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“ His words convey some deep, though unexplained, in “ Guiscard surrenders himself to save his country. Os rest in her, and he pauses as she approaches. Matilda myn accepts the sacrifice, and determines to bear him away ters, sees Osmyn, and recoils in terror. Finding that she as a slave. Hating him as the supposed son of Manfred, he es not recognise him, he falls at her feet in an agony of admires his heroism, and addresses him as follows: spair. “Act the third discovers Osmyn, still in the ruined cathe
I've sought thy ruin, have o'erthrown thy power, ral, recovering from his trance; he resolves to spare Sa
Have flung thee captive into bonds of iron, rno on conditions, and dispatches officers to summon the
Yet there is here a nameless wandering feelinghristian leaders to his presence. He then discloses to Syn
I know not how to utter it-to image itarac, a faithful adherent, the circuinstances of his past life.
I came to curse thee like the prophet old wenty years before, he was Guiscard, Prince of Salerno,
Like him, o'erruled by a supernal power, nd the husband of Matilda. Manfred, a neighbouring
Lo! I return to bless thee-be thou bless'd ! tentate, seized his territory, and plunged him in a duncon, where he was supposed to die of famine. A slave fur Men shall speak of us in the after ages ; ished him with the means of life: after six years of cap Thus will they say of thee: He was a star vity, his dungeon is rent by an earthquake, and he escapes ; That sailid on smiling through the deeps of Heaven, o one knows him, and he wanders through the city unre Mocking all clouds-whose brightness was within. ognised. One day, on a solemn festival, he sees Matilda Thus will they say of me: He was a meteor, ome in triumph, attended by shouting multitudes, acknow On whose dread light pale faces doubtful gazed, dged as the wife of Manfred, and with a child, whom she As he swept on his path of desolation, alls on the people to protect, as the son of his enemy. Con Glorious shall be thy light, and bright thy settinginced of her perfidy, he flies, abjures the Christian faith, My track is terror and my end is darkness.' [Erit. nd, as Osmyn the renegade, after an absence of many years, eturns to gratify his long-delayed vengeance. The follow
“ Matilda rushes in as Guiscard is on the point of being ng passages, taken from this scene, are among the most stri- carried away in bondage, and declares that a secret in her king and poetical in the play:
possession will release him from the hatred of Osmyn, to
whom she demands to be conducted. The fourth Act opens “There is a choking agony
with the most touching, and the most dramatic, scene in When the heart's torture labours for confession,
the play, between Osmyn and Matilda. In the course of Even though confession's torture; and we tell
this interview, she proves her fidelity to her first and only To friend or foe-or stranger-or the winds
husband, and that her acknowledging herself the wife of That which they mock at, all alike—and feel
Manfred, after his death, was a subterfuge, to save the life Their mockery as a respite to the pang
of Guiscard, her son, and to secure for him his just succesThat rent us ere disclosure-Listeu to me,
sion to the sovereignty of Salerno. Osmyn can no longer
command his feelings, but discovers himself to Matilda. Oh! when the tide of ruin swept my towers,
This passage is extremely beautiful : Whom did I grasp at in the wreck ?—that woman!
• Osmyn. Wouldst thou behold thy husband ? Whom did my last appealing groan invoke ?
Matilda. My husband ? Whom did my bursting eyeballs strain to see
Osmyn. Ay—the husband of thy youth. (Would they had burst)-whom did the blood I shed Him long deem'd dead amid the vaults we tread on Drench to her shrinking bosom ?-that-that woman! Darest thou see him ? He wore no turban onceThey seized me when I could no longer strive
The glow of youth was on his cheek – 'tis faded ; They planged me in a dungeon of these towers –
The light of hope was on his brow—'tis quench'd ; I cannot tell my dungeon agonies
The strength of' hosts was in his arm-it trembles Nortime-por space was there-nor day-nor midnight Trembles to lift this veil—this was thy husband. I knew not that I lived -- but felt I suffered
Matilda. Risen from the dead! Away, and save thy Synd. Didst thou not live for vengeance?
son ! Osmyn. No; I lived for her
Osmyn. The son of Manfred mine? Amidst those horrors lived for her alone
Matilda. Talk not, but save him. He is thy son.' She was the moonbeam of my maniac cell, That, lighting me to madness, still was light.
“ Osmyn dispatches his signet to Bentaleb, with orders
to surrender his prisoner. Bentaleb refuses obedience I look'd on her, as on his banish'd heaven
excites the troops to mutiny-seizes Osmyn as a traitor, and The apostate look'd in his despair-and fled.'
plunges him in a dungeon. The fifth Act is short, but con
tains quite enough of incident to sustain the tragic interest . In the next scene, Osmyn receives the Christian depu- of the piece. Guiscard is released by Syndarac; the Chris tation in his camp, surrounded by his troops ; Bentaleb, tians overthrow the Turks; Bentaleb, though foiled, seizes another Turkish
leader, urges him to show them no mercy a moment in which he effects the murder of Osmyn, who -Osmyn replies as follows :
dies repentant in the arms of his wife and son.
“ From the passages we have quoted, our readers will • Osmyn. They're wrong'd thee, then?
perceive that the poetry is characterised by all the pecuBentaleb. They're Christians, and I hate them.
siarities of Maturin's genius. Both on the stage and in the Osmyn. And thou hast wondrous reason-mighty closet, Osıyn will add to the reputation of the author, and
its production on our national boards is highly creditable to A helmet hides their heads - a turban thine
all parties concerned. Maturin and Knowles, both IrishAnd when ye mutter o'er your heartless prayers,
men, have produced the most successful modern tragedies. They bend them to the East, and thou to Mecca. Both are entitled to a high place in the list of dramatio 'Tis reason strong and just as e'er
authors--opposite in style, but kindred in genius. The Distorted conscience gives to evil passions.
writing of Knowles is distinguished by strength and simThou art a fool in vengeance-a blunt fool,
plicity that of Maturin, by gorgeous ornament and splenWho knows the weight a fleshy frame can bear,
did figures. Knowles was more fortunate in his selection And lays it on with strong anpitying hand,
of subjects. Virginius and William Tell are hallowed in But forms no exquisite engine for the soul.
our memories by long and fond associations. The story of Canst thou, o'erlooking matter's paltry pangs,
each strikes home to every heart; the incidents belong to Forge agonies for the heart of man within him?
the situations, and every one can feel their truth and proBend down the viewless and impalpable spirit,
bability. The more romantic imagination of Maturin To writhe in tortures body never felt?
searches among the dark and stormy recesses of the human Thy vulgar cruelty, thou fool in torture,
soul, and produces scenes of guilt and agony, and characters Cries out -I hate thee, and will kill thee;-mine
of terrible passion and energy, more powerful and appalling, Exclaims I hate thee far too much to kill thee.
but less natural and affecting. They command, perhaps, If thou wouldst make man wretched, make him vile, our admiration, rather than our sympathy-our wonder, Sear up his conscience, make his mind a desert,
rather than our tears.
FIRE-SIDE ENJOYMENTS. Chronicles of a School Room. By Mrs S. C. Hall, Editor “ I dearly love what may be called tire-side enjoyments.
of “ The Juvenile Forget-Me-Not.” London. Westley Music ! yes, it decidedly is, or ought to be, one; and a and Davis. 1830. 12mo. Pp. 213.
young lady employed in the exercise of that exquisite takot,
for the purpose of soothing or enlivening the dear bog This publication alone, were all her previous efforts ob- circle, is ever an object of interest and affection. How deliterated, would elevate Mrs Hall to the first rank as an
licious are some of our sweet ballads sung in the soft twi. elegant and delightful instructress of youth. If we place light,-papa and mainma tranquilly listening to the well
. her second to Miss Edgeworth, we certainly think she is remembered notes of The Winter it is past,' . The Birke
of Endermay, or the thrilling combination of sense and pressing close upon that lady's footsteps, and is second to sound in the - Exile ef Erin,' and then blessing God fur no one else. We hold her already superior to ber friend, having given them an unspotted child, who, though it may Mrs Hofland, to whom she has dedicated her present vo be rich, and young, and beautiful, derives more delight lume. Besides the information which they convey, and
from their approval, than from the applause of the gay and
brilliant. the fine moral lessons they inculcate, there is a warmth, a sincerity, an enthusiasm, an Irishness about Mrs Hall's draw the curtains, the circular table a little nearer the fire ;
“ Books !—what pleasure do they not impart? Quickwritings, admirably calculated to win the youthful mind. Emily, the dear little Emily, on her own particular stood at It is impossible for any young lady, from ten to twenty, mamina’s feet, her fine doll in her lap, which she is stealthily to read the Tales composing the “Chronicles of a School- undressing, lest papa should be shocked at seeing it en robe room,” without being made wiser and better, without ha- de nuit ; Martha, the good-natured Martha, arranging sotne ving her heart softened, and her dispositions improved. flowers in her hortus siccus; Rebecca, the sage, the wise young The tales are supposed to be told to the authoress by a
woman of the family, pondering over The Foreign Review, pleasant elderly lady, called Mrs Ashburton, who had wood," or my especial favourite, · The British Magazine ;
or the last ' Quarterly,' or the sound yet laughing Blacklong kept a boarding school of the highest character in the neighbourhood of Little Hampton, a village in Sussex. invented receptacle of torn clothes, sighing over portions
mamma investigating the contents of a • Tidy,' that newly There are seven stories, and they are entitled “ Marie de of the dilapidated wardrobe of seven children; papa turning Jariot,”
;" “ Millicent O'Brian,” “ Sweet May Douglas," the leaves of a musty folio, the stock-book of the household “ The Two Indians,” “ The Painter's Sister,” « Zillah for various purposes; while Alfred, the eldest hope of the Penrose,” and “ The Deaf and Blind.” We love all these, family, stretches his feet on Pompey's silky coat, and terra but the three last are special favourites with us. Of course
over and over an aged newspaper, from which (silly fellow) the heroine of each narrative is one of the young ladies, fancy such a scene, in a country mansion, some ferty or
he knows he can derive no information. Genue reader! who had been placed under Mrs Ashburton's care; and sixty miles from London, at the begivning of November; we are thus presented with a succession of beautiful por- and fancy, also, old Daniel, or old Joseph, or old Samuel traits, each distinct in itself, yet each more attractive than any old servant will do-entering, with a parcel, a Londen another. The tender interest attached to the French lady parcel of books! Just fancy the delight such an event must Marie de Jariot, is finely relieved by the still higher for- occasion to such a party, who are all, with the exception of titude and happier fate of Millicent O'Brian. The merry does not think at all, somewhat book-wormish ; how chari
inamma, who has too much to think of, and Emily, wba and sweet May Douglas, transplanted into the richness ing! A parcel containing the best of Colburn's publics of England, from her father's castle, far away among the tions, for those senjors of the party who ought to know buw Higbland hills, dances before us like one of her own the proceedings of the literary world are conducted; books harebells in the light and dew of a summer morning. from Westley and Davis, fit for the Sabbath and the serie Nor are the two Indian maidens less interesting, with ous; and such charming pretty-looking things from Hailes their magnificent black eyes, and glorious features, tell
and Harris, as make even Emily forget her doll. A heap ing of remote intermarriages among the princes of the
of delightful Annuals for those who love pretty pictures and Eastern land ; nor the Painter's Sister, that pale and de- during the winter evenings, when out of doors the suos is
rational amusements. How much are we indebted to them licate girl, with a face to which genius lent its own pe- | deep and the wind piercing ! culiar beauty, and an undying affection and admiration “ I might say, and with truth too, that, for very little masfor the brother of her childhood, the friend and com ters and misses, a quiet game of blindman's-buff is season panion of her riper years ; nor Zillah Penrose, the able at Christmas time, particularly when a steady person Quaker's daughter, shutting up in the recesses of her is present to call fire' and prevent inischief; though I al. own bosom an enduring treasure of meekness, patience,
most fear that to express such an opinion is likely to bring gentleness, and lofty mental firmness, which yields smart juvenile gentlemen who come under the denomination
me into disrepute with the youög élégantes, and those very not even to the terrors of the storm upon the mighty of little dandies-troublesome monkeys! I could better, by deep ;—nor Clara and Anna Damer, sisters in beauty, a thousand times, endure a good romping boy, than a midand sisters in affiction, the one blind and the other deaf, cing, finikin, perking, bowing, simpering Jemmy Jessamy, yet both capable of adorning and enjoying life, and of with kidded bands, perfumed handkerchief, and empty winning for themselves a purer inheritance, where all head. But I am sure all little creatures, roly-polys under films will pass away from the eyes, and Hoods of music sight, will forgive me, ay, and love me tov, for tolerating 'swell upon the ear.
blindman's-buff. It is delightful to dwell, though but for a few hours, among creations such as these, for gentlewomanly amusement, and ought not to be neglected,
“ I am sorry that needlework goes out of fashion; it is a there is something in the very atmosphere in which they particularly by those who have many brothers and sisters, move, that refines the grosser spirit, and purges away and whose parents are not rich. Many girls, I am serty the impurities contracted by an intercourse with the sel to say, despise their needle, and affect to tbink work imbi fish world.
occupation for genteel or intellectual beings. I both grieve Nor are the tales the only attraction of this excellent for, and am angry with, such misses. I can tell them, that little volume. They are interwoven with much useful many of our high-born noble ladies employ their fingers in information and instructive discourse.
framing clothes for the poor and desolate widows and op
We are present phans of our distressed country. And I can also tell them ed, for example, in one place, with some pleasant anec that the sensible and instructive Hofland, the playful and dotes, illustrative of the habits of the birds; in another, bigbly-gifted Mitford, ay, and even the graceful and etewith sea-side meditations, and a few glimpses into the gant Landon, think it no disgrace to form themselves the science of Conchology; in a third, with remarks on Bo- garbs in which they are always fascinating, because alwayı tany, and so on throughout . As we cannot afford space for cupations is, that the mind can be engaged, either in bear
One advantage of the generality of female any of the separate stories, we must be contented with an ing or reflecting, when the fingers are employed in pluin extract of a different nature, which, though it conveys no notion of the merits of the “ Chronicles,” will afford ful than a party enlivened by alternate reading and must
work, or even in embroidering; and nothing is more delightsome idea of Mrs Hall's lively and agreeable style. We where the greater number are not too fine to be industrimay entitle the passage
We earnestly recommend this volume to the attention rived just at the time when Preciosa was about to take of all parents, guardians, and teachers, who are anxious the veil, and retire from the world for ever: Impressed for the moral culture of the female part of their charge, with the solemnity of the ceremony, a sudden stupor for the growth of those graces which pass not away, seized our heroine, and she fell motionless at the foot of ssbich charm in this life, and prepare the way for a the marble pillar. They raised her up; they bathed better.
her pale and lovely face,--lovely even in death; but it
would not do,-it would not do! With that last strain Gertrude ; a Tale of the 16th Century. 2 vols. London. of harmony the immortal soul had fled for ever.” Such Colburn and Bentley. 1830.
is a brief outline of the incidents upon which the story
of Gertrude is founded. The reign of Henry the Third is one of the periods in We may now present our readers with a specimen or French History which abounds in incidents well calcula- two of the style of the fair authoress of Gertrude. The ted for the purposes of the novelist. The character of massacre of St Bartholomew took place, August 24, 1572, the reigning Prince was a strange compound of levity, during the reign of Charles IX. The following is a folly, and vice. Surrounded by a young and thoughtless graphic and interesting description of that direful catasnobility, and abandoned to all the effeminacy of a court, trophe : he augmented, says Millot, the scandal of his manners,
TUE MASSACRE OF ST BARTHOLOMEW. par les grimaces de devotion.” The Protestants and
« For six days the massacre of St Bartholomew had con, Catholics were at this time striving for the ascendancy, tinued in Paris. Five hundred noblemen perished, with and France was in a state of perpetual agitation, to the many thousand persons of every sex and age, from the incontinuance of which the ambitious spirit of Catherine fant on its nurse's breast, to the grey-haired old man, who, de Medicis pot a little contributed.
standing on the brink of the grave, was hurried into it. It is to this period, so fertile in events, that the tale of For virtue, science, religion, beauty, no claim was heard ;
no pity was shown. Almost every province in the kingGertrude relates. Gertrude was the daughter of Count dom followed the example of the capital; and, during the Guy of Frontenaye, in Provence. During the troubles whole of September, France was divided into two parties, which followed the massacre of St Bartholomew, the fa- executioners and victims. The names of the King of Navarre, mily to which Gertrude belonged was destroyed by a band and of his cousin, the Prince of Condé, were, after much of villains, enemies to the Huguenots. For some time deliberation, effaced from the list of those distinguished vicafter this catastrophe Gertrude lived in a retired manner, tims, who were marked for slaughter by Queen Catherine until a party of the Royal Family happened to pass near de Medicis: that of the King of Navarre principally on acher residence. Among this party was Duke Beaumont, which he had contracted with his sister ; while the Prince
count of his relationship to the King, and of the alliance King of Navarre. His heart was touched at the sight of of Condé was saved through the interest of the Duke of the ** Violet of Provence," as she was termed ; and he Nevers, who became surety for his tidelity and submission. soon afterwards sought her dwelling again in the charac- We are told that King Charles looked from the windows of ter of a wandering Troubadour. Having ingratiated the Louvre, and seeing that the sun shone brightly, obserbimself into her favour, he disclosed to her his real name
ved that the weather itself was rejoicing at the murder of and rank, and, induced by his importunities, together
the Huguenots. As if Heaven had heard the infamous
With with the repeated invitations of the Duchess of Vouba- remark, the sky became clouded, and a storm arose.
a glance of horrid satisfaction, the monarch strained his zon, Gertrude left the castle of Frontenaye, and set out
eyes over the scene wbicha presented itself before him. Minfor Paris, to accept of the office of maid of honour to gled with the thunders, arose the blasphemous voices of Madam Catherine, the sister of Henry of Navarre. Our the murderers, traversing the city like denons unchained heroine bore a distinguished part in all the balls and fes- before their time the continual tiring of arquebusses and tivities which took place at the junction of the two courts pistols, each sound of which gave signal that an immortal of France and Navarre. She surpassed in beauty all the soul had taken its flight to another realm—the lamentable
cries of those who in vain endeavoured to escape-the groans other ladies, and her accomplishments did not fail to en
of the dying wretches whose bodies were thrown from the gage the attention of even Catherine de Medicis. It was windows, or dragged through the dust with savage yells of amid the splendours and gaieties of the fashionable circle, triumph, while showers of stones were levelled against the that the affection of the Duke for Gertrude increased so doors and wiudows, and six hundred houses given up to much, that he proposed to divorce his own wife, Mar- plunder. In the evening of St Bartholomew's day, the guerite of Valois, in order to make way for Gertrude. King, followed by bis brothers, by the three Queens and Her regard for the Duke was equally sincere, and she their ladies, and by all his court, went to the Cimetrière would probably have become the wife of the future King somed that day, was regarded as a prodigy. On their re
des Innocents,' to see a honeysuckle, which, having blosof France, bad not prudence seemed to oppose the alli
turn homeward, they walked gaily through rows of dead She was advised by her friends to abandon all bodies, and the next day repaired to mass in soleinn prothoughts of it, both on account of the vast difference in cession, to render thanks to God for the success. History point of rank, and also from the envy and hatred which does not record that any voice faltered while singing this such a union would excite among the different members | Te Deum ; but, from the hour of Coligny's death, sleep of the court. This prudent Counsel, after a severe struggle, refused to visit the eyelids of the French King. Surfeited Gertrude followed. The court was soon afterwards forth their hands, saying, 'It is enough;' and a short calm
with human blood, the royal assassins at length stretched transferred to the castle of Pau, in Bearne. During succeeded this frightful hurricane. According to Perèfixe, the war with the Huguenots, Catherine here beguiled a hundred thousand people perished. Execrable action !' the time by numerous fetes and amusements. It was he adds, ' which never has had, and, please God, never will after one of these pastimes that the Princess and Ger- have, any parallel.'' trude, wandering through a wood near the river Adau, Among the numerous mignons, or favourites of the were rescued by a stranger from the attack of a ferocious King of France, there was one Monsieur de Balzac, who bar. The stranger, known by the name of “ Le beau had lately returned from his travels in Scotland. The Chevalier Anglais," was Lord de Gray, an Englishman following passage, in which the coxcomb gives an account by birth. He had left his native country at an early of what he had seen, is amusing : age, and had entered the army as a simple volunteer. “Give us an account of your travels, Monsieur de BalGertrude felt grateful to her deliverer, and he fell in love zac?' said Madame Catherine. with her ; but a certain prophetic presentiment of the lisped the favourite
, * as if a few minutes would suffice to
« • Beshrew me, if your Highness be not too severe,' shortness of her existence brooded over the feeling mind relate the dangers and adventures which I have gone through, of Gertrude. Nothing could induce her to marry Lord since the hour when an evil genius first tempted me to visit de Gray.
Oppressed by a religious melancholy, she that accursed land, where I have scarce escaped starving, retired to the convent of her friend Preciosa, and ar- drowning, and every manner of privation; their wine is
wretched, their pastry uneatable the men are ruffiansthe women unmannered, dowdy savages! If your Highness Hoyle made Familiar, with the Rules of Practice
. By will believe me, I breakfasted with the Countess of Mar,
Eidrah Trebor, Esq. Edinburgh. Stirling and Kenney. or rather saw her breakfast, upon a chine of beef and a gal 1830. Pp. 106. 32mo. lon of ale!
Having examined this neat and comprehensive trea. “ The ladies expressed due horror at this enormity. “* And not a drop of cool claret,' continued de Balzac, tise, on no less than thirty different games of cards, with ' 'pon honour! not the smallest possibility of getting one's considerable care, we are free to state, that it is written ruff properly starched. That I have escaped alive is next with both accuracy and judgment. Of the editor, horrto a miracle. By the mass ! I have been forced to tighten ever, we know nothing; and being somewhat curious in my girdle by two inches.' %. And their town of Edinburgh?' said the Queen-mo- the family of Eidrah Trebor, Esq. At length we hit
genealogical pursuits, we were rather anxious to ascertain ther.
“ • Dull as a provincial town, 'fore Gad,' replied he; upon the expedient of reading the letters backwards, and nothing going on every thing in confusion.
found them to make Robert Hardie—the same patronymic creature called Knox, thundering in every body's ears against as that of the ingenious printer of the book. This is a the abominations of Popery.. Coarse "rustics, with lank discovery which none but an editor of first-rate talent could hair, and shining faces, listening with wonder to his tire- have made, yet we shrewdly suspect that Mr Hardie has some shouting. I paid my devoirs to the Regent Mur- received important assistance from some practised hand, ray, and he asked me to dinner.. By my lady! I went and that there has been an imperium in imperio. The work with an appetite, but the sight of his unsavoury viands was more than sufficient. A house trumpet, the sound of which rejects all games not played with cards ; but comprises nearly annihilated me, summoned us to the banquet. I was distinct rules and instructions for playing many gaines, placed next to a hideous hairy savage, called Lord Ruton, directions for which were hitherto to be obtained only or Ruthven, or some such name. I merely intended to hint in separate treatises. The editor explains his object more to him that his ruff was scarce sufficiently stiff, and beshrew specifically in the following preface : me, if he did not grin upon me after the fashion of a hye
“ The very high reputation which Hoyle's Games have na !—But I pray you, ladies, question me no more; it irks deservedly maintained for nearly a century, has led to inme to think of it.
numerable editions of his treatises—all, as the phrase is, Throughout this novel, we meet with many pleasing revised, corrected, much improved, and considerably enand interesting passages, not unfrequently reminding us larged.' But it seems to have escaped the observation of of the touching pathos which pervades the beautiful story his numerous editors, that Hoyle wrote for those who were of Louisa Venoni, by the Man of Feeling.
previously in some measure acquainted with the mode of In this age, when every intellectual pursuit seems to playing the various games of which he treats, and that his be tending to extravagance and excess,—“ when,” in the than to instruct the wholly uninstructed. In this edition,
work was intended rather to enlighten the already instructed, language of Johnson, “ the rage of writing has seized the
an attempt has been made successfully, it is confidently old and the young, when the cook warbles her lyrics in hoped—to incorpo the • Reading-made-easy' with the the kitchen, and the thresher vociferates his heroics in the Grammar' and Philosophy of cards ;-in other words, to barn; when our traders deal out knowledge in bulky vo give such a plain and perspicuous description of each game, lumes, and our girls forsake their samplers to teach king- from the cutting for deal to scoring the last point, as will doms wisdom," it is pleasant to meet with so chaste and enable the person who never saw a pack of cards, by peru
sing the three or four prefatory pages, and the treatise on the simple a production as Gertrude.
game he wishes to acquire a knowledge of, to understand
its principles, and, with a little practice, to play it well. A The Fortunes of Francesco Novello de Carrara, Lord of number
of new games, never before published, have been inPadua, an Xistorical Tale of the Fourteenth Century; tioned, the fashionable game of Ecarté, freely translated
serted in the present edition, among which may be men. from the Chronicles of Gataro, with Notes. By David from the French treatise, with Catch the Ten,' or Scotch Syme, Esq. Edinburgh. Constable and Co. 1830. Whist, and the Irish game of . Five and Ten;' besides se 8vo, pp. 257.
veral new Round Games, and varieties of some of the old We have read this work with much pleasure. It contains a faithful and vivid picture of the manners of the
This work is adorned with a frontispiece, very neatly Italians in the fourteenth century. Gataro, the princi- engraved by Lizars, but from a most ungallant design by pal historian of the House of Carrara, possesses a style J. Stewart, from the land of the West. An elderly per. full of simple eloquence and natural vivacity; and is for-son-evidently a gourmand," with spectacles on's nose, tunate in having for his subject the vicissitudes of an an- and “in fair round belly, with good capon lined,"—the cient and noble family, whose successes and power, 80
very image of Mathews in the character of Mr Wiggans. constantly alternated with harassing sufferings and hair is represented at table with a “ Bold Dragoon" for his breadth escapes, and finally ending in a very sad and partuer, and with tricks before each of them! whilst the bloody tragedy, afford materials for the chronicler almost are opposed in the game by two ladies—spinsters as part as interesting as could be found in any work of fiction. ners ! Mr Stewart should have recollected that Shak In reading Gataro, we are not unfrequently reminded of speare says, Froissart, and he interests us alınost as much in the “Two women placed together, always make cold weather.' principality of Padua, as the French historian does in the affairs of his own nation. We had intended to have
This treatise carries with it, besides our recommenda presented our readers with a more elaborate analysis of tion, the virtues of being neatly printed, handsomely co this work, and some extracts from it; but as we find vered, and moderately priced ; whilst its size is adapte that its interest mainly depends upon its continuity, either for a lady's reticule, or the waistcoat pocket of we prefer simply recommending it to those who enjoy a gentleman. It would be well were a copy of the boo peep into the stirring events of the past. Mr Syme, the laid on every card-table, along with the cards; for translator, or rather the compiler, has executed' his task may safely be taken as an umpire in all companies, o with great judgment. “ As the excessive prolixity,” he disputed points. says, “ of honest Gataro bas with justice been complain. ed of, I have melted down the original narrative, and re-cast it in a smaller mould, preserving as much as pos
FINE Arts.- Landscape Illustrations of the Warerli sible the fashion of the old workmanship.” Mr Syme
Novels. Engraved by William and Edward Finder has also given some explanatory extracts in the shape of
Part I. London : Charles Tilt. Edinburgh : Thomi
Ireland. 1830. an Introduction, and has added a number of useful notes. The work altogether indicates the hand of a scholar, and Judging by the present specimen, this promises to 1 will be read by scholars with much satisfaction.
a beautiful and interesting work. “ From the nuincro
Historical Illustrations," say the conductors, “ which to witness his parting with his comrades, and then with jave appeared to embellish the Novels of the Author of Susan, without being melted almost to tears. But all this, Waverley, it is matter of surprise that no attempt has yet as we said before, is entirely done by T. P. Cooke, and the hen made to convey an idea of the scenery, wbich, beau- effect is feeble to what it might have been had the compoiful in itself, has been rendered doubly interesting by the sition of the drama been entrusted to an abler pen,-to Jescriptions of the distinguished author. To supply this Cooper, for example, the American novelist, who can teficiency is the object of the present undertaking.” A put his hand upon the ocean's mane, and vault upon its number of distinguished artists have been engaged to fur- back, and sway it to his will. Long Tom Coffin and Fid Tish drawings; and those views will be selected which are sailors worth seeing ; but the sailors of Douglas erhave been dwelt on with admiration by Sir Walter him- rold are diluted into the insipidity of five-water-grog. elf. The work is to be published in parts, each contain T. P. Cooke's motto may well be, ng four plates, of a size to bind up with the new edition
“ Nothing in him of the Waverley Novels, but the impressions are also taken
But doth suffer a sea-change." off on paper sufficiently large for any of the collected edi. tions. Part first, comprises views of Arran, of Doune His ordinary melo-dramatic performances are middling Castle, of Penrith, and of Windermere, illustrative of pas- enough, for whenever he tries to look like the brigand or sages in the “ Heart of Mid-Lothian,” “ Waverley," and the hero, be is sure to look a thousand times more like the * Gay Mannering." All these are finely executed, and coxswain or the boatswain's mate. Even when he plays are a good augury of the success of the work.
the Monster in “ Frankenstein,” we oftentimes fancy we
see him chewing his quid, and whenever he turns his Mercator and Felix. By John M'Cay, Member of the back, we invariably look for his pigtail. Could the blue Royal Physical Society of Edinburgh., Edinburgh, would strike up, “ Bound 'prentice to a waterman;" and
apparition sing, we never doubt for a moment that he MacLachlan and Stewart. 1830. Stitched. Pp. 23.
were it consistent with the creature's dignity to dance, you This is a neat and classically-written brochure, illus- may rest assured that it would be an “admired naval borntrating and inculcating the fact, that wealth is neither the pipe.” Mr Cooke's range is therefore limited, but he is surest nor the best road to happiness.
on that account only the more natural. Was there ever a more limited being in point of character than a genuine
tar? His whole being is adapted to the range of the THE DRAMA.
wooden walls within which he lives. He moves as they We have seen T. P. Cooke in the redoubted drama of move; he rocks up and down as they rock; he is buffeted " Black-eyed Susan," to have a peep at which the Cock- by the winds and splashed by the waves as they are; if neys squeezed themselves to death for a hundred nights. they go gaily on their course, so does be; if they founder The acting of T. P. is, of course, excellent; but in so far at sen, Jack for a certainty founders too. He knows the as the writing is concerned, the piece is grcatly below par. technical terms of his own art, and, in all other respects, It wants the true sen smell; it savours too much of language is to him a mystery. He knows a little of the Wapping and Grub-street. One may discover pretty very outskirts of the earth, as it were—the very rim—but easily, that though the author may have more than once the ocean is his home; he is happier on its bosom than taken a wherry at Blackfriar's Bridge, he has never wea- the sea-bird. Now, how could T. P. Cooke— we like thered a storm in the Bay of Biscay. His nautical the letters T. P., they distinguish him—be a good sailor phrases bave been culled froin books, not picked up on were he a good actor of other parts? The thing is an the forecastle. Although entitled a “ Nautical drama,” absurdity; when was a sailor an actor? T. P. is not an there is not a single really nautical character in the whole actor; he is a sailor--every inch of him, “all as one as a piece except William, and, if we are not much mistaken, bit of the ship.” It is as good as a long voyage to see him T. P. Cooke has, in a great measure, made that for him for a night or two now and then. The Theatre becomes self. There never was a set of more complete nonde a seventy-four, and, if rightly rigged, its sky-scrapers, scripts than Doggrass, Gnatbrain, Jacob Twig, Blue Peter, and mood-rakers, ay, and even its grog-stopper, should be Raker, and Hatchet. The three last look, speak, and act distinctly seen from the Register Office ; whilst the ladies just as like coal-heavers as sailors; and were it not that in the captain's cabin below may thank their stars if they Stanley contrives to give to the part of Gnatbrain a are not all pitched out of their berths by a sudden lurch. bumour which the author never foresaw, the whole set If the wind be fair, heaven only knows in what part of would be as stupid as a score of marines riding at anchor the world the people in the hold may find themselves in a wet night. The truth is, that this piece is indebted when they expect to step out at the pit door, and walk to Gay, the author of the fine ballad of “ Black-eyed quietly home to their own houses. As for the Captain Susan,” for its principal attraction. His William and himself, William Henry Murray, we have no doubt Susan are two persons who have taken a hold of the po- he always makes it a rule to keep a good look-out a-head; pular feeling, and whom many a long association has and when he has T. P. Cooke at the helm, he need be now endeared to us. All that Mr Douglas Jerrold has under no apprehension. done, is to add a few vulgar excrescences to the far more
Old Cerberus. simple and elegant production of the poet. Had he entrusted his hero to any other actor than T. P. Cooke, the whole thing would have been forgotten in a week.
ORIGINAL POETRY. As it is, the veriest booby sees at once that it is to the genias of the performer, not of the author, that he is in. THOUGHTS ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND. debted for the enjoyment he receives. Cooke rejects al
Ah! sir, the good die first, together many of the flimsy sentimentalities which Cock. And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust
Burn to the socket!
WORDSWORTH. ney scribblers are too apt to put into the mouths of sailors; he softens down others, or rather braces them up There came no vision girt with glorious pomp; into a manly vigour; and he does all he can, and what No seraph stood reveal'd; nor heavenly choirs no other person could do, to infuse into the whole person- Pour'd their full harmony around the bed fication the hardy, boisterous, warm-hearted, and salt- Where sbe lay down to everlasting rest : water spirit of a British sailor. He succeeds so well, Yet were her virtues there,-array'd in light, that after he has cut down his officer for being rude to And shedding radiance round her clammy brow; his wife, and has been tried and is condemned to death, Yet was the voice of Mem'ry loud and clear, he illusion becomes nearly complete, and it is impossible Singing the lofty song of deathless praise