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THE

EDINBURGH LITERARY JOURNAL;

OR,

WEEKLY REGISTER OF CRITICISM AND BELLES LETTRES.

No. 81.

LITERARY CRITICISM.

SATURDAY, MAY 29, 1830,

In the Constitution of Church and State, according to the
idea of each; with Aids towards a Right Judgment of
the Catholic Bill. By S. T. Coleridge, Esq., R. A.,
R. S. L. One volume, post 8vo. Second Edition.
London. Hurst, Chance, and Co. 1830. Pp. 241.
The Revenues of the Church of England not a Burden
upon the Public.
London. John Murray. 1830.
Pp. 104.

PRICE 6d.

till after the publication of his great work on the Logos, and here he abruptly terminates the whole chain of enquiry.

work, of which he has begun to consider the one in hand only a subordinate part. Thus, he proposed in his " Biographia Literaria" to give the history of his literary life and labours; but coming to speak of his share in the Lyrical Ballads, he enters upon an elucidation of the principles of Wordsworth's poetry; and, apropos of this subject, he conceives the idea of laying down canons for the criticism of poetry in general,-in order to do which systematically, he finds it necessary to set out with an enquiry into the distinction between Fancy and Imagination;-by way of preface to this investigation, he enters into a discussion of the first principles of metaphysics, We doubt whether any man living has exercised so and by the time he has got well through this preliminary ervading an influence on the English literature of his matter, his mind misgives him, he postpones the demonay, as Coleridge. Byron, Wordsworth, and Southey,stration of the difference between Fancy and Imagination effrey, De Quincy, and Hazlitt,-poets, critics, moalists, and politicians,-scarcely one individual can be amed, who has not, directly or indirectly, had his views nd opinions formed or modified by the precepts and exmple of Coleridge. Yet, when we come to consult his published works, it is difficult to recognise in them the master mind which thus sways all the rest. We find, t is true, magnificent diction and imagery, comprehenive and profound views of nature, but no clearness, o completeness. We are dazzled and astounded by is gorgeous and overwhelming thoughts, we are struck y the momentous truths which he is momentarily announcing; but we feel only half instructed. It is like istening to the voice of an oracle, which leaves us in greater doubt and confusion than we were before. We are convinced that something is to be learned of which we had previously no conception; but the mighty truth s only indicated at intervals, like the bold promontories of some mountain range, which start forth, here and here, through the shifting masses of voluminous clouds, glowing with reflected lights of gold and purple.

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It is not by what he has done, but by what he has suggested, orally and in books, in prose and in verse, that Coleridge has given direction to the literary energy of the day. Although he has completed nothing, yet every sentence teems with the germs of thought, which have ripened in other minds, though not in his own. It is impossible to read a page in his works, without being set a-thinking; and every now and then we stumble upon some fragment of clear and weighty ratiocination. The work now before us, the perusal of which has set us upon recalling the peculiarities of one to whom we owe so much, is like all its predecessors. It is a bundle of fragments. It is the continuation of an attempt to state a fundamental principle in political science, which the author strove, but in vain, to express clearly, first, in the Morning Post, and afterwards in the Friend. He has succeeded this time in bringing it a little more into tangible form; but he is still any thing rather than clear

The work consists of two parts. The first, which occupies the greater part of the volume, is devoted to the elucidation of a theory of the British constitution in Church and State; the second, which is brief enough, contains an attempt to demonstrate that the late Catholic bill does not infringe upon any fundamental principle of that constitution.

The key to this enigma is to be sought in the character of Coleridge's mind, the most prominent features of which are capacious intellect, high imaginative power, ambition, and indolence. His understanding seems to pervade all nature, and to take interest in all investigations, from dry enquiries into the affinities of words, numbers, and abstract form, to those more vital questions of metaphysics, thies, and theosophy, which haunt the mind like a pas- Passing over some preliminary generalities, explanasion. In all this he is aided, to a great extent, by history of the difference between the words idea and conmagination. It is his imagination which enables him ception, and also of the doctrine of a social contract, Mr o piece all his fragments of experience into one harmo- Coleridge comes to speak of the English Constitution. ious whole, and to impart to the language in which he "It is," he remarks, "the chief of many blessings deenunciates his thoughts that spirit of poetry which ele- rived from the insular character and circumstances of wates and sustains them. A naturally indolent frame of our country, that our social institutions have formed thembody, however, confirmed by indulgence, has had its usual selves out of our proper needs and interests; that, long ffect of relaxing the activity of his mind, and has induced and fierce as the birth-struggle and the growing pains im to rest contented with being a recipient of know- have been, the antagonist powers have been of our own edge, without adding to his acquisitions the art of com- system, and have been allowed to work out their final nunicating the fruit of his researches to others. When balance with less disturbance from external forces than me does man himself to the task of writing, he lays his was possible in the continental states." He also lays Foundation on such a gigantic scale, that his perseverance down the maxim, that "In order to correct views reails long before he can complete his fabric. He gene- specting the Constitution, in the more enlarged sense of ally leaves off in the middle, with a promise to conclude the term, viz. the Constitution of the nation, we must, in he subject in some yet more extensive and systematic addition to a grounded knowledge of the state, have a

right idea of the national church.

These are two poles remain at the fountain-heads of the humanities, cultivating of the same magnet; the magnet itself, which is consti- and enlarging the knowledge already possessed, and watchtuted by them, is the CONSTITUTION of the nation." With ing over the interests of physical and moral science; being likewise the instructors of such as constituted, or were to regard to the constitution of the state, in its narrower ac- constitute, the remaining more numerous classes of the orceptation, as opposed to the church, he proceeds upon the der. This latter, and far more numerous body, were to be principle, that, "in every country of civilized men, ac- distributed throughout the country, so as not to leave even knowledging the rules of property, and by means of de- the smallest integral part or division without a resident termined boundaries and common laws united into one guide, guardian, and instructor; the objects and final inpeople and nation, the two antagonist powers, or opposite tention of the whole order being these to preserve the interests, of the state, under which all other state inte- stores, to guard the treasures of past civilisation, and thus rests are comprised, are those of PERMANENCE and PROto bind the present with the past; to perfect and add to the same, and thus to connect the present with the future; but GRESSION." He points out briefly the causes which connect, especially to diffuse through the whole community, and to on the one hand, the permanence of a state with land or every native entitled to its laws and rights, that quantity and landed property; and on the other, its progression with the quality of knowledge which was indispensable both for the mercantile, manufacturing, distributive, and professional understanding of those rights, and the performance of the duclasses. He thus divides the citizens of the state into two ties correspondent. Finally, to secure for the nation, if not a orders ;—to the one, he gives the appellation of the Agri- superiority over the neighbouring states, yet an equality at cultural Interest; to the other-"as the exponent of all least, in that character of general civilisation which equally with, or rather more than, fleets, armies, and revenue, movable and personal possessions, including skill and ac-forms the ground of its defensive and offensive power. The quired knowledge" he gives the name of the Personal object of the two former estates of the realm, which conInterest. These two classes represent, and, in the national jointly form the STATE, was to reconcile the interest of percouncil, manage, all the interests of the state." On these manence with that of progression-law with liberty. The facts, which must at all times have existed, though in object of the National Church, the third remaining estate very different degrees of prominence or maturity, the prin- of the realm, was to secure and improve that civilisation, without which the nation could be neither permanent nor ciple of our Constitution was established. The total inprogressive." terests of the country, the interests of the state, were intrusted to a great Council, or Parliament, composed of two houses the first consisting exclusively of the major barons, who at once stood as the guardians and sentinels of their several estates and privileges, and the representatives of the common weal;-the minor barons, or Franklins, too numerous, and yet individually too weak, to sit and maintain their rights in person, were to choose, among the worthiest of their own body, representatives, and these in such number as to form an important, though minor, proportion of a second house the majority of which was formed by the representatives chosen by the cities, ports, and boroughs." By this means, the balance was main-rests, and to rely on their faith and singleness of heart in tained between the conflicting claims of the permanent and the progressive classes.

Turning next to consider the Church as an integral portion of the national Constitution, the author remarks: "It was common to all the primitive races, that, in taking possession of a new country, and in the division of the land into heritable estates among the individual warriors or heads of families, a reserve should be made

of a national church. The conclusion drawn from these preThis is Mr Coleridge's view of the character and rights mises by Mr Coleridge is, that there are only two things which disqualify a man for discharging this great national trust ;-"The first is allegiance to a foreign power: the second, the abjuration-under the command and authority of this power, and as by the rule of their order its professed lieges (alligati)—of that bond, which, more than all other ties, connects the citizen, which, beyond all other securities, affords the surest pledge to the state for the fealty of its citizens, and that which enables the state to calculate on their constant adhesion to its inte

the due execution of whatever public or national trus tue of these disqualifying circumstances, he not only de might be assigned to them-the marriage tie." In vir ing office in our national church, but denounces tha nounces individuals of the Romish as incapable of hold church collectively as incapable of supplying the place o

a national church.

The remainder of the first part of the work is dedica ted to fixing the extent of power possessed by our legisla tive bodies to innovate upon the laws of the land, in whic he successfully shows the illegality of their attempting t alter the great landmarks of the constitution.—The s judgment on the late Catholic bill," is occupied with a cond part of the work, entitled "Aids towards a righ

thor's approbation of that measure with the doctring attempt we think a successful one-to reconcile the ar maintained in the first part. Into this question, how ever, we have not left ourselves room to enter. On th whole, we take leave of Mr Coleridge, after a caref

for the nation itself. The sum total of these heritable portions, appropriated each to an individual lineage, I beg leave to name the PROPRIETY; and to call the reserve above-mentioned the NATIONALITY; and likewise to employ the term wealth, in that primary and wide sense which it retains in the term Commonwealth. In the establishment, then, of the landed proprietaries, a nationality was at the same time constituted,-as a wealth, not consisting of lands, but yet derivative from the land, and rightfully inseparable from the same." The body in whom the right to this reserve was vested--the Church Mr Coleridge calls, in the constitutional language of the country, "the third great venerable estate of the realm:"genius, although we are fully prepared to find, that, if n perusal of this volume, with renewed impressions of h "As in the first state," says Mr Coleridge, "the perma- ticed at all, the work will be noticed sneeringly or mali nency of the nation was provided for, and in the second estate, its progressiveness and personal freedom; while in the nantly. king the cohesion by interdependence and the unity of the country were established; there remains for the third estate, only that interest which is the ground, the necessary antecedent condition, of both the former. Now, these depend on a continuing and progressive civilisation. But civilisation is itself but a mixed good, if not far more a corrupting influence, the hectic of disease, not the bloom of health, and a nation so distinguished ought more fitly to be called a varnished than a polished people; where this civilisation is not grounded in cultivation, in the harmonious developement of those qualities and faculties which characterise our humanity. We must be men in order to be citizens.

"The nationality, therefore, was reserved for the support and maintenance of a permanent class or order, with the following duties. A certain smaller number were to

The pamphlet, whose title we have also copied at t head of this article, is temperately and elegantly writte and will be found an interesting appendix to Mr Col ridge's work.

Three Courses and a Dessert. The Decorations George Cruikshank. London. Vizetelly, Branst and Co. 1830. 8vo. Pp. 432.

WILL such of our readers as have not seen this b have the kindness to mention what they suppose its e tents to be, judging by its title? "Three Courses an Dessert, the Decorations by George Cruikshank," m

me frantic!'

naturally be supposed to be a cookery-book, with wood-passengers; I am certain that our pursuers are not far cuts representing flesh, fish, and fowl; but this natural behind us. The idea of having the cup of bliss dashed from and almost inevitable supposition is a thousand miles my very lips,-of such beauty and affluence being snatched wide of the mark. We have often been enraged at the from me for want of a second pair of paltry posters,-drives unintelligibility of a man's signature, but mere unintel"A Gretna Green affair, I presume, sir?' observed the ligibility is a venial fault compared with the palpable inquisitive landlord. mystification of this most affected title. The work en- "The gentleman made no scruple of admitting that he titled "Three Courses and a Dessert," good reader, is had run away with the fair young creature who accompaneither more nor less than a series of tales, grave and gay, nied him, and that she was entitled to a fortune of twenty English and Irish, clever and stupid. The "Decora- thousand pounds: one-half of which,' continued the gentions" are a number of very lively caricatures, by Cruik-tleman, I would freely give, if I had it, to be at this instant behind four horses, scampering away, due north, at shank, from designs by the author himself, and give the full speed.' book a value independent of the diversified nature of the letter-press. Humour is the staple commodity of the work, and, on the whole, the article it brings to market is so good that there ought to be a demand for it. As a specimen, we select the following amusing story, not, however, because it is the best we can find, but because its length is suited to our limits:

THE DEAF POSTILION.

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"I can assure you, sir,' said the landlord,' that a fresh pair of such animals as I offer you, will carry you over the ground as quick as if you had ten dozen of the regular road-hacks. No man keeps better cattle than I do, and this pair beats all the others in my stables by two miles an hour. But in ten minutes, perhaps, and certainly within half an

hour'

"Half an hour! half a minute's delay might ruin me,' replied the gentleman; I hope I shall find the character you have given your cattle a correct one:-dash on, posti

"In the month of January 1804, Joey Duddle, a well-lion!' known postilion on the north road, caught a cold through "Before this short conversation between the innkeeper sleeping without his nightcap; deafness was, eventually, the was concluded, Joey Duddle had put to his horses,-which consequence; and, as it will presently appear, a young for- were, of course, kept harnessed, and taken his seat, pretune-hunter lost twenty thousand pounds and a handsome pared to start at a moment's notice. He kept his eye upon wife, through Joey Duddle's indiscretion, in omitting, on the innkeeper, who gave the usual signal of a rapid wave of one fatal occasion, to wear his sixpenny woollen nightcap. the hand, as soon as the gentleman ceased speaking; and “Joey did not discontinue driving after his misfortune; Joey Duddle's cattle, in obedience to the whip and spur, his eyes and his spurs were, generally speaking, of more uti- hobbled off at that awkward and evidently painful pace, lity in his monotonous avocation than his ears. His stage which is, perforce, adopted by the most praiseworthy postwas, invariably, nine miles up the road, or a long fifteen' horses for the first ten minutes or so of their journey. But down towards Gretna; and he had repeated his two rides the pair over which Joey presided were, as the innkeeper so often, that he could have gone over the ground blindfold. had asserted, very speedy; and the gentleman soon felt satisPeople in chaises are rarely given to talking with their pos-fied, that it would take an extraordinary quadruple team to tilions. Joey knew, by experience, what were the two or overtake them. His hopes rose at the sight of each sucthree important questions in posting, and the usual times ceeding milestone; he ceased to put his head out of the winand places when and where they were asked; and he was dow every five minutes, and gaze anxiously up the road; always prepared with the proper answers. At those parts he already anticipated a triumph-when a crack, a crush, a of the road where objects of interest to strangers occurred, shriek from the lady, a jolt, an instant change of position, Joey faced about on his saddle, and if he perceived the eyes and a positive pause occurred, in the order in which they of his passengers fixed upon him, their lips in motion, and are stated, with such suddenness and relative rapidity, that their fingers pointing towards a gentleman's seat, a fertile the gentleman was, for a moment or two, utterly deprived valley, a beautiful stream, or a fine wood, he naturally of his presence of mind by alarm and astonishment. The enough presumed that they were in the act of enquiring bolt which connects the fore wheels, splinter-bar, springs, what the seat, the valley, the stream, or the wood, was fore-bed, axletree, et cetera, with the perch that passes under called; and he replied according to the fact. The noise of the body of the chaise to the hind-wheel-springs and carthe wheels was a very good excuse for such trifling blunders riage, had snapped asunder; the whole of the fore parts, were as Joey occasionally made; and whenever he found himself instantly dragged onwards by the horses; the traces by which progressing towards a dilemma, he very dexterously conthe body was attached to the fore springs gave way; the trived, by means of a sly poke with his spur, to make his chaise fell forward, and, of course, remained stationary, with hand-horse evidently require the whole of his attention. its contents, in the middle of the road; while the deaf At the journey's end, when the gentleman he had driven postilion rode on, with his eyes intently fixed on vacuity produced a purse, Joey, without looking at his lips, knew before him, as though nothing whatever had happened. that he was asking a question, to which it was his duty to "Alarmed and indignant in the highest degree, at the reply, Nineteen and sixpence,' or Two-and-twenty shil- postilion's conduct, the gentleman shouted with all his lings,' according as the job had been the short up' or the might such exclamations as any man would naturally use on long down. If any more questions were asked, Joey sud-such an occasion; but Joey, although still but a little disdenly recollected something that demanded his immediate tance, took no notice of what had occurred behind his back, attention, begged pardon, promised to be back in a moment, and very complacently trotted his horses on at the rate of and disappeared, never to return. The natural expression eleven or twelve miles an hour. He thought the cattle of his features indicated a remarkably taciturn disposition: went better than ever; his mind was occupied with the almost every one with whom he came in contact, was de- prospect of a speedy termination to his journey; he felt terred, by his physiognomy, from asking him any but ne- elated at the idea of outstripping the pursuers,-for Joey cessary questions, and as he was experienced enough to an- had discrimination enough to perceive, at a glance, that his swer, or cunning enough to evade these, when he thought passengers were runaway lovers, and he went on very fit, but few travellers ever discovered that Joey Duddle was much to his own satisfaction. As he approached the inn deaf. So blind is man in some cases, even to his bodily de- which terminated the 'long down,' Joey, as usual, put his fects, that Joey, judging from his general success in giving horses upon their mettle, and they, having nothing but a correct replies to the queries propounded to him, almost fore carriage and a young lady's trunk behind them, rattled doubted his own infirmity, and never would admit that he up to the door at a rate unexampled in the annals of postwas above one point beyond a little hard of hearing.' ing, with all the little boys and girls in the neighbourhood hallooing in their rear.

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"On the first of June, in the year 1806, about 9 o'clock in the morning, a chaise and four was perceived approaching towards the inn kept by Joey's master, at a first-rate Gretna Green gallop. As it dashed up to the door, the postboys vociferated the usual call for two pair of horses in a hurry; but, unfortunately, the innkeeper had only Joey and his tits at home; and as the four horses which brought the chaise from the last posting-house had already done a double job that day, the lads would not ride them on through so heavy a stage as the long down.'

"How excessively provoking!' exclaimed one of the

"It was not until he drew up to the inn door and alighted from his saddle, that Joey discovered his disaster; and nothing could equal the utter astonishment which his features then displayed. He gazed at the place where the body of his chaise, his passengers, and hind wheels ought to have been, for above a minute, and then suddenly started down the road on foot under an idea that he must very recently have dropped them. On nearing a little elevation, which commanded above two miles of the ground over which he had come, he found, to his utter dismay, that no traces of the

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THE DOS-A-DOS TETE-A-TETE.

"My wife loathes pickled pork, and I hate ham;
I doat on pancakes-she likes fritters:
And thus, alas! just like my morning dram,
The evening of my life is dash'd with bitters!
"Old as we are, the ninnyhammer wants

To teach me French-and I won't learn it;
My nightly path, where'er I roam, she haunts,
And grudges me my glass, though well I earn it.

"The other day, while sitting back to back,

She roused me from my short sweet slumbers,

By taxing me at such a rate, good lack!

And summing up her griefs in these sad numbers:

"Though you lay your head thus against mine, You hate me, you brute, and you know it: But why not in secret repine,

6

Instead of delighting to show it?You question my knowledge of French, And won't believe rummage' is cheese ;Why can't you look cool on the wench?' To me you're all shiver-de-freeze!

"When around you quite fondly I've clung, You have oftentimes said in a rage, Such folly may do for the young,

But I take it to be bad-in-age!

A reticule bag if I buy,

(A trifle becoming each belle,) At Jericho, madam,' you cry,

'I wish you, and your bag-at-elle l'

"When I had in some cordials, so rich!-
With letters all labell'd quite handy;
Says you, I'll enquire, you old witch,
If O D V doesn't mean brandy!'

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Whenever I wish to repose,

You rouse me, you wretch! with a sneeze; And lastly, if I doze-a-doze,

To wex me, you just wheeze-a-wheeze."

in America; I advanced too far, was separated from my friends, and saw three Indians in pursuit of me: the hor rors of the tomahawk in the hands of angry savages, took possession of my mind; I considered for a moment what was to be done; most of us love life, and mine was both precious and useful to my family; I was swift of foot, and fear added to my speed. After looking back-for the country was an open one-I at length perceived that one of my enemies had outrun the others, and the well-known saying of Divide, and conquer,' occurring to me, I slackened my speed, and allowed him to come up; we engaged with mutual fury; I hope none here (bowing to his auditors) will doubt the result; in a few minutes he lay a corpse at my feet; in this short space of time, the two Indians had advanced upon me, so I took again to my heels,-not from cowardice, I can in truth declare,-but with the hope of reaching a neighbouring wood, where I knew dwelt a tribe friendly to the English; this hope, however, I was forced to give up; for on looking back, I saw one of my pursuers far before the other. I waited for him, recovering my almost exhausted breath, and soon this Indian shared the fate of the first. I had now only one enemy to deal with; but I felt fatigued, and being near the wood, I was more desirous to save my own life than to destroy another of my fellow-creatures; I plainly perceived smoke curling up amongst the trees, I redoubled my speed, I prayed to Heaven, I felt assured my prayer would be granted-but at this moment the yell of the Indian's voice sounded in my ears-I even thought I felt his warm breath-there was no choice-I turned round'- Here the gentleman, who had related the wonderful stories at first, grew impatient past his endurance; he called out, Well, sir, and you killed him also?' No, sir-he killed me.'”—Vol. i. p. 18-20.

Our other extract showeth how a lady may communicate the tidings of a great victory without being believed:

THE FIRST NEWs of lord rodneY'S VICTORY. "About this time we received the news of the great victory of Lord Rodney in the West Indies. His messenger was landed near B; he sent to desire my father would meet him, without the gate of the city, in half an hour; that he was the bearer of dispatches from Lord Rodney, and must set out for London as soon as four horses could be ready for him. My father, whose heart was in his profession, did not delay a moment; the news was whispered to him, requiring secrecy for two hours, that the news he brought might not precede him to the Admiralty; my father returned home, where he found me setting out on a visit to my sister. As the two hours of restriction were past, he imparted the good news to me, allowing me to make it public at the first town where I should change horses. At this day I remember my sensations on the journey; every horseman that passed me riding fast, I thought had heard the news, and was hastening to proclaim it; it was, indeed, glorious news. His lordship had obtained a com

We hope that this book, notwithstanding its ridiculous title, will be treated, not with three curses, but accord-plete victory over the French fleet commanded by De G-, ing to its desert.

Memoirs of a Gentlewoman of the Old School. By a Lady. Two vols. London. Hurst, Chance, and Co. 1830. THE lady who writes this book is in her 77th year, and all we can say of it is, that it is a creditable enough production for so venerable a person. It is gossipy, and probably not unamusing; though the facts to us, grave and reverend seignors that we are, appear too small and unimportant to merit much consideration. The author-ess seems to have lived, unmarried, principally in England, but for a time also on the Continent, and has occupied her age with recounting the gaieties of her youth, and the adventures of her maturer years. We select two extracts of rather an entertaining kind. The first is entitled

A MARVELLOUS STORY.

"I was bred up in a dislike of the marvellous, or the stupid wonderful, as my uncle called it. I must relate an anecdote in point. Some gentlemen were dining together, and relating their travelling adventures; one of them dealt so much in the marvellous, that it induced another to give him a lesson.

"I was once,' said he, ‘engaged in a skirmishing party

had taken and destroyed many of their best ships, amongst them the Ville de Paris, of 120 guns. The first town I came to was a large one, it had its mayor and alderman, the assizes were held there, and, moreover, just then some troops were quartered in it, and I was acquainted with the commanding officer. I quitted the chaise while the horses were changing, and dispatched two messengers, one to the mayor and the other to the major; both came in a few minutes. I had composed a proper speech, but my trepidation destroyed the graces of oratory; however, in a few words, I informed them of the good news I brought, naming my posed me: one said, he hoped the news was true; the other, authorities. How their composed countenances discom

We shall know more soon!'-'You cannot know more than I tell you,' said I, rather saucily; they took their departure, and I pursued my journey.

"Never had a prettier castle been destroyed; my fancy had pictured to me a whole town rejoicing, bells ringing, hearts of candle-merchants rejoiced by orders for candles to illuminate, and neighbours running to neighbours to spread the news. Nothing like it: it was supposed a young lady's report, which, of course, must savour of exaggeration; and to wait for confirmation was determined upon; so the bellropes were unpulled, and no more candles lighted that night than for the usual purposes; it was so provoking, too, that a piece of news almost unprecedented for its exactness. should not have produced a better and more instantaneous effect; but disappointment was then more of a novelty to me than it has been since."-Vol. i. pp. 150-2.

If our readers feel inclined, from the above specimens, to peruse more of this book, it may be obtained by application to their bookseller.

Imilda de' Lambertazzi; and other Poems. By Sophia Mary Bigsby. London. Hurst, Chance, and Co. 1830. 12mo. Pp. 200.

MISS BIGSBY is a young lady of the L. E. L. school,

but she has not so much genius as Miss Landon. The first and longest poem in the book is in the same verse as the Improvisatrice, and is divided into three Parts. The story is abundantly simple, and founded upon an incident common enough in Italian history-that of two young people of hostile families falling in love with each other, and having their affection brought to a tragic end. There is not stamina enough in such an incident for a poem of much vigour, unless, as in the case of Shakspeare's "Romeo and Juliet," it be built up and surrounded with many circumstances of the author's own creation. Miss Bigsby trusts to nothing but the sympathy of her readers, and a belief that they will never tire of verse, in which, as the Ettrick Shepherd says, "love is a' the theme." Sooth to say, the young ladies of the present generation hesitate not to talk of love in a style which would have made their grandmothers blush. They, of course, mean nothing but the most perfect platonism; yet we cannot help thinking that such platonism is apt to be dangerous. Let us, for example, look at the manner in which Miss Bigsby's Imilda de' Lambertazzi, who was a pattern of propriety, spends her time when she meets with her lover:

"Alone!-ah, it was no longer so !—

She hath reach'd the leaf-woven portico,

She hath cross'd its threshold,-and gracefully there
Leant the form of her dark-eyed cavalier,
Her own loved Fazio:-What now unto her

Were the tasteless pleasures this world might confer?
Dwelt not her world in the eagle eye
Now fix'd upon hers so tenderly?

Dwelt not her world in the circling fold

Of her arm, as in fondness, uncontroll'd,

His worshipp'd form to her heart she prest,
And sank, all trembling, on his breast,
Hiding her cheek's vermilion dye,

Where her image was shrined so faithfully?"

We submit to Miss Bigsby, and also to Miss Bigsby's grandmamma, likewise to her maiden aunt, and, moreover, to her uncle by the father's side, that Imilda should not have put her arm round Fazio in the "leaf-woven portico," and that, as for "pressing his form to her breast," it was really very shocking conduct, or, at least, one of those things which, if a young lady thinks fit to do, should not be spoken of by her friends. Imilda de' Lambertazzi, however, had a trick of catching hold of her Fazio's "worshipped form" in a very tender manner, as witness the following lines:

"Some inward feeling seem'd to thrill
Through her very soul as, all silent still,
On his shoulder sunk her drooping head-

Was it to hide the blush which spread
O'er her young cheek?-was it in fear

That her answer should speak too plainly there?
He knew not;-he only felt her hold
Grow yet more firm, and in that fold,

Oh! who may tell the vast excess

Of his spirit's o'er flowing happiness!

Long, long in that fond embrace they stood,
Both yielding to the boundless flood
Of feelings, whose vivid warmth confest
Love's empire o'er each glowing breast."

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not a most delightful object, or that a lady's "vermilion cheek" should never be hid on his breast, or that there

is not something very fine in standing in a "long em

ing breast," and so forth;-on the contrary, we mean not to deny that it would give us the most exquisite delight to find ourselves in such a situation, either with Imilda de' Lambertazzi or Miss Sophia Mary Bigsby; but this is not the question. The point in dispute is, whether it be altogether decorous for the said Sophia to betray the confidence of her heroine, and to mention publicly what Imilda de' Lambertazzi never expected would portico." It has become fashionable now-a-days to dehave been known beyond the precincts of the "leaf-woven scribe love merely through the medium of its outward symbols, such as "burning blushes," "passionate sighs," "lava tears," tions, the fact being altogether overlooked that "these in," "beating hearts," and other corporeal affecdeed seem," but that there is "that within which passeth show" something below this mere surface-work, much

attention of the true poet. more worth describing, and much more deserving the Miss Bigsby for falling into the popular error; she has We do not particularly blame only followed the example that has been set her by some

of her seniors. Should she ever come before the public

again, however, she would do well to avoid it.

Some of the minor pieces in this volume are pretty, and indicate a good deal of poetical feeling. As a favourable specimen, we extract the following:

THE MEMORY of the dead.

Forget them not! though now their name
Be but a mournful sound,
Though by the hearth its utterance claim
A stillness round.-MRS HEMANS.

"The Memory of the Dead!

It shall not pass away,

As pass all thoughts which time and change Hold 'neath their earthly sway.

"The Memory of the Dead!

Still round the heart 'twill clingA flower-whose fadeless bloom

Shall know no withering.

"The one undying flower

'Mid all earth's sweets, which still May cheer the faint and fetter'd soul, When crush'd with human ill.

"The Memory of the Dead Shall it not oft arise, When Slumber's wand unveils

Her hidden mysteries?

"Oft shall sweet visions bless

Our dreams of night; Then shall loved forms again Gladden our sight!

"Then may we watch again
Ev'ry look, ev'ry tone,
All that we once had deem'd-
Vainly our own!

"The Memory of the Dead! Oh! strongly it dwells

In our lone wanderings
O'er earth's green dells:

"When we gaze on each fair scene Loved by the quiet dead, And trace the very spots

Hallow'd by their light tread!

"Oh! thus shall ever live

Their memory in the heart,

A treasure held within the depths

Of its least worldly part!"

If Miss Bigsby be very young, her writings will doubt

brace," and in a "boundless flood of feelings," and a "glow-less acquire additional strength and value by and by.

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