power which now enables
ration of ours; for he that bore it survived to us to pay the interest of our debt, and to
see it crowned with undisputed and unenvied maintain the arduous struggle in which we
honours; and many generations will probably are still engaged, [1819], with the skill and
pass away, before it shall have gathered "all capital of countries less oppressed with taxaits fame.'  We have said that Mr. Watt was tion. But these are poor and narrow views
the great Improver of the steam-engine; but, of its importance. It has increased indein truth, as to all that is admirable in its finitely the mass of human comforts and enstructure, or vast in its utility, he should  joyments; and rendered cheap and accessirather be described as its Inventor. It was ble, all over the world, the materials of wealth
by his inventions that its action was so regu- and prosperity. It has armed the feeble hand
lated, as to make it capable of being applied of man, in short, with a power to which no
to the finest and most delicate manufactures, limits can be assigned; completed the doand its power so increased, as to set weight minion of mind over the most refractory quaand solidity at defiance. By his admirable lities of matter; and laid a sure foundation
contrivance, it has become a thing stupendous for all those future miracles of mechanic
alike for its force and its fiexibility,-for the power which are to aid and reward the laprodigious power which it can exert, and the bours of after generations. It is to the genius
ease, and precision, and ductility, with which of one man, too, that all this is mainly owing!
that power can be varied, distributed. and ap- And certainly no man ever bestowed such a
plied. The trunk of an elephant, that can gift on his kind. The blessing is not only
pick up a pin or rend an oak, is as nothing to universal, but unbounded; and the fabled'init. It can engrave a seal, and crush masses ventors of the plough and the loom, who were
of obdurate metal before it-draw out, with- Deified by the erring gratitude of their rude
out breaking, a thread as fine as gossamer, cotemporaries, conferred less important bene.
and lift a ship of war like a bauble in the air. fits on mankind than the inventor of our preIt can embroider muslin and forge anchors,-  sent steam-engine.
cut steel into ribands, and impel loaded ves-   This will be the fame of Watt with future
sels against the fury of the winds and waves. generations: And it is sufficient for his race
It would be difficult to estimate the value and his country. But to those to whom he
of the benefits which these inventions have more immediately belonged, who lived in his
conferred upon this country. There is no society and enjoyed his conversation. it is
branch of industry that has not been indebted not, perhaps, the character in which 1e will
to them; and, in all the most material, they be most frequently recalled-most deeply
7aave not only widened most magnificently lamented-or even most highly admired. Inthe field of its exertions, but multiplied a dependently of his great attainments in melhousand-fold the amount of its productions. chanics, Mr. Watt was an extraordinary, and
in many respects a wonderful man. Perhaps
*First published in an Edinburgh newspaper no individual in his age possessed so much
(" The Scotsman"), of the 4th September, 1819.  and such varied and exact information, —had




JAMES WATT.                                  761
read so much, or remembered what he had rich and instructive in no ordinary degree:
read so accurately and well. He had infinite But it was, if possible, still more pleasing
quickness of apprehension, a prodigious me- than wise and had all the charms of familimory, and a certain rectifying and methodis- arity, with all the substantial treasures of
ing power of understanding, which extracted knowledge. No man could be more social
something precious out of all that was pre- in his spirit, less assuming or fastidious in his
sented to it.  His stores of miscellaneous manners, or more kind and indulgent towards
knowledge were immense,-and -yet less as- all who approached him. He rather liked to
tonishing than the command he had at all talk-at least in his latter years: But though
times over them. It seemed as if every sub- he took a considerable share of the conversaject that was casually started in conversation tion, he rarely suggested the topics on which
with him, had been that which he had been it was to turn, but readily and quietly took'last occupied in studying and exhausting;-  up whatever was presented by those: around
such was the copiousness, the precision, and him; and astonished the idle and barren prothe admirable clearness of the information pounders of an ordinary theme, by the treaswhich he poured out upon it, without effort or ures which he drew from the mine they had
hesitation.  Nor was this promptitude and unconsciously opened. He generally seemed,
compass of knowledge confined in any degree indeed, to have no choice or predilection for
to the studies connected with his ordinary one subject of discourse rather than another;
pursuits. That he should have been minutely but allowed his mind, like-a great cyclopadia,
and extensively skilled in chemistry and the to be opened at any letter his associates might
arts, and in most of the branches of physical choose to turn up, and only endeavoured to
science, might perhaps have been conjectur- select. from  his inexhaustible stores, what
ed; But it could not have been inferred from  might be best adapted to the taste of his
his usual occupations and probably is not present hearers. As to their capacity he gave
generally known, that he was curiously learn- himself no trouble; and, indeed, such was his
ed in many branches of antiquity, metaphys- singular talent for making all things plain,
ics, medicine, and etymology, and perfectly clear, {;kd intelligible, that scarcely any one
at home in all the details of architecture, could;At aware of such a deficiency in his
music, and law. He was well acquainted, presence. His talk, too, though overflowing
too, with most of the modern languages-and with information, had no resemblance to lecfamiliar with their most recent literature. Nor turing or solemn discoursing, but, on the conwas it at all extraordinary to hear the great trary, was full of colloquial spirit and pleas.
mechanician and engineer detailing a.d er. antry. He had a certain quiet and grave
pounding, for hours together, the metaphys- humour, which ran through most of his conical theories of the German logicians, or criti- versation, and a vein of temperate jocularity,
cising the measures or the matter of the Ger- which gave infinite zest and effect to the conman poetry.                              densed and inexhaustible information, which
His astonishing memory was aided, no formed its main staple and characteristic.
doubt, in a great measure, by a still higher There was a little air of affected testiness, too,
and rarer faculty-by his power of digesting and a tone of pretended rebuke and contraand arranging in its proper place all the infor- diction, with which he used to address his
mation he received, and of casting aside and younger friends. that was always felt by them
rejecting, as it were instinctively, whatever as an endearing mark of his kindness and
was worthless or immaterial. Every concep- familiarity,-and prized accordingly, far betion that was suggested to his mind seemed yond all the solemn compliments that ever
instantly to take its proper place among its proceeded from the lips of authority.  His
other rich furniture; and to be condensed into voice was deep and powerful,-though he
the smallest and most convenient form. He commonly spoke in a low and somewhat
never appeared, therefore, to be at all encum- monotonous tone, which harmonised admirabered or perplexed with the verbiage of the bly with the weight and brevity of his obserdull books he perused, or the idle talk to vations; and set off to the greatest advantage
which he listened; but to have at once ex- the pleasant anecdotes, which he delivered
tracted, by a kind of intellectual alchemy, all with the same grave brow, and the same calm
that was worthy of attention, and to have re- smile playing soberly on his lips.  There
duced it, for his own use, to its true value and was nothing of effort indeed, or impatience.
to its simplest form. And thus it often hap- any more than of pride or levity, in his depened, that a great deal more was learned meanour; and there was a finer expression
from his brief and vigorous account of the of reposing strength, and mild self-possession
theories and arguments of tedious writers, in his manner, than we ever recollect to have
than an ordinary student could ever have de- met with in any other person. He had in his
rived from the most painful study of the ori- character the utmost abhorrence for all sorts
ginals,-and that errors and absurdities be- of forwardness, parade, and pretensions; and,
came manifest from the mere clearness and indeed, never failed to put all such impostures
plainness of his statement of them, which out of countenance, by the manly plainness
might have deluded and perplexed most and honest intrepidity of his language and
of his hearers without that invaluable assist- deportment.
ance.                                      In his temper and dispositions he was not
It is needless to say, that, with those vast only kind and affectionate, but generous, and
reaources, his conversation was at all times considerate of the feelings of all around him




762                              JAMES WAIT.
and gave the most liberal assistance and en-   This happy and useful life came, at last, to
couragement to all young persons who showed a gentle close. He had suffered some inconany indications of talent, or applied to him  venience through the summer; but was not
for patronage or advice. His health, which seriously indisposed till within a few weeks
was delicate from his youth upwards, seemed from his death. He then became perfectly
to become firmer as he advanced in years; aware of the event which was approaching;
and he preserved, up almost to the last mo- and with his usual tranquillity and benevoment of his existence, not only the full com- lence of nature, seemed only anxious to point
mand of his extraordinary intellect, but all the out to the friends around him, the many
alacrity of spirit, and the social gaiety which sources of consolation which were afforded
had illumined his happiest days. His friends by the circumstances under which it was
in this part of the country never saw him  about to take place. He expressed his sin.
more full of intellectual vigour and colloquial cere gratitude to Providence for the length
animation,-never more delightful or more of days with which he had been blessed, and
instructive,-than in his last visit to Scotland his exemption from most of the infirmities of
in autumn 1817. Indeed, it was after that age; as well as for the calm and cheerful
time that he applied himself, with all the evening of life that he had been permitted to
ardour' of early life, to the invention of a enjoy, after the honourable labours of the
machine for mechanically copying all sorts day Wad been concluded. And thus, full of
of sculpture and statuary;-and distributed years and honours in all calmness and tranamong his friends some of its earliest per- quillity, he yielded up his soul, without pang
formances, as the productions of "a young or struggle —and passed from the bosom of
artist, just entering on his eighty-third year!" his family to that of his God.




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