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have no doubt of each being able to gain and to main tain a footing for itself. The Foreign Review' has greater vivacity than its contemporary; its articles are written with less care, and, to general readers, are more amusing; they are probably in most cases, the workmanship of younger, more active, and more ardent artificers. Speaking thus, we allude to the majority, for every here and there it is evident that very grave and ancient persons are willing to lend a hand. Mr. Southey is no chicken, as we all know; and even if the subject did not convict him, there are tolerable traces in the style of one article, On the Expulsion of the Moriscoes' from Spain, that the number which has just issued from the press owes him 56 pages worth of obligation. The most lively, persevering, and able writer in this Review, is the translator of Wilhelm Meister, if we are not mistaken in attributing to that gentleman two articles, on Goethe, one on the life of Heyne; and one in the last Number, On German Playwrights.' The most obvious peculiarity in these articles, is their quaint and lively style, a style which, though it sometimes degenerates into what an intolerant critic might call affectation, seems on the whole, a very appropriate expression of the enthusiastic spirit of the writer, and posseses the power which more regular styles often do not possess, of communicating that spirit to the reader. But there are much greater merits than this doubtful one in Mr. Carlyle's articles. Putting his opinions out of the question (and though the colouring of these may be foreign, they are painted, as far as we can judge, upon a ground of good old English feeling), his articles contain unquestionably the most lively, and the most accurate picture of different phases of the German mind that has ever been presented to our countrymen. The article on Wieland, which we mentioned as doing such infinite credit to the 'Foreign Quarterly,' is interesting chiefly as the sketch of an individual mind; and the light that it throws upon the national character is not so much a direct as a reflected light. On the other hand, the main purpose of Mr. Carlyle's article is to elucidate the peculiarities of German feeling and life; and the men to whom he introduces us are brought forward chiefly be cause they embody, better than any thing can, these peculiarities. This idea is a happy oneespecially happy with regard to Germany-a country which both we and its own inhabitants are too apt to regard as a region of systems and not of human beings. On the whole, the 'Foreign Review' is, like its rival, a decidedly improving

work. The article on Russian Literature, in the fourth number, (in spite of some inaccuracies, in the original as well as the translated parts, which ye think could scarcely have proceeded from the able writer of it,) was valuable, and in a great degree novel; and the present number contains a very interesting communication respecting Turkey, from the pen of a person who seems well acquainted with the subject. This number we think is the best that has yet appeared of the 'Foreign



lesson be taught? It will be taught, so far as
experience can teach any thing, by our discover-
ing in the history of foreign literatures that they
have risen into greatness or waned into insignifi-
cance, just in proportfon as they have nourished
or have repressed their individuality; and it will
be impressed upon us far more potently and feel-
ingly by the study of those literatures themselves,
which, stirring up the activity of our minds, and
urging us to create something, but presenting to
us forms borrowed so entirely from circumstances
with which we are unacquainted, that we cannot
have the slightest right to them as models, will
compel us, after a few ineffectual essays at copy-
ing, to draw the materials with which we wook
from the world around us, from our own words,
and lakes, and firesides, and the glorious events of
our history.

of sunshine and fog. As we become more acquainted with great foreigners, we shall become more impregnated with their spirit; and the strongest feeling in the spirit of each of them was a wish to form the loose elements of thought and feeling which lay scattered over the countries which he adorned into a firm, concentrated national mind.



'With whom alone 'twas natural to please,'

The Ellis Correspondence. Letters written during the years 1686, 1687, 1688, and addressed to John Ellis, Esq., Secretary to the Commissioners of his Majesty's Revenue in Ireland: comprising many particulars of the Revolution, and Anecdotes Illustrative of the History and Manners of those Times. Edited, from the Originals, with Notes and a Preface, by the Hon. George Agar Ellis. 2 Vols. Colburn. London, 1829. In the 18th century, every one cried out that THE most worthless portion of English history, French literature must be the most glorious lite- that portion which presents us with scarcely any rature in Europe, because every nation in Europe characters that are not despicable, with scarcely had taken it in preference to its own. The plays any events that are not spots on the national esof Corneille and Voltaire, screamed the Blairs cutcheon, is the very portion of which we possess and the La Harpes, are acted in every town from the most accurate and perfect knowledge. The the Tagus to the Volga-what other proof do you Memoirs of the Count de Grammont, as the most want of their power and their universality? We perfect private court history in any language, want no other proof of their being the most beg-from the pen of one who could say quorum pars garly productions of the human mind that ever magna fui,—the diary of Evelyn as a view of men aspired to the name of poetry. If there had been and things from one who was just near enough to any power and originality in these works, they form a tolerably right judgment of them, without must either have evoked originality in the minds being much corrupted by the contact, the diary to which they were addressed, or have become of Pepys, a private still of gossip, absolutely distasteful to those minds, because there was no undiluted by the least mixture of thought congeniality of feeling between them. There is or feeling these works present us with a more no instance on record and it is impossible, from perfect picture than probably any nation possesses the first principles of the human mind, that there of any period of its history. But the interest should be an instance-of a work of genius conti- of the greater part of them ceases with the death of nuing to be admired by an individual or a nation, the merry monarch. His brother, though so very in whom none of the powers which produced it considerably engaged in the gallantries of Charles's are consciously alive. It was because French court, seems, after he became religious, to have poetry was so powerless, so ungenerative, that it contented himself with one mistress; and there continued to be relished by people who could was not much leisure in that reign for any diverfashion nothing for themselves. There was a tions except executions. The loss too of the great sympathy of deadness between the mind and the star of chivalry, of him, literature. The two corpses clave to each other, till the embrace was broken, as in the case of Germany, by the dead public mind acquiring life, and throwing off the incubus that encumbered it; as in the case of Spain, by their both putrifying together. The French, of all the literatures in Europe, we apprehend, is the only one that could maintain long an ascendancy in any country, because it is the only one which, meeting with a nation capable of enjoying it, would not have been the means of summoning forth that hidden native strength which would endure no foreign domination. The feelings of Frenchmen at the present moment, with regard to our literature and the German, seem, but only seem, to be an exception to this truth. Shakspeare and Goethe, it is true, are beginning to be admired, after a fashion, in that country; and it is true that no national poetry has yet appeared there which the impulse of that admiration can have created. But this is only a temporary state of mind, which will speedily pass We had intended to conclude with some re- away: after a short struggle, they will either vomit flections on the particular advantages which ought up the new food, and return to the diet of their to result from the existence of both those works, fathers; or, it will be really digested, and, losing but as our article has already run to a consider- all its primary qualities, will mix with their life's able length, we will content ourselves with men-blood, and become a part of their system. tioning one, and it appears to us the most important, good which they are likely to work out for us, and which has never been sufficiently dwelt upon, even by the founders of these valuable periodicals. We think they will assist in making us more strictly, more genuinely, more completely national. This is no paradox, nor are we using the word national in a different sense from the ordinary one. We mean, that as we advance in a knowledge of foreign literature, we shall become more wedded to our own truly national literature; we mean, that we shall be more averse from imitation; we mean, that we shall be more earnest to cultivate a certain idiosyncracy in all our thoughts, habits, and feelings. And how will this

Away then with the notion that we shall be Italianized by studying Ariosto,-Hispanicised by delighting in Calderon,-Germanised by loving Schiller. No!-the Spanish scholar, because he has become enamoured of the Castilian or the Morisco costume, for its picturesque adaptation to the people who wear it-will be just the man most superstitiously to clothe his English children in plain broad cloth and stout hose-the greatest enthusiast for Johannisberg amid the scenery of the Rhine, will cling most devoutly to Port on the banks of the Thames-the admirer of blue skies, as harmonising so well with the musical indolence of an Italian's mind, will be just he who would hold out most stoutly for our alternations

had thrown a damp upon the court at the close of the preceding reign; and its liveliness was not likely to be restored by his rebellion and death. In short, those who cannot be satisfied to exchange the smile of Jermyn for the frown of Jeffries, and to consider one revolution some compensation for the loss of five hundred faux pas, may as well close the volume of history at the accession of the last Stuart, and, therefore, need not take up The Ellis Correspondence.'

This work is a collection of letters, written generally by unknown correspondents, to a collateral ancestor of the editor, Mr. Agar Ellis, who was Secretary to the Commission for the Public Revenue in Ireland, in the reign of James II., and became Under Secretary of State after the Revolution. The remarks we have just made will account for the letters containing little besides dry news, the age of lively private scandal being at an end, even if there had been a Count Anthony Hamilton to describe it. The writers of these letters, too, (some of whom Mr. Ellis conjectures to have been persons hired for the purpose of reporting,) seem to observe considerable caution in expressing their opinions about the measures of which they speak.

Whether this arose from the correspondents being aware of each other's sentiments, and not thinking it necessary to refer frequently to them, or from their having shrewd suspicions that excessive loyalty to an imprudent court was unwise, certain it is, that much of the interest which might have belonged to such letters is lost by this abstinence, and they add but little either to our stock of facts, or to our concern about those with which we were acquainted previously. We will endeavour to make a few extracts which may be interesting to our readers. The following is more lively in its style than most letters in the collection :

too high for them. His Majesty, as a piece of gallantry,
made all his 4000 horse march at two in the morning
into Staines Meadow, and attend the Queen from thence
to the Heath, where she honoured Lord Arran with
dining with him. But his Sacred designs a farther
graciousness in a few days, viz. to go and let all his
good friends of Bristoll, Taunton, and the towns about
see him, and judge how decent an attendance 4000 men
at arms are. The Chancellor of Scotland stays here to
take Lord Middleton down with him President of the
Council of that kingdom; poor Middleton hangs back,
thinking of Cleveland's judgment, and of Cain's doom.
The chief reason is to admit Lord Montague into his
room, who is come in with the Jesuits, and will be
Secretary. We little value the Austrian fashion, and
keep close to the French. All our old bags are routing
out to rig up a fleet against spring; 5000 men at work
in the yards the Hollanders see the storm and dread
it, for we are much beforehand with them. When
matters are riper, the Treasury will run into commis-
sion, and Powis preside. The Monk and Jesuits pull
hard, the first by the King's sleeve, the other by the
Queen. I think they will shuffle out Pere Mansuete
from Confessor to the King, and Peters the Jesuit get
in, who is also made President of Whitehall new Chapel.
Your brother and Marsh and Mansuete make a sort of
triumvirate of it at present. Have a care how you let
any of this be seen. The gazette will tell you foreign


'London, March 27th, 1686. 'Yours are of so old a date and filed np, that I cannot tell when I last heard from you. I hope my quarrel may most justly be laid upon the ill weather, for all blows rank storms here these sixteen last days; yet his Majesty to-day (God bless him) underwent the fatigue of a long fox-chase. I saw him and his followers return, as like drowned rats as ever appendixes to royalty did. I can send you little certainty of matters, but that the Navy Commission is filled up according to Pepys's good liking. I went on purpose this afternoon to your monkish brother, and spent some hours with him; that sort of interest is strong, and a sort of necessity for using it. The chief of my aim was to urge him to attack Pepys, in order to make you a Commissioner on this side the water in the Navy; he has promised me to go speedily to him, with whom he has a fair acquaintance, and the high channel your borther's credit runs in makes not the worse for you. We often believe men have greater credit with Princes than really they have, which undoubtedly capacitates them to do us greater services with equals; as in this case I hope to your satisfaction you will find. Neither are you by any means to find fault with the way taken to attain this, for St. Paul refused not to go in the ship, though dedicated to Heathen Gods. He harped at something of your backwardness to lay down some money for Sam. Pray let me intreat you, if your convenience will in anywise admit of it, consult with Will, and do it; there is the indelible obligation and affection of a brother on the one hand to urge you, aud the insuring one that is both forward and able to do you offices of value on the other.

The matter now grows somewhat barefaced which way the Catholic cause is to be advanced, for the Palatinate's envoy has taken a house in the city, and is making conveniences for a mass chapel, that looks like something else than a place of prayer for his private family; whereupon the Lord Mayor, by some damned Protestant instigation, goes and forbids farther workings, locks up the place and takes the keys; but last night, his Majesty (not being to be so used) sent for Lord Mayor, and bade him return the man his goods, and ask pardon of the public minister. It may reasonably be expected that in a little time a great many so charactered may follow the example ad propagandam fidem. It looks with an odd face, and provoking to the mobile, and ours have as weak a pretence to prudence upon such occasions as any mobile in the world. Stroude is dead, or dying. Lord Pembroke will succeed in one or both the commands, as I guess. Sir Edward Hales made Governor of Barbadoes. Merideth, a sort of Privy Councillor to Lord Sunderland, has put Clarke in dead Fr. Benson's room. Duchess of Northumberland's affair, I believe, is accommodating in the mouth of the river; a wise undertaking always ends thereafter.'-Vol. i., pp. 81-86.

The importance attached to such an event as that mentioned in the next extract is characteristic of these times :

'On Sunday at Stamford's Chapel came in a heedless prentice, where being laughing and staring, an officer of it bade him go out, since he appeared not by his behaviour to be of that religion. He said he would not go out, and if they said much to him, he would break their crosses and juggling-boxes down; whereupon a riot seemed to form; a constable was charged with him, and the Militia officer on the guard called, but between them the fellow in fault slipped away; yet not so far but he watched the outcoming of either the priest, or an appendix of the Chapel, and beat and dragged him through the kennel. The Lord Mayor was yesterday called before the Council upon it, and told, if he kept not the peace better, the King would send some of his regiments to do it, and in the mean time, that the negligent Militia officer be taken and secured to answer the law.'-Vol. i. pp. 111-112.

The following letter goes greater length than almost any in the expression of opinion, and our readers will observe the caution at the close: 'London, July 27th, 1686. We have many packets due here; none since Friday was sevennight. My Lord Ormond stays here in expectation; my poor Lord's concern is the chief cause of it. I was at Windsor last week, and was once in the mind to have carried the reference of the Carriages to the Attorney-General, but was kept back, and resolve to let it sleep till after Michaelmas. Your great Lord Tyrconnell we expect here next month to turn his pancake, for we are assured he only thinks it enough on one side yet. High doings at court and camp: the officers all ready to look out for purchases; but they must keep in the high-ways for them, inclosures being

'Lord Carlingford will go General of our Holland forces, to better model them, and not let them stay long there.'-Vol. i. pp. 152-155.

These absurd verses are quoted in one of the letters, and are specimens of the trash with which Dryden was assailed by his Whig opponents :


' On the Author of “The Hind and Panther,”
'Predestination how can he deny
Whose nimble Hind is "fated not to die?"
Yet how can she who this receives from fate
Of her own strength receive immortal state?
But in that faith it is not strange to see
Choice transubstantiated to decree;
Our Poet's choice is mere necessity. . . .
His vocal wants admonish him to range,
And 'twere great pity he should starve and change.
His praise of Nol obtain'd no lasting boon,
Because his hated memory stunk so soon.
Now sure he cannot fail of a supply
From a rich mother? fated ne'er to die.
But how can he receive it from the Cowls,
Who likens their beloved Nuns to owls?
Nor can the Sovereign hand reward his tongue,
Who counts it his prerogative to wrong.

Which since the elder is not pleased to quit,
That this should yield unto its fate 'tis fit,
Like the crazed ruins of his monumental wit,
Whose darkness in the abyss of light is set,
Though glory blazes round, 'tis darkness yet.

'On the same.
'To put religion into doggrel rhyme,
May well become the Trent-ists of our time;
For being naked found in holy writ,
They fly for refuge to her fig-leaved wit.'
Vol. i. pp. 318-319.

London, June 30th, 1688. Yesterday the seven Bishops came to their trial, which held from morning till seven at night. We gave you an account of the jury in our last. The first twelve stood, only Sir John Berry was not there: they did not bring in their verdict last night, and it is said they had not agreed upon it this day at four in the morning.

the other Bishops was not otherwise made out than by the belief and supposition of the witnesses, though their own servants were subpoenaed against their masters, so that the Court was of opinion there was not sufficient proof of their hand-writing.

"The Counsel, in handling the matter for the Bishops, divided the substance of the information into two parts, whereof the same consisted; the first was, that they had maliciously, seditiously, and slanderously made, contrived, and published, a false and seditious libel against the King, which tended to diminish his regal authority and prerogative: the second part of the plea for the Bishops was as to the special matter of their petition, which showed there was no malice or sedition

in it.

As to the Archbishop, it was objected, that he could not be within the indictment, for that it was laid in Middlesex, and his grace had not been out of Surrey in seven or eight months. To this it was answered, that his signing and writing of the petition, and sending of it over to be delivered in Middlesex, was a sufficient publishing of it there. But the Court was divided in this point.

As to the first point, much time was spent in proving the hands of the Bishops: that of the Archbishop was proved and well known by several; but that of

Then the King's Counsel alledged, that the Bishops had owned their hand-writing in the Council, and had also confessed the delivery of the petition. It was replied on the Bishops' side, that they had owned their hands, but after that the Lord Chancellor had required them to do it; and that they had done it, trusting to his Majesty's goodness that no advantage would be made of their confession against themselves. But they denied they had owned the delivery of the petition, much less that they had published it; and there being no other evidence of it than that they had been with the Lord • Sunderland, and had offered his Lordship a sight of a petition, which he had refused, nor did he see them deliver it to the King, the Court said it was only a presumption, and no proof.

'As to the matter of the petition, whether a libel upon the Government or no, the Attorney and SolicitorGeneral maintained it was; for that it boldly meddled with the acts of the Government, declaring his Majesty's toleration to be illegal, and thereby tending to diminish the King's authority and prerogative royal.

The lawyers' maxims he's allow'd to blame,
"Whose old possession stands till th' elder quits his great joy.'-Vol. ii., pp. 7—11.

'To this the Bishops' Counsel replied, that they had done but what was the right of every subject, to petition the King, and that in matter of conscience, and upon the account of religion, which they were by their oaths and by the laws of the land to take care of; and quoted several laws and statutes to that purpose. They urged also, that they did not declare the King's Declaration of indulgence to be illegal, but said only that the Parliaments of 62, 72, and 89, had declared so; whereupon the Journals of Lords and Commons were read.

The Court was also divided in this point. The Chief Justice and Judge Allibone said that it was a libel, but Judges Powell and Holloway were of a contrary opinion.

The Attorney and Solicitor were only for the King, and kept their ground against Pemberton, Sawyer, Finch, Pollexfen, Treby, and Sommers, who were for the Bishops.

'London, Oct. 23d, 1688. 'Our Irish tall fellows came into Holborne, where they quarter, on Saturday; on Sunday a squabble with the neighbourhood, but not much hurt, though the world talk of murder, ravishment, &c. There seems to be little use for them at last; for our last accounts from Holland say a mighty sickness among men and horses, and the Prince of Orange very melancholy.

The trial of the Bishops is described in the fol- They were much shattered, to be sure, and concealed their harm what they could. We begin to vapour here lowing newspaper style : apace, and strive for troops. I wish myself quit of some burthensome horses; for I look upon the terror over, but what they will have by our fleet and fireships, if the wind would shrink but to a moderate gale. Yesterday, before the preceding tidings came, was held a high Council here. There were summoned the Lords Spiritual and Temporal here or hereabouts, the Judges, (whereof Sir Thomas Stringer, to-day a new one, in the place of Allibone, dead,) Lord Mayor of London, Aldermen, and Sheriffs, and the eminent lawyers; where the King, in short, told them, that he did not doubt but they were all satisfied the design of Holland was to invade him; that he was firmly resolved to oppose them in person; and because he knew not how Providence might dispose of him, he had called them there, he hoped, to convince them of the barbarity of the report that had painted him so unnatural that he would debar his own daughters from the right of succeeding him, to give his kingdoms to a suppositious son; therefore, he offered the proof to be scanned before them of the legallity of his son the Prince's birth, which was the Queen Dowager's oath, Lady Roscommon, Lady Bellasis, Arran, and Sun

'This morning, between ten and eleven, the Jury brought in their verdict, the Bishops attending in Court, Not Guilty in part or whole: which causes

We will take one letter out of a number, which describe the alternations of hope and fear respecting the Orange invasion :

Sunderland, and many others, that swore very plainly and positively in the matter; and his Majesty at last declared, upon his honour, that he had often laid his band upon the Queen's belly, and felt the child stir. This will be registered in Chancery after the same manner the late King's declaration was of the Duke of Monmouth's illegitimacy. We are low in the pocket at Court, and so am I that lie now inthe neighbourhood of it: therefore, hereafter direct your's to me at Mr. Michael East's, in Ax-yard, King-street, Westminster : Sarsefeild said he had not answered my note at Dublin, but would do it here, which I faintly hope. If you can do any good with Mr. Eustace, send me a bill.

I have been scandalised and used like a dog by

Lords Dartmouth and Preston: they casting out in their cups that I was a spy employed by the priests to give intelligence and drive that interest. God knows how far I have been from such designs, or injuring any body for the freedom of their private discourse; yet is this whispered about to my great trouble; and upon taxing Lord Preston, he denies all with imprecations; and Mr. Musgrave pretend to answer for my Lord Dartmouth, that he never either said or thought such a thing. I could well enough sit down with this dirt thrown at me, knowing that it will rub off when it is dry; but that the thought, I fear, sticks with my Lord D. of Ormonde. You have known some of my nearest thoughts: if you think I deserve your good word, say something to him in your next.'-Vol. ii. pp. 255-259,

WE believe the work before us has excited much greater attention in this country than in France. Indeed, however novel among ourselves might be the anecdotes it contains, we imagine they were by no means so among our neighbours, and probably there are few of the writer's contemporaries, frequenting good society in Paris, but who might have furnished us with memoirs of equal interest and importance. It is not our wish to represent the volumes as devoid of information, far less do we design to impugn the credit that is due to them. The authoress seems to write with care, to believe what she has written and to report of Josephine much which she had herself seen; but to see and to observe are very different things. Our principal astonishment is, that any one who possessed such opportunities of contemplating the illustrious woman to whom these memoirs owe their chief attraction, should have found so little to record, about which the world will ever care to be instructed. Many traits are indeed described of her, all tending to justify the respect and veneration which society will ever cherish for her gentle and amiable character, but any one who refers to these pages with a hope of obtaining minute details of her private life, or fresh expositions of her sentiments, feelings, and opinions, will certainly be disappointed.

The book is entitled Memoirs of Josephine,' but Josephine occupies a scanty portion of its chapters; in her absence, however, it must be confessed other characters figure on the scene who are not altogether unworthy of attention. Let us take one of the most interesting, the Princess Pauline. Pauline Buonaparte as it is well known, was at first married to General Le Clerc, and on his death to the Prince Borghese, one of the richest nobleman of Italy:

The authoress having then noticed her extreme ignorance in every thing not immediately relating to dress, adds

'Madame Leclerc, was, without doubt, the most lovely person I have ever beheld. Jealousy and envy, so ready to observe defects in that which is admired, never succeeded in finding the slightest imperfection in that exquisite countenance, to which were united the utmost elegance and perfection of form, and the most fascinating grace. To censure her exterior was absolutely impossible; it was requisite either to be silent or to add ones own eulogies to those which that surpassing beauty every where excited. Happily for those women who repine at the success of others, they found opportunity enough of revenging themselves on the mind, the character, and the conduct of Madame Leclerc.'-p. 19.

At a later period, when she was known as the Princess Borghese, flattery, carried to the most abject adulation, may have found the means of proving that a sister of the great Napoleon was necessarily a woman perfect in every particular; but at the time of which speak, the world went no further than to praise with enthusiasm her admirable face. It was right-all that could be said on that point was below reality. Without desiring to enter here into details of her

private life, one must yet acknowledge the dissolute

ness of her manners.'-p. 20.


'M. Rabusson, the brother-in-law of Horace Vernet, evinced before Napoleon a presence of mind which gained him two steps, and prepared for him the promotion which he has since obtained. He was a souslieutenant in some regiment. The Emperor at a review let fall his hat, which M. Rabusson pressed forward to pick up. "Thank you, Captain," said the Emperor, without paying attention to the rank of him whom he was addressing. "In what regiment, Sire?" Memoires sur l'Imperatrice Josephine, ses Contemporains, "Ah! true, in my guard," replied Napoleon, smiling at his own mistake, and the coolness of the spokesman. He asked his name, and learned that he was a brave man, whom various acts of merit had rendered worthy of the cross of the legion of honour. Afterwards, he kept his eye upon him, gave him some perilous opportunities of distinguishing himself, from which he came out with honour, and granted him various successive rewards.'-p. 137.

Vol. II.

la Cour de Navarre et de la Malmaison. Colburn. London, 1828.

The princess's indiscretions survived her personal attractions. They who beheld her a few years previous to her death, when a certain Russian nobleman engrossed her attention, looked in vain for that exquisite beauty of form and feature which had once not merely excited the admiration of the Salon, but which the tasteful genius of Canova so much delighted to portray. Our

next extract is of a different character.

The following anecdote of one of the old noblesse of France, may perhaps surprise those of our own countrymen who have not been in the habit of considering a declaration of bankruptcy an honourable means of obtaining distinction. The father of our authoress one day surprised the Duke de Lauragueies in an agony of grief, and exclaiming that he was a ruined, a dishonoured


"But how, M. le Duc! what has befallen youa frightful, horrible thing-have you lost a large sum at play?-Pooh, I am used to that, much worse,a fearful misfortune I tell you. You alarm me; I know not what to think, for the sorrows of the heart seldom trouble you, and-oh! if it were only the death of a mistress!-but, alas! it is much worse than that. Twenty years ago, I did all I could to effect my own ruin; eighteen months since I became bankrupt, very honourably, very reasonably, and all Paris talked about it. Well, but see now; has not this rascal Guémené thought proper to fail for fourteen millions! I am completely shoved aside; I shall pass along unnoticed now; I shall now be talked of no more than a citizen of the Rue Saint Denis-you must acknowledge that I am most unfortunate."'-pp. 156, 157.

The fifteenth chapter of this volume contains an animated and lively account of the alarms that must have agitated the inhabitants of Paris at the advance of the the allies on that city in 1814.

'Previous to the entrance of the allied armies into Paris, the whole disposable force of every description was called forth for its defence. To free themselves from the trouble of mounting guard, the most distinguished performers of the capital enrolled themselves in the principal military bands, of which Mehul, Cherubini, Berton, and Paër, were leaders; Nicolo, clarionet; Boyeldieu, chapeau Minois; Nadermann, big drum ; Talon, fifer, &c. All these distinguished characters, beating and blowing in amusing emulation, created a fearful discord; and, in listening to these harsh sounds, it would have been difficult to believe that the different parts were entrusted to men of celebrity in the musical art.'-Note, p. 172. After the capitulation of Paris, Josephine, uncertain of the result which events might have upon her own fortunes, fled from Malmaison, and took up her abode for a short period at Navarre. Her only amusement seems to have been wandering in

the grounds of the palace by herself, or with a single companion.

'The conversation that at any time ensued, turned naturally upon the political state of France, or the situation of Napoleon, of whom she took a pleasure in relating anecdotes, with which she only was acquainted; but at the end of the walk she would appear overpowered with the weight of accumulated grief, and constantly finished with these words, accompanied with a sigh"Ah! if he had only listened to me."'-p. 190.

Glory and distinction are but rarely the portion of women; to them, whatever may be their mental endowments, society holds out few inducements to desert the great circle of domestic life. The transcendant abilities of some individuals of the sex have indeed caused them to be excepted, but they are few in number; the generality of those who have attracted the attention of mankind have owed that distinction rather to some fortuitous circumstances of life or death, than to their talents or their virtues. And happy has been the woman who, chosen by fortune to rank and station above her fellows, has shown herself equally pre-eminent by the excellence of her understanding and the benevolence of her heart. Of this class was Josephine, she rose from a private place in society to the most exalted, and she was respected and beloved while among her equals, and when Empress she united all around her in one common bond of delighted and grateful affection.

her daughter Hortense to the sovereigns, that JoseIt was in returning from an entertainment given by phine experienced the first attack of that disorder resisted the progress of the diseases. Her thoughts which terminated in her death. For a long time she and her wishes were with Napoleon in Elba; and, could she have joined him, it is possible that her life might have been prolonged to a later date. "Never," said she, remarking on the situation of the Emperor in Elba, "never have I deplored so grealy a divorce which has always been to me the source of affliction." On the 10th of May, the Emperor Alexander dined at Malmaison, but Josephine was obliged to retire early, in hopes that rest would bring renovated health on the morrow; but the morrow and the following days found her so much worse that, on the 24th, when Alexander and the King of Prussia were to breakfast with her, the physicians forbade her appearing; this order, however, she refused to obey, till weakness compelled her to leave her place to be supplied by Hortense. From this moment her malady took a serious turn; on the 25th, the Emperor of Russia proposed to send his own physician, but this she declined. Indeed, any aid at this time seems to have been vain; all that was possible was done by her own medical attendants. Her sickness gradually increased. On the 28th, she received the sacrament, and at that time could scarcely articulate, but her countenance had lost nothing of its accustomed calm and kindness. Alexander paid his last visit on this day at Malmaison, and at sight of him Josephine seemed to revive. The Prince Eugene on his knees near the bed, with his sister Hortense, received his mother's benediction. "At least," said Josephine, with an expiring voice, "I die regretted; I have always desired the happiness of France; I have done all that was in my power to contribute thereto, and I can say to you with truth, to all you who are present at my last moments, that the first wife of Napoleon has never occasioned any tears to be shed." Such wer the last words Josephine pronounced, and the next day, 29th May, 1814, at half-past eleven in the morning, all her sorrows terminated.'-p, 241.

At the conclusion of the volume there are a few letters which will be perused with considerable interest, rather on account of the distinguished characters to whom they relate than the matter which they contain. In concluding our remarks, we must say one thing respecting the style which the authoress has adopted; she has not indeed fallen into the sin of fine writing which is generally so fatal to authors of journals, memoirs, and travels. But her book is entirely devoid of that naiveté and simplicity which constitute the legitimate grace of narration. Still we can recommend the work on many accounts to our readers, and we feel assured that those who have found amusement in the former volume, will be much more gratified with the present.


Scenes of War; and other Poems. By John Malcolm. 24mo. pp. 191. 7s. Oliver and Boyd, Edin. burgh, 1828.

SCOTCH philosophers-lecturers at the Royal Society-authors of prize-essays at the University —and writers in 'The Athenæum,'-in one word all those persons, who are expected to furnish handfuls of reasons for every phenomenon which occurs in the world, that their hearers, readers, or sleepers may not complain of not having been allowed a choice, would be hardly driven to account for the circumstance, that soldier-poets should be as rare now as they were common in many periods of English and classical history. What can have divorced two pursuits, between which there is certainly no repugnancy,-between which, at one time, there seemed to exist something almost like sympathy? Is it because the age of chivalry is over? Alas! in the Persian and Samian war it had not begun. Is it gunpowder, then, the never-failing resource of hardrun speculators? That would be plausible, if one could only exterminate Surrey, and Sidney, and Essex, and Raleigh, and Cervantes out of history. Well, may it not be the disuse of heralds in declarations of war, which took place about the peace of Westphalia? Yes; that must be the reason, the disuse of heralds is evidently the differencing point between Eschylus and the Duke of Wellington.

to regard certain faults with a too jealous eye, because they are those which have most kept out of view the real essence of poetry, and have substituted the worst counterfeits for it; but, in indifaults ought to meet with great tolerance; for that vidual cases, we are willing to allow that these very frequeney which has made them so mischievavoid them. ous, has likewise made it exceedingly difficult to

These premises being settled, we are somewhat surprised that, without that ancient custom having been resumed, a gentleman should come forward to proclaim himself one of a class which ought, upon principle, to be extinct. Yet such a person is before us. Mr. John Malcolm asserts that he is a soldier; and to convince us of the fact, he has chosen, for the subject of the poems at the head of our article, the scenes with which, in his military capacity, he has been conversant. What are we to do? Shall we give up our theory? Perish the thought! Or shall we deny that Mr. Malcolm is a good soldier? That were impossible, for he has scars. Shall we then deny that he is a poet? That, indeed, is a tempting proposal to a critic, and we must consider of it.

We have considered, and we have generously decided in the negative. We will not deny that Mr. Malcolm is a poet-for we hope and trust he is one; and, did we not see one or two symptoms in his verse that are rather alarming, we should say very decidedly that he is one. The symptoms we allude too are a little too much carelessness (or else trouble, for opposite causes often produce similar effects) in the use of diction; a dangerous habit of running into the muses' shop, and buying a ready-made phrase, rather than stop to be measured for one, and too little caution even in the choice of these prepared articles, about their size and fitness. These things do, as we have said, somewhat frighten us, (being cowards not merely by instinct, but from reviewing experience) and make us hesitate in uttering the words that were just rising to our lips, that this gentleman is doctus utriusque linguæ-one who can express his meaning, and make impressions either with his sabre or pen; and who, as he has not feared Mahratta soldiers, must not fear English critics.

In spite of this fault, however, we do trust Mr. Malcolm has the root of the matter in him; he is evidently an amiable, right-hearted man, and such a man has, no doubt, a stock of thoughts which he will be able to pour forth into true poetry, if he will only forget that he is writing for any purpose but to express his thoughts, and will just take the plainest, most straightforward, soldier-like language, for the clothing of them.

The following passage, from a poem called 'Retrospective Musings,' is a fair specimen of Mr. Malcolm's writing; and, if our readers should think, upon perusing it, that we have not done full justice to him in our remarks, we shall be half in

"Tis eve, but on the mountain-head
No farewell sunny smile is shed;
The woodland choristers are gone,
The hermit-robin sings alone;
The waning beauty of the earth
To musings sadly sweet gives birth;
Recalling from the past again
Of thoughts a pale and pensive train,
And scenes that sun them in the rays
Reflected from departed days;
And in the mellowed radiance wear
A sainted aspect, sadly fair,

O'er which the tints of time have shed
The mournful beauty of the dead :
And there, while Memory wanders o'er
The regions of a lonely shore,
A moaning of the distant main
Is blending with my dreamy strain:
In dying sounds of softened tone,-
From music to its echo grown,
From far away come back on me
The torrent's mountain melody;
And faint and low the murmurs mild
Of streams that warble to the wild.

For there, beneath the evening-star, From home, and haunt, and man afar, Oft have my wandering footsteps sought The scenes that wakened solemn thought; But ever dearest seemed to me Companionship of the lone sea, Where, o'er the foam around them flung, The world's grey fragments frowning hung, Dim-shadowed in a misty shroud, Or hooded in the stooping cloud; Where Ocean, with a quire of waves, His anthem thundered through the caves, And rolled through Nature's vaulted piles Like organ's down cathedral aisles.


There, when the wintry storm was o'er, I loved to linger on the shore, And gaze upon the floating wreck On Ocean's breast, a darkening speck, And muse on its pale crew, who found No rest in earthly burial-ground; But sunk, perchance, 'mid tempest's roar, A thousand miles from every shore; Or on some night of fate and fear Went down when their sweet homes were near; And while around each native hearth Pealed songs of joys and sounds of mirth, Perchance arose from sea to sky Their shriek of mortal agony."Tis thus the rolling world doth run, One half in shade and one in sun; Thus some rejoice while others weep, And some must wake while others sleep. 'And oft upon the silent hill, While evening brooded bright and still, And shed a dying beauty o'er The beetling cliff and ruin hoar, I watched the snowy sails at rest Far off upon the billow's breast, And thought how blest the crews they bore To many a sweet and summer shore, And longed for that expected time When I should seek a brighter clime, And scenes that Fancy painted there Of dying saints as visions fair.Delusive were the happy dreams As those of childhood, when it deems That earth is circled by the eye, And wedded to the azure sky.

'When eve, of day and darkness born,
Paled like the spectre of the morn,
And from the hearth the blazing pile
Shed round the pictured wall its smile,
Whose silent dwellers there would seem
More life-like in the sportive beam,-
How sweetly then the cares of day
From weary bosoms past away,
While music's witching accents rung

Those strains that prompt the bosom's sigh,
Those magic airs that cannot die,
Eternal as the rocks that stand
The bulwarks of our native land,
Immortal as the feelings given
Unto the human heart by Heaven!


Oft, when on high the harvest-moon Rode clear and cloudless in her noon, We wandered onward with delight Beneath the cool and silent night, When not a frowning shade was there To dim the soft and azure air, But all was lustre pure and mild, A pale light o'er a pathless wild; When Silence slumbered on the hill, And lakes below lay bright and still, As at Creation's dawning morn They slept ere yet the winds were born; Reflecting mountain, rock, and tree, Fair as the good man's memory Gives back, ere life's last sun is set, Its scenes unclouded by regret.'-pp. 59-65.


Conspiration pour l'Egalité dite de Babeuf, suivie du procés auquel elle donna lieu, et des Pièces Justificatives, &c. &c. Par Ph. Buonarotti. Deux Tomes in 8vo. Bruxelles. A la Librairie Romantique. 1828.

[Concluded from page 930.]

THE political dogmas of that levelling sect, whose formation and proceedings we have sketched in a former Number, were identical with the most violent of those to which a moment's triumph had been given by the short and terrible reign of popular frenzy; and, indeed, are pretty much the same with those which are, at all times, most favourite with a certain class of morbid mock moralists, and with the coarser, if not more criminal disciples, who receive and 'better' their instructions. The civic order, which was finally resolved by Gracchus Babeuf and his patriot band of brothers, had received its finishing touches (in theory) in the mysterious atelier of a secret committee, which met at the house of Amar, Rue Cléry, to prepare an insurrection against the tyranny, of which the iron hand pressed hourly with more weight upon the neck of the French people.' In this political lyceum,' after laying bare the causes of the evils which afflict nations, they arrived at a clear insight into the principles of that social order which offered the strongest remedies and securities.

'Never,' it was observed, had the mass of the people attained to that degree of instruction and independence needful for the exercise of the public rights essential to its liberty, its safety, and its well-being. The wisest nations of antiquity had slaves who put them incessantly in peril; and, with the exception of the Peruvians, the inhabitants of Paraguay, and other imperfectly known tribes, never had civil society been able to discharge from its breast that imposthume of the commonwealth, that herd of men made miserable by the idea of advantages of which they are deprived, and of which they believe that others are in possession. Every where the multitude is bound beneath the rod of a despot, or of privileged classes. And, if we take a less extended range, we view the French nation enslaved, by the machinations of victorious egotism, to the possessors of inherited or acquired riches.

'The cause of these disorders was discovered in the inequality of fortunes and conditions, and was traced to its true origin in the institution of private property, by aid of which the most adroit or fortunate have despoiled, and still despoil, the helpless multitude, which, compelled to long and painful toils, ill fed, il clothed, and ill lodged; deprived of the enjoyments which it sees multiplied for the few, and undermined in physical and moral strength by misery, by ignorance, by envy, and despair,-sees nothing but hostile elements in society, and loses even the possibility of having a country.

"The history of the French revolution came to corroborate the reflections of the committee. It saw the class formerly rich, and that which had become so, assiduously engaged in securing their own pre-eminence; it saw ambitious pretensions ever marching in line with hatred of labour, and desire of riches; it saw the attachment of the people to their political

rights chilled in pron

aristocrats consisted in impoverishing, dividing, disgusting, terrifying, and keeping down the labouring class, of which they represent the remonstrances as

the most active cause of national disunion and decline.


Consequent on these observations was the conclusion, that the ever-fruitful origin of servitude in nations is social inequality, which, so long as it exists, must render almost illusory the exercise of their rights to a crowd of men which our civilization has sunk below the level of human nature.

"That to destroy this inequality was the task for a virtuous legislator, was the principle which resulted from the views of the committee, and how to accomplish this, became the subject of renewed deliberations.' Communauté des biens et des travaux was decided to be the true scope and ultimate perfection of society, the only public order capable of crushing oppression in every form, by rendering impossible the ravages of ambition, and of avarice, and by securing to every citizen the greatest possible portion of happiness.' It was decided in the committee, that no useful application of the laws of liberty and equality was possible, without a radical reform in the division of property.

Hitherto, says M. Buonarotti, we had confined ourselves to rallying and re-animating the

most active elements of revolution. It was now time to agitate the people of Paris.


losophers, and, above all, of the revolutionary leaders by whom their justice had already been recognised. Of this number were Robespierre, and his companions in martyrdom, who, in the eyes of those whose doctrine has been just explained, had clearly aimed at the equal distribution of rights and burthens. At the name of Robespierre, Amar, who, on the 9th Thermidor, had been one of his most violent persecutors, acknowledged his error, expressed his penitence, and only endeavoured to excuse himself by alleging the ignorance under which he had laboured with regard to the beneficent views of him whom he had aided to calumniate and to sacrifice.'

Thus baffled in their devout imagination of new fashioning religion on political principles, the ex-members of the Pantheon now determined to supersede the existing government by a secret Directory. This laudable design, however, not being of a nature to transgress with impunity the 'secrecy' of its title, was carried on by secret channels of communication with the populace of Paris, with the troops of the government (whom to seduce from their employers was one principal object,) and with the Republicans of Lyons, a small number, one wonld think, after the horrible extemities which their city had undergone beneath the Jacobin ascendancy. In developing these ideas, much was said of the phi- Peuple, the Eclaireur, and the Journal des Hommes The Tribun du Libres, were the avowed and published organs of the party. In addition to these, a quantity of ing sheets, placards, and pamphlets, were diffused throughout the country with incredible industry; counting the brood of anarchy before it was hatched, the secret' directors agreed that the populace of Paris, on whose habits of revolt they reckoned confidently, should nominate the provisional authority to which the government of the nation was to be trusted on the success of the intended insurrection. The new Government was to consist of a national assembly, composed of one democrat for each department of France; and the new revolution being completed, the secret directory was still to keep its seat, and to watch over the conduct of the national representative, as the Committee of Public Safety had done before it. The preparations were completed, the conspirators assembled, the day of insurrection fixed, and a member of the revolutionary committee had, under its clamation to the French people- Le peuple a dictation, written the first line of a provaincu, la tyrannie n'est plus, vous êtes libres-when his own freedom was unfortunately violated by the arrest of that tyranny which he was thus ceremoniously denouncing as having ceased to exist. The whole documents and proofs of the conspiracy were discovered at the house of Babeuf, who addressed from his prison an epistle to the Directory, in which he offered them terms with all the coolness of a demagogue at the head of an unsubdued and powerful party. pelled by an equally invincible fanaticism, his partisans, in the night of the 23d Fructidor, (August,) marched midnight, about 600 or 700 in number, to the camp of Grenelle, where they expected to be abetted in their projects on the rest of the troops by a battalion of the department of Gard, which, unfortunately for them, had been displaced from its station. Alarm was given, -the dragoons, half-naked, charged the insurgents, and military commissions finished afterwards the work which their sabres had not time after a summary trial, which they signalized by to complete. As for Babeuf and his accomplices, the boldness of their defence, and by singing the the two principal plotters (Babeuf and Darthe Marseilloise in chorus at the close of each sitting, received the sentence of death, which they vainly others, amongst whom was the author of these attempted to anticipate by suicide; and seven volumes, were transported to Cayenne.

Endeavouring to conciliate the publicity indispensable to our sittings with the regulations of police, and above all with the menagemens inculcated by prudence, we at length became convinced that our political doctrine being a rigorous deduction from the laws of nature, it was equally rational as easy to present it as

the code of the Divinity, that is to say, as the object

of natural religion.'

In fact, the practice of a worship which represents the Supreme Being as the Creator, as the Legislator, and the protector of equality, afforded the incalculable advantage of pleasing all who only hold Christianity for the sake of its morals,-all who reject Atheism while abhorring superstition. Besides, it was founded on the opinion of sages whom humanity reveres, and reasonings impossible to be refuted; it might become,

in the hands of reformers, a powerful lever for the erection of democratical institutions; it was the only legal method of addressing large assemblies of people.

'It was therefore resolved to appear in the public temples, under the title of deists, preaching exclusively the moral system of nature.

And in order to accustom the multitude to replace by new observances the ritual of the Catholic church, an object which the government itself was endeavouring to accomplish, by introducing fêtes décadaires, it was resolved to celebrate these festivals publicly, and to ask of the Directory a large church for the purpose.'

personal invectives launched against their own
body by the non-conforming club-men, as well as
seriously alarmed by their increasing numbers and
boldness, closed the Pantheon, as we narrated in
a former number. The suppresson of this, to
speak plainly, somewhat heathenish synod, was
entrusted to an officer, fated at no distant period
to effect the re-establishment of a more regular
hierarchy; and the club-law of the great Grac-
chus Babeuf rose in the scale against the sabre-
law of General Buonaparte.

The Directory, whose articles of faith, however liberal, were not exactly comprehensive enough to include the new church militant of Tribune Babeuf, returned a civil answer, that they themselves, anticipating the devotional propensities of the gentlemen of the Pantheon, were engaged at that moment in preparing the celebration of the decadary festival. The Pantheonists, thus placed in the position of dissenters from the national establishment, resolved to hire a temple,' and get up, without loss of time, a catechism and ritual of their system of nature. But by this time the Directory, not unnaturally jealous of this schismatical secession from their own church in embryo, and being scandalised moreover at the

The Life and Adventures of Alexander Selkirk; containing the real Incidents upon which the Romance of Robinson Crusoe is founded. By John Howell. 12mo, pp. 196. Oliver and Boyd. Edinburgh, 1829. also evidently a very meritorious man. He read MR. HOWELL, besides being a Scotchman, is Robinson Crusoe when he was a boy, and herein he differed not from many of his contemporaries; but the reading produced one effect upon ordinary men, and another upon Mr. Howell. He did not dream as we, or any body else might have done, about the scenery of Juan Fernandez, Friday, and so forth; nor did he conceive the intention of visiting Juan Fernandez, and procuring a footman with a cognomen derived from one of the days of the weeks; nor did he seclude himself from his family, and endeavour, so far as might be in a Scotch parish, where there is much butter-milk, and many things else that make glad the heart of man, to realize the discomforts of his hero's situation. His thoughts were of higher matters: he was resolved to find, not the paltry island which had been merely the theatre upon which been any other place not in the Pacific, but the Robinson had acted, and which might as well have very man himself, the identical Crusoe. For this fly-purpose, early one morning, in the year 1823, Mr. Howell journeyed forth in search of the parish of Largo, in which Robinson Crusoe, there better known by the name of Selkirk, first saw the light. Great were the rejoicings of Mr. Howell when he discovered his name entered at full length in the parish books: but there were yet happier days in reserve for him than this; the cups and the chest in which Alexander Selkirk had kept his tea were revealed to him, probably by some miraculous interposition; and not long after, an aged person connected with this world, we believe, though that point is left in some mystery, who knew some stories-not very good ones, but that signified but little-of the wanderer. Two years passed over the head of Mr. Howell, and the end of them still found him an unquiet man, for as yet the character of Robinson had obtained but little elucidation from his labours. But now was coming the crowning joy of his existence. Mr. Howell, while walking to and fro in search of facts, met with a great-grand-nephew of the adventurer. This apparition, we confess, would have overpowered us; we could not have apun-proached such a being for the world; the departed Robinson is almost a too insupportably living creature for us, but an actual bodily great-grandnephew of his would have completely upset us. Mr. Howell, however, is very bold man. He not only came near the man, but literally (we almost tremble while we repeat his words) made his Im-acquaintance, and found him, strange to sa a very pious, humble sort of man. From him. Howell learnt much; but his insatiable love of truth, as he rightly calls it, caused him to hunger for more. After reading files of all the English periodicals, looking through most of the newspapers published in the last century, diving into MSS., reading through folios, he at last succeeded in collecting the facts that he deemed necessary for a life of Selkirk, and thus, having first committed this very entertaining little volume into the hands of the printers, he reposed from His first feats are thus described: his labours. Alexander was a sadly unruly boy.

'When the accounts reached Scotland of the Revolu

clergy, who were in general much disliked by their tion, and of the expulsion of the Stuarts, the complying churches with tumult and reproaches. In no part of parishoners, were in many places turned out of their Scotland was more zeal shown at this time for the

non-complying ministers than at Largo. On the first Sabbath-day, the people assembled in the churchyard, with such arms as they could muster, to resist the clergyman's entry into the church to do the duties of Alexander's eldest brother, John, was

his office.

ringleader, and Alexander himself, though only thirteen years of age, flourished his bludgen by his side. But no attempt was made to resist the mob and their

Want of space forbids us to translate for our readers the farewell letter of the Tribune to his wife and sons, Emilius, Camillus, and Caius, beginning Bon soir, mes amis: Je suis prêt à n'envelopper dans la nuit éternelle.


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