that my friend N-, whose figure I had seen enveloped in the mist of the chaldron, had committed suicide, by drowning himself at Abridge, in the very place where I beheld the disturbance of the water.

you

"" N- was interred at A church, on the Sunday following his death; on the evening of the funeral, Bertha called at my father's, and requested to see me. She was admitted; I thought she looked more than usually dejected. I have called, John,' she said, "to bid adieu; I am going to leave you.' Whither are you going? I asked. Her answer was, Where I trust I shall never see you.' These were her last words. After she had spoken them she rose, shook me by the hand, and left the apartment. I called at her house on the following morning; all was desolate, no traces of Bertha were seen, every thing was in disorder, the caldron was lying on the floor, split in four pieces; no person saw Bertha leave the cottage, and which way she went was never known."

Such was the story of my companion; the tale amused me, but by no means increased my bellef in witchcraft. I told the narrator so, and we again entered into a serious discussion on the subject. This continued till the clock of our inn struck seven, when the stranger left me, saying that he could not stay any longer, as he had a distance of five miles to go that evening.

D.

ADVENTURE OF AN ENGLISH KNIGHT.

IN the interminable wars between England and France, in the reign of Edward III. single acts of knights and soldiers occupy a prominent place in the chronicles of the age. One of this kind is thus narrated by Froissart. The hero of the story, it would seem, had something of Bobadil or Parolles in his character. The English army was encamped near Paris. "Now it happened," says Froissart," one Tuesday morning, when the English began to decamp, and had set fire to all the villages, wherein they were lodged, so that the fires were distinctly seen from Paris, a knight of their army, who had made a vow the preceding day, that he would advance as far as the barriers, and strike them with his lance in his hand, his target on his neck, and completely armed except his helmet, and spurring his steed, was followed by his squire on another courser carrying the helmet. When he approached Paris, he put on the helmet, which his squire laced behind. He then gollopped away, sticking spurs into his horse, and advanced prancing to strike the barriers. They were then open; and the lords and barons within, imagined he intended to enter the town, but he did not mean any such thing; for having struck the gates according to his vow, he checked his horse and turned about. The French knights who saw him thus retreat, cried out to him, ' Get away! get away! thou hast well acquitted thyself.' As for the name of this knight, I am ignorant of it, nor do I know from what country he came; but he bore for his arms, Iules à deux fousses noir, with une bor dure nuire non indentée.

THE CHARACTER OF THE RUSSIANS, and a detailed history of Moscow, by Robert Lyall, M. D. 4to. Cadel, 1823.

It is neither the prodigious extent of the Russian empire, nor the variety of nations of which its population is composed, nor the splendour of its court, nor the misery of the lower orders, which have caused a more than ordinary curiosity to know what is the internal state of the countries subject to the mighty Monarch of the North. All the above, and several other causes of interest, have long existed, but a succession of events, altogether unexpected, have successively arisen to make us more sensible of them, and of the influence which this gigantic power already exercises in the theatre of the world; an influence which probably has not yet reached the limits to which it is destined to extend. Hence we find a very ardent desire to know more fully the internal resources of this state, and to become better acquainted with the manners, laws, and institutions of a people, which having long lived in barbarism at our very doors, have at length become desirous of civilization; and whilst they are eagerly receiving it, are covertly exerting an authority over their more enlightened neighbours.

This desire, which has led to the production of much information, has been rendered the more steadfast by the contradictory statements of several authors, each of whom might have been expected to be familiar with the subject of which he professed to treat, and superior to any interested or unworthy motive for misleading his readers. Our present author endeavours to explain and reconcile these discordant notices; and his long residence in Russia, where his practice as a medical man, brought him in contact with many persons of all ranks, enables him to elucidate the subject with success.

The picture of the moral state of society is indeed a gloomy one, but yet there are traces of the dawn of a brighter day, when the present darkness shall be dispelled; and institutions are already in operation, which, we trust, will gradually lead to the establishment of others yet more powerful, to convey liberty to the peasants, and honesty and integrity precepts which never yet flourished in a state of slavery-to all ranks throughout the empire.

The character of the Russians, as set forth in the first division of this work, contains much important matter, from which we shall extract a few passages. The history of Moscow presents a mass of information, which has only been very superficially and partially exhibited by former authors. It does not admit of abridgment, nor can we so readily make extracts from it, as from the first part of the work.

"A fête was to be given by Madame Poltoratshia, the mother of the gentleman whom I accompanied, in the village of Gruzino, near Torjohi, on the Sunday subsequent to our arrival on that estate. Throughout Saturday, carriages, filled with nobles, continued to arrive from time to time, some of them with large bags filled with beds, and fixed behind them; others followed by selegos loaded with beds and pillows. Although the house of Madame Poltoratshia was of considerable size, it was matter of astonishment to me, where the whole of the party, amounting to nearly fifty individuals, were to find rooms for their accommodation in the night, though the beds were already provided. Conversation and cards were the evening amusements; and at eleven o'clock an elegant supper was served up: and at its conclusion, a scene of bustle and con

fusion followed, which riveted my attention. The dining room, the drawing room, the hall, the whole suite of apartments in which we had passed the evening, were converted into bed rooms. Dozens of small painted and unpainted bedsteads, each for a single person, and of the value, in Russia, of five rubles, were speedily transported into the chambers, and arranged along the sides of the rooms, which soon resembled a barracks, or the wards of a hospital. Scores of servants, both of those belonging to Madame Poltoratshia and to the visitors, were now running backwards and forwards with beds and mattresses, pillows and bed-linen, shoobs and baggages. Many of the beds and mattresses had no inviting appearance. Some of the guests who had been less provident were accommodated with beds; but as there was a scarcity, the beds of the servants were used by others. The number of bedsteads were also insufficient, but this was of little moment; a number of beds were immediately arranged on the floor, some upon chairs, and others upon the lejonhas (flat stoves or parts of stoves), besides all the sofas were at once converted into places of repose for the night."

"A general who commanded a corps of artillery stationed at the Imperial head-quarters, had incurred, on some trifling occasion, the serious displeasure, of the Emperor Alexander, and shortly before the battle of Leipsic, his Majesty very unceremoniously, sent one of his aides-du-camp with an order that this officer should give up his command, repair within 24 hours to a village, at the distance of twenty or thirty miles, and take charge of a regiment stationed there. Surprise, indignation and fury were successively evinced by the General, but still he obeyed the mandate. He left the head-quarters without even a moments's loss of time, arrived at his new destination, examined it, reviewed the regiment, and immediately drove back to his former station. At a review of some troops on the following morning, the Emperor's eye soon perceived him at the head of his corps. Astonishment and rage were depicted in the monarch's physiognomy; and he dispatched an aid-du-camp to inquire what the General was doing there, and why he had left his new station, and dared to disobey his sovereign's orders. The General, who is a man of talents, of general information, aud of an unconquerable, and somewhat ferocious spirit, with energy replied to the aid-du-camp. Go back and tell his Imperial Majesty that the present time is highly important, and that I feel anxious for the fate of Russia. Tell him that henceforth I serve not Alexander, but my country, and that I am here where I ought to be, at the head of my troops, ready to sacrifice my life in her cause." Such an uncontemplated and heroic answer, instead of rousing the furious passions of the mind, as might have been expected, where despotism is really absolute, had a very opposite effect. The Emperor seemed surprised, replied not a word, and was glad to hush the affair to sleep, lest the General's example should be too generally known, and become a precedent, for the future, to the officers of the autocratic army. Before the battle of Montmartre, the General, who continued in his former command, had a station assigned him in the middle of danger, on purpose, as is supposed by some, that his head might be carried away by a cannon-ball, and thus rid the Emperor of a refractory and liberal-minded officer. This gentleman, who fears no danger," rejoiced at the occasion, fought bravelv, and conquered. It rebounds to the credit of Alexander, that he called for the General on the field of battle, and bestowed upon him the cordon of St. George. Since this period he has been employed on an important mission; and at this moment he holds one of the highest and most responsible offices of the state."

Several statements in this work will probably expose the author to much cavil and reproach; we think unjustly so; we have considered many passages, which will probably be severely oppugned, and compared them with information derived from private sources, on which we can place unlimited reliance, and we doubt not but the correctness of Dr. L.'s relation will ultimately be admitted.

* Barracks, so spelt by our author throughout the work.-Q. Why?

IMITATION AND PLAGIARISM.

MR. MERTON,

(A Letter.)

Dis

I HAVE lately amused myself with looking over the pages of your new Miscellany, in which I find much to approve, although I cannot help considering you as an adventurous knight, thus to have sallied out on the plains of modern literature, where so many are prepared for the joust. Your armour, however, unlike that of the knight of La Mancha, appears to be strong, the cuirass polished, and the helmet free from rust. Without gifting you with the sword of Amadis, or the lance of Durandarte, I wish you a fair field and a free course. continuing the metaphorical ideas which have thus arisen in my brain, I consider modern authors, and the public, as two separate parties, one of which provides matter, which the other disperses and analizes, in order that its elements may be employed in forming new combinations. What originality these combinations may possess, is not the question; but certainly they appear in a novel shape. Thus one age lives on another, and appropriates to itself the productions of past times. Great industry is now evinced in ransacking the hoards of ancient English literature: a poetical or dramatic Decameron (for it consists of dialogues) has appeared, and astounded us with the table-talk of the literati in the days of Royal Bess. Ford, Decker, Marlow, and Shirley, arise with graces not their own; and truly they would have marvelled much, could they have foreseen the honours which awaited them in a future age. Amidst this constellation of worthies, why is Drayton now forgot? Unhappy Drayton! whose encomiums James I. treated with such royal indignation, although his Poly-Olbion was enriched with notes and illustrations by the learned Selden; and some of his poems deserve a better fate than oblivion. But I indulge in vagaries, Mr. Merton; the glorious age of ruffs and farthingales, and chivalry, and Virginia, seduced my imagination. To be téte-a-tête with some of these illustrious personages, appeared better than a grave conference with an ancient Roman in the Attic nights of Aulus Gellius. I have been led into this train of observations by the appearance of a new poem of Lord Byron's.* The fertility of his lordship's imagination would surprise us did we not know how much, in his late productions, he has been indebted to the Italian and classic writers. this new poem which, it has been said, bears a resemblance, but in my opinion, a very faint one, to the indescribable Faust of Goëthe, when he says to the deformed Arnold,

-But get hence,

And gather wood.

In

Who does not perceive the evident allusion to Caliban in the Tempest? It may be difficult to define the limits to which imitation should extend, and beyond which the author would become a plagiarist. Whatever, as Lord Bacon expresses it," Comes home to men's business and bosoms!" whatever belongs to nature and to life, that which finds a mirror in every bosom, and strikes a chord which vibrates through every heart; this cannot be plagiarism, it is only the reflection of the mind of the classical ob

*The Deformed Transformed, a Poem, by the Right Honourable Lord Byron, which is reviewed in No. 4, p. 55.

sever, of beloved and pleasing objects of life. When Lord Byron, alluding to that secret language of love-the mute eloquence of the eyes, had said

We met-we gaz'd-I saw, and sigh'd;
She did not speak, and yet replied:
There are ten thousand tones and signs
We hear and see, but none defines.

Another poet conceived the same idea ;

MAZEPPA.

There is a language by the virgin made
Not read, but felt; not utter'd, but betrayed:
A mute communion, yet so wondrous sweet,
Eyes must impart what tongue can ne'er repeat.
WOMAN. BARRETT.

This I do not conceive to be plagiarism; but where particular prospects of local scenery abound, and particular views of private life occur, the author who first adopted and described them as his own, would in his ideas and images be original; and similar ideas and images expressed in similar forms of language by writers of a succeeding age must be plagiarisms. I have made these remarks, Mr Merton, for the purpose of introducing to the notice of your readers the succeeding quotation of Dante, with a translation by Merivale; and a professed, but unacknowledge imitation by Lord Byron. It will readily be perceived, that "the far bell of vesper" of the noble bard, is a closer translation of the " squilla di contano" of Dante, than the "village chimes of

Merivale.

Era già l' ora, che volge 'l desio

A' naviganti, e intenerisce il core
Lodi, ch' han detto à dolci amici Addio;
E che lo nuovo peregrin d' amore

Punge, se ode squilla di' contano,

Che paja 'l giorno pianger che si muore.

DANTE.

'Twas now the hour when fond desire renews
To him who wanders o'er the pathless main,
Raising unbidden tears, the last adieus
Of tender friends whom fancy shapes again,
When the late parted pilgrim thrills with thought
Of his lov'd home, if o'er the distant plain
Perchance, his ears the village chimes have caught,
Seeming to mourn the close of dying day.

MERIVALE.

Soft hour, which makes the wish, and melts the heart
Of those who sail the seas on the first day

When they from their sweet friends are torn apart :
Or fills with love the pilgrim on his way.
As the far bell of vesper makes him start,
Seeming to wait the dying day's decay.

Feb. 23, 1824.

I am, Sir, your's, &c.

C

BYRON.