The Sun. — London, England, 1830-03-15 00:00:00

LITERATURE. AP:PAIRS OF TUE NATIONi LoNnos, 1830. The author of this very intelligent volume hes neither overrated his judgment, nor hi s t a ttaty o f sound, moral, and political refleetioli, by as suming the signature of " Common Sense." His book is replete with proofs of this much talked of, but ram quality ; not a page but abounds in it, scarcely an argument but is based on it. The most complicated and cornprehttsive topics—•tbe Church, with its cutebttns plurali ties and manifold abuses...-the Law, with its ensuistries, its mysteries, its inconsistencies, and its broad downright incornprehensibilities ; the system of monopolies, private or rablit.--oi education, national or indivithal—of Govern ment, in its every form and fashion ;—these va rious, and, in many instances, recondite topics, are stripped of their superfluous drapery-, laid bare to the reader's comprehension ) gal discussed with a pertinent simplicity ) and a power of thought and expression, that cannot fail to render them generally intelligible. We know few popular authors of the present day who could have produced ao civrer a work. Mr. Southey could have supplied the easy freedom of style ; Mr. Jeffrey the sarcasm, liveliness, and fertility of illustration ; Mr. Brougham the vigour and manliness ; but none of these could singly have put forth such varied ability. The great "charm of the work, however, is its strict literal good sense. It hasnumerous other excellences, but this 2 , like Aaron's serpent swallows all the rest," It is throughout a broad appeal to the chief characteristic of an English intellect. The volume (addressed to the Duke of Wellington) h divided into chapters, each of which deve lopes a striking analytical faculty, and discusses some one important national topic. We shall confine ourselves, however, to the two sections, headed " The March of Intellect," and " Edu ration." In the former of these, the author tri umphantly proves the utter absurdity of the pre judices entertained against the present spread of information : "By the parasites, the flatterere, the expectants of that eptem which Fears the truth, and therefore hates under 'etaading and knowledge, those words have been attempted to be held np as a proverb and e. scorn; but tha, instead of militating anything against them, is a proof that they are true and well chosen. What made your Lordship's match over ea many battle fields a march of victory ? Was it the mere motion of certain masses of matter? No. It was bemuse it was a march of intellect; because the spirit and the understanding of man constantly directed the whole. What has made this island, once a cold and tleipping wilderness inhabited by a few naked savages, so abundant in the comforts, and so redolent of the joys of hfe ? Was it because the bodies of the people weighed so rainy rounds in the scale, or stood so many inches in height ? No. The people of Patagonia, even after all the exaggerations have been discounted, very far out-measure tie, and yet they continue starving and miserable ! Is it even the dexterity of our hands that has done this for us ? It is not. In the use of these, we are immeasurably be hind the Hindoos; and yet, while we have been advancing, and hare advanced, till the four cornets of the earth le oeive our word ae a law, the Hindoos have remained sta tionary since the time of Sesostris--have been an almost unresisting highway, which an invader of any tribe and from any lend might 'pass over and trample down as he liked. When tee compare our own nateral situation with that of very many other ne.tions, we find that in every thing physical we are inferior ; and, therefore, it must be to intellect, and to intellect alone, that we owe our supe riority. Instead, therefore, of ' the march of intellect,' bring any thing to sneer at, it is but another name for • the march of England ;' and the Englishman who dares to mock at it,' is a foolish and 'ungrateful son mocking at his mether." This is very fairly arid forcibly put. The author then proceeds to defend the character of modern improvements from the attacks of those who object to them, that they are showy, superficial, and superfluous. On the particular subject of Literature, however, we cannot but think that he rates too highly the genius of the present age. Certainly all classes read now-a-days, and some possibly reflect, but it is not to be denied that' our current literature is superficial to a degree never before known, at least in England. We have no Clarendons nor Gibbons in history—no Barrows, Taylors, nor Butlers in divinity—no Addisons in elegant (Mr. Jeffrey has ceased to write), nor Johnsons in manly criticism— no Burkes in political, nor Stewarts in moral philosophy ; no Popes nor Drydens in poetry—Moore, Campbell, Crabbe, Rogers, Wordsworth, and some one or two others of that sterling school having long since taken to prose or inactivity—while as regards the drama, our national talent is barren, if not extinct, and in the novel we can boast of but two or three names of eminence. But if we have few authors —we allude to those now immediately before the public—destined to survive or stamp their age, we have hundreds who amuse it, and whose eternity is limited to three months of a London Spring. To the motion then of " Common Sense," that the literary character of the day is unprecedented, we will propose an amendment, to the effect that though it be unprecedented, and to be respected, so far as its universality goes, it is at the same time mediocre and superficial in its pretensions. If " Common Sense" will accede ta this amendment, well ; if not, we will vote against him in the minority. On the subject of Education our author writes with consummate ability. He advocates " a regular establishment for the instruction of the people." And why should we not have one ? We have establishments for every thing else ; for the church, the law, the navy, the army : we have first-rate gaols, excellent medical repositories (where patients may be put to death gratis, and according to the most ap proved principles of the art), but for that which lays, or should lay, the foundation of eminence in all these several professions, we are left to the mercy of chance and circumstance. Of charity schools our author thinks but meanly, indeed , he asserts that " they are the very curse of the lower classes in England ;" and of what are styled "Academies" he has an equally indifferent opinion. • On this last point, reserving to our selves the privilege of making some honourable exceptions, we agree with him toto ado. We cannot however coincide in the justice of the -followin g sneers at our Universities. " The single fact of. the Academic honours not depending upon' extent of acquirements, but upon length . of time---4ts if a dunce of twenty years gadding were not twice as incorrigible a s katince of ten—would be decisive on the point that thc , Catholic colleges of Isis and Cam are not adapted for comtnun . leating that species of information that the people want." Our author Iffee betrays (an unusual thing with him) lamentable ignorance of the system pursued at the Universities. Academic honours do net depend on length of time, Certain Formal be= grees, the possesitton which confers neither honour to'r emolument, and which are mere matter-of-fact certificates to prove how long Mr. A. or B. has been connected with the Uni versity, may certainly be obtained, it is fit they should be, by length of tithe -; Lilt the real lucrative Acailemi hohours—those which stamp the ihtelleet of the successful candidate and en sure his future promotion—are to be tc".tieied only by hard, continuo" and active study. The triumphs or the Senior Wrangler—of the &Ilia Medallist—of the Divinity and Poetry prize -men, depend neither on time nor length of service, else how many thick-skulled A.BA, A.M.'s, and even ADA, (" For think not, ►nistt'ess, more true dullness lies 'heath Folly's mask than Wisdom's grave disguise,") Would have torn the laurels from the brows of a Kaye—a Copley—a Peacock—a Grant—or e Macaulay ! With regard to "a regular establishment for the instruction of the people," we think it a poitit worthy of grave consideration. Whether it can be accomplished is another matter. But certainly the idea is feasible, and would at least have this good effect, that it would bind toge ther thZ different classes of the community in the bonds of a stricter and more harmonious fel lowship, as well as encourage a nobler spirit of emulation and enterprise among them, than is the case at present: It would also ensure them the materials of a sterling education, for the Profes sors of a grand national scholastic establishment must necessarily, from the very publicity and responsibility attached to their situation, be men competent to discharge it ; whereas, as education is at present regulated, there needs neither De gree, talent, nor respectability to enable any one, if he please, to adopt the profession of a school master. Advertise in the newspapers, or allow your name to " stand rubric on the walls" in notable companionship with Warren's Blacking, Rowland's Macassar, or Lady's Elixir, as Pro fessor ©f this or that " Academy for young Gen tlemen," or it may be even " young Ladies," — and the business is hall done. Hence, perhaps, the ridicule attached by our old, and even by our modern writers, to the significant word " Peda gogue." NEWMAN ON CAPITAL PUNISHMENTS, Sze.— Lownox, 1830. The hero of this long pamphlet is Mr. James Butler, whose misfortune it was to be hanged some months since for setting fire to a floor cloth manufactory at Chelsea. We have not less than some dozen pages of particulars re specting the conduct of this spiritualized young convict. We have first, his trial, conviction, and execution ; secondly, his deportment in gaol ; thirdly, a copious inventory of his protestations of entire innocence ; and lastly, a description of the blessed frame of mind—the seraphic rapture —the inconceivable enthusiasm with which he made his exit from this wicked world. Mr. Allan Newman—who pleads guilty to this absurd production—after giving Its in full the story of Butler's wrongs, proceeds to let fly the " squibs and crackers" of his puny indignation at the Times, because that journal had the bar barity to believe in the convict's guilt. Not content with this infliction, he goes on still further to devclope those faculties of absurdity with which nature has abundantly endowed him, by florid quotations from the " Spiritual Times," respecting the last moments of two flagitious convicts whom a Dr. Andrews, we believe of Walworth, describes as having " made their exit" in the most gratifying manner possible. Some of these quotations—which Air. Allan Newman has introduced into his pamphlet, doubtless by way of make-weight, though osten sibly to prove the inhumanity of capital punish ments—are the most capital things of the kir.d extant. On entering Newgate, the Rev. Doctor (speaking of Martelli, who swung last July for forgery,) says, " there was a fervour in his ex pressions, and a wildness in some of his oxtacies, that would have startled an occasional bye-stander, or any one who had not closely watched his gra dual ascent from impervious despondency to an enlightened and enlarged comfort, which enabled him to look me in the face with unutterable smiles, and speak of to-morrow's execution with a calmness that almost killed, while it de- lighted his companion." Conceive the idea of a " stout, robustious, perriwig-pated" Dissenting Doctor being almost killed by the unutterable smiles of a man who is to be hanged for forgery ! " Next day," says the Doctor, "my soul teas fall of midnight, (quere, his brains ?) I could not endure the terrible idea of three fine young men, Messrs. Martelli, Conway, and Butler, being thus cut off." How tender ! See what it is to be a fine young man ! Again, " There was a languor about the looks of Con way, and a dignified kind of complaining ex pression, that harrowed up the very soul. As for Martelli, he offered a prayer most suitable and affecting ; indeed, there was something in his fervour and holy eloper - ee of soul that de lighted and astonished me. I cannot tell the glory of that prayer." After indirectly com mending his own Sermons, the Doctor goes on to describe the last momenta of this regenerated triumvirate. Of Martelli, he says, "as he ad vanced towards the steps, I could have wished a valedictory sentence or two, but the wheel of de sting rolled on"—the consequence of which was that Martelli was hanged, and the Doctor left alone to moralise on " the delicacy of the law's edge." There is a singular tendency, says the Monthly Review, in two fools to come together. This will at once account for the circumstance of Dr. Andrews figuring side by side with Mr. Allan Newman, in the pages of this pamphlet. The object of the Doctor's appearance here, is to back by the weight of his influence Mr.Newniau's remarks on the inadequacy of capital punishment to restrain crime, as also on the imperfect way in which relieious Consolation_ is administered within the condeinned cells of Newgate. Into these points we do not wish at present to enter but we esuitiot, and will tibt; refrath trom entering tit• Vrol6st against that disgusting system of cant which sees in the last mental throes of some poor distracted sinner, revelations of spiritual in telligence; which tortures him with abstruse evan gelical dogmas, for the selfish—the brutal —pur pose of making a display of superior sanctity; and which, *hen he is at last brought to the foot of the scaffold, wrests from his bewilderment the con viction of his " perfect h4piness,V and exults over hit " blessed exit," as though he were an Elijah, transported on a car of glory into the presence of the Godhead ! Mr. Allan New man's pamphlet is full of this sickening trash. He is the very incarnation of dull fatuity: " Theolunt in crass° jurcffes aere nation." tic prose over the death of Butler ; details the parti culars of his correspondence with that congenial civic knight, Sir Peter Laurie; calls the Editor of the Times, " a painted moralist,"—implying thereby, we presume, that the Editor wears rouge gives plenteous descriptions of at least a dozen executions, with the refreshing comments of Dr. Andrews on some two or three of them ; and in short, in every line, sentence, page, and chapter, follows up the advice of honest Dogberry, to t‘ write himself down an ass." So much for Mr. Allan Newman, and that other Vicar of Bray, Dr. Andrews. They were . made for each other, and are manifestly no conjurors, no members of the rare CEdipodean family. MEMOIRS OF MADAME DU BARRI, Wm. I. LONDON, 1830. Madame du Barri, the favourite mistress of the profligate Louis the Fifteenth in his dotage, was a woman of low extraction, but gifted with shrewdness, liveliness, and no inconsider able share of personal attractions. At the early age of 16 she fell a victim to the fascinations of a pastrycook's apprentice, from which period, unincumbered by any excessive modesty or principle, she resolved to turn her beauty to the best account, and restrict her smiles to those only who could afford to pay for such an expensive luxury. Up to the period of her 23d year she led the usual life of a courtesan, and carried on her intrigues quietly and with as little ostentation as possible, now associating with men of high birth and superior intellect, and now sinking to • the level of the mistresses of low gamblers and needy adventurers. By a lucky accident, just as she had entered on her 24th year, she pro cured the high honour of an introduction to sup with the King, chiefly through the instrumenta lity of M. Lebel, " Superintendant of the Secret Pleasures," Valet de Chambre to the Royal dotard, and who " could grant or refuse the honour of a share of the King's bed !" Fortu nately Madame—, or, as she afterwards styled herself, by virtue of a left-handed marriage, Countess—du Barri, took Louis's fancy most astonishingly, and was in consequence proclaimed his mistress, not stealthily or equivocally, but with a dignity and decorum worthy the chaste occa sion. From this moment she became, to all intents and purposes, Queen of France. She brought in and turned out Ministers, dispensed power, place, and patronage, and blighted with a frown, or fostered with a smile, all of whom she condes cended to take notice. With the death of Louis, however, expired her reign, not of terror, but of libertinism. She afterwards sunk into comparative insignificance ; lived to see the breaking forth of the French revolution, and the death of most of those from whom, during her gay career, she had received kindness ; and, finally, was guillotined, much to her astonishment and dislike, on a fine summer morning in the year 1793. The present volume brings down her memoirs to the year following that of her presentation at Court, about which as much fuss was made at Paris as if Louis bad declared war against all Europe. The state, it seems, was divided into two great parties on the occasion, one of whom sided with Madame du Barri, and the other with her rival, the Duchess de Grammont. The faction raged fiercely for a considerable time, greatly to the discomfiture of the royal appetite. The aristo cracy felt their privileges invaded, and their ni ce sense of morality outraged, insomuch as th e King had declined taking a mistress from their order, while the more ignoble courtiers, who had little to lose and all to hope, sided to a man with Madame du Bard. The presentation of this lady proved their discernment. It took place in defiance of the clamours of half the French Peerage, and was ultimately the ruin of the Duchess de Grarnmont and her party. These minutim Madame du Barri details with much force and liveliness. She writes with consum mate skill, and in relating a whimsical incident (such, for instance, as the intrigue of that paragon of purity the Countess D'Egrnont, who, to adopt the significant phraseology of the pre sent day, " had an accident" with a pro mising young linen-draper) or hitting off a sketch of character, a Louis the Fifteenth, a Duke de Richelieu or de Choiseul, a Comte Jean, or a pimping valet, evinces great powers of observation and ridicule. Her picture of the French Court, though wonderfully enter taining, exhibits a scene of shameless, coarse, and brutal profligacy, absolutely without parallel. A dreadful taint pervaded the whole of the upper classes, the most abandoned of whom were Bishops. Madame du Barri, with great naivete, asserts that many of these pampered ecclesiastics were the greatest rogues in trance. We can readily take her at her word. When this amusing autobiography is concluded we may probably speak more in detail respecting it, at present we must close our account with the fol lowing extract : " At this period of my life I formed an intimacy with a young female of very gentle appearance, and with a dis position as charming as her face. She came into the world to seek adventures, but without noise or disturb ance, and rather by refusing attentions, which seemed troublesome to her. She was tender and loving, with Chesnut hair, rosy lips, on which was the most charming smile, and large blue eyes of inexpressible serenity. She said she was of Franche-Comte, and as we all belonged to illustrious families. slie appert.inerl to that of Grammont. She b a d l int her jitliband) a captain, an d h a d c ows to Par:: to solicit a pension. That Was . her tale, and Wti each had one of the kind. Madame de Mellaniete lived in the M trais nue Porte•Poin, in a small house, in which she occupied a neat an:l gatcel apartment. " From the time I became intinwe with her, I re marked that she had changed her lover three times in two months, and always from causes independent of herself. The first, a rich Englishman, had been suddenly recalled to his own country ; the second, a German Baron, had been compelled to quit Paris in consequence of the un complaisant conduct of his creditors ; and the third, a young country gentleman, had been taken by his father away from Madame de Mcllaniere, whom he wished to marry. I pitied my gentle Wend., and she, with a Adm.. i ng smile , , a irl to me; whilst lowering her large blue eyes, 1 am not fortunate.' " Seek better, then,' said I, ' and yon will find.' " She did Fce k, but with much prudence. She re pulsed a crowd of financiers, lords, and• lawyers; in fact, all whom other women would have rejoiced to have. It might he said, that, to be welcomed by her, a man must be entirely unknown, or at least a stran„er. At this juncture there was introduced to me a young Anglo-Ame rican, very rich, named Brown, This young man was well received, ar.ti remained a visitor fur some time. My friend sought to please him, and succeeded. Gentle at tentions, flirtations, tender billets, assignations, rapidly succeeded each other. This affair was fully in agitation, when one evening, after supper, M. Brown told us he was compelled to set out fur St. Petersburgh, where his father's affairs imperiously demanded his presence. " On the intelligence of his departure I was wretched about my poor friend. She had not been at our house that evening, and I determined to pay her a visit the next day to try and console her. On the morrow, therefore, I went to her residence, and being told by the porter that she was at home, ascended the staircase and rung at her bell. The door was opened by her maid-servant, who knew me instantly, and exclaimed, " Oh Mademoiselle, 'I am a lost woman, if M. le Comte does not come to my succour.' - " What terrible thing has happened?' I ;winked. " Conte in MatlemoitTelle, and you shall see - . 9 " closed the door upon us, told me that Ma/lame de 111:211aniere was from home, led me to her bed-chamber, pushed aside her bed, and then pressing a spring, lifted a trap concealed in the floor, exclaimed, " Here, look !' " I approached and looked, tittered a shriek and fainted, It was down this trap that the lovers of Madame de Mel. laniere successively disappeared after they lead been mur. dered. Their carcasses were there, and an infectious me! came from the hole." LIFE AND TIMES OF FRANCIS THE FIRST. LONDON, 1830. We are glad to find that this intelligent his tory has reached a second edition. It is in every respect worthy of the popularity it has met with, combining diligence with impartiality, and re search, with a power of drawing character, and speculating upon motives, that is particularly rare—with the exception of Messrs. Hallam and Sharon Turner—among the historians of the present day. Few periods present a better field for the display of all those qualities which a good historian ought to possess, than those iH which that remarkable triumvirate, Francis, Charles, and Henry, flourished. In selecting his subject, therefore, Mr. Bacon has shown no less good taste, than he has shown judgment in its execution. The commencement and middle parts of the . sixteenth century present such extraordinary attractions to the imagination, they abound so much in romance, arc so fer tile in incident, and so rich in the heroic character, as well as in statesmen, that none hut an author of refined and severe judgment could have withstood the temptation to deck them out in the garniture, if not of absolute fiction, at least of poetic and eloquent exaggera tion. But Mr. Bacon's judgment has with stood the temptation, and in this, his first ac knowledged production of any moment, he has won his spurs as an historian. Parts of his book arc of course superior to others, and among the most successful we may instance his details of the well-known meeting I4etween Francis and Henry at the Field of the Cloth of Gold—his rapid—almost too much so—but correct and spirited sketch of the meteor-like career of Gaston de Foix, " the hero boy who perished in his pride," - as Byron calls him—his account of the battle of Pavia, which is told with considerable energy and minuteness--and, last not least, his allusions to the literary character of . the age in which Francis lived : and subse quent to the battle of Pavia. In this last por tion of his history, however, we cannot but think that Mr. Bacon has done injustice to the talents of Rabelais ; a man whom Swift and Arbuthnot were proud to imitate, whom Pope— the fastidious Pope—highly valued, and whose works,—though licentious (the fault of the age), extrrvagant, and, we will add, obscure—abound in wit, humour, learning, imagination, and satire, to a degree unequalled in the world's lite rature. This is the sole blemish we find with a work which reflects credit on our times, and places its author on a level with Robertson.— Indeed, so far as style goes, we prefer " Francis the First" to " Charles the Fifth." It is less gaudy, and elaborately smooth and elegant ; but it has equal force, more ease, and incomparably more nature and LETTERS FROM NOVA SCOTIA- --LONDON, 1530. Among the much talked of, but comparatively little knov►•n provinces in North America, Nova Scotia takes a foremost rank. The wilds of Canada have of late been rendered familiar to us by numerous pleasant and instructive books of travels, and the more vivacious order of novels. The United States have been brought under our observation at least six times a year, for the last ten years, more especially by the late researches of that showy, piquant traveller, Captain Basil Hall,—but the more humble province of Nova Scotia has been left to the passing cursory notice of some journalist, who was bent, as he imagined, on higher matters of description. The present volume, therefore, is every way an addition to our stores of informa- tion. It is the production of Captain William Moorsom, a gentleman of no ordinary attain ments, who adopting the epistolary form of writing, pens his information in a light, cheer ful, and good humoured style. His book has both amused and instructed us. FITZ OF FITZFORD.—Lospox, 1880. The scene of this interesting tale is laid in Devon. The incidents are founded on an old legend, still rife, we understand, in the neigh bourhood of Tavistock, respecting a duel which took place ages since, between Sir John Fitz, of Fitzford, near Tavistock, and Sir Nichoks Slanning, of Bickleigh, in which the latter lost his life, and by which the former was brought to an ignominious end. Upon this slight basis, Mrs. Bray has founded a tale, which, in point of incident, is fertile, and in point of description may 'vie with some of the most popular novels of the day. Indeed, the varied scenery of Devon, in the south of which the fair authoress, we learn, resides, ha; impressed itself on her mind, and warmed her imagination to a degree bordering upon enthusiasm. The imposing wastes of Dartmoor, with its strange mixture of moor and morass, mountain, rock, and Torr, have met with an historian worthy of their varied mag nificence. Few people can rise from the perusal of " Fitz of Fitzford," without being struck with the singular case and spirit with which its sketches of character and scenery have been pourtrayed. We subjoin a passing description of one of the matchless vales of Devon : " This spot was characterised by that kind of beauty so peculiar to the !rallies of Devon, who.e rocky, tumul tuous, and foaming. rivers, are, perhaps, nnequalled in any part of England. It lay between two hills, the highest of which was crowned by trees that hung feathering down its sides. The Walla, that cryatal stream, immortalized by a nat.ve bard, flowed gently, with low murmur:, over the pebbles that formed its bed. On the green banks grew the purple harebell, the primro.e, and tufted daisies, bending their heads before the light breath of spring, that seemed to daily with every leaf and bough that hung around. The birds that tenanted these wild brake., an— eompanied with their evening song the music of the waters, " Marrying their sweet notes with the silver sound.' " Thus gliding forward, the stream at length encoun tered a mass of rock, near which a deep black cavity, with moss-grown - sidis, formed a natural basin, that re ceived the stream, and where it lay as a still and & Jassy mirror. A large aperture, like the lip of a cup, allowed the waters a free passage to continue their course from the basin or hollow. Thence the ground formed a gentle descent, and being thickly strewn with masses of rock, the Walla, after passing this basin, railed the Pixies' Pool, entirely 'changed its character, and rushed, leaping and bounding, tumultuously forward, white with foam, and dashing over every obstacle that offered the least impedi ment to its course. On either side of the rocky basin grew a small grove of trees, composed of beech, sycamore, and the weeping -willow, that gracefully drooped its head, and seemed to stand, like Narcissus, contemplating its own beauty in the clear mirror beneath. " The evening now drew in apace, the sun was slowly sinking below the west rn hills, and left, like great ones of the earth at their departure, the fading tracts of a lin gering glory. The di.tant heights of Dartmoor, with their mighty tors, already wore the black and mourning mantle of night ; while, from the deep vallies, and their many rivers, a thick and dusky vapour slowly arose, and extended itself, like a vast curtain, over every surround ing object. The cattle lowed in the distance. The birds ceased their clamour, and winged their flight to seek shelter in their nests ; each sound of the day gradually sunk to rest, and 'silence. girt the woods."' FAMILY CLASSICAL LIBRARY.-LONDON, 1839, Mr. Valpy has here presented us with ano ther number of this very instructive miscellany, containing Spelman's well-known translation of Xenophon, one of the most entertaining, if not the most intellectual, of the Greek historians. The volume is every way worthy of encourage ment, and is ably edited, with a neatly written and pertinent introduction. MOUNT SINAI.—LormoN, 1830. There has been a singular revolution within the last few years in the public taste for poetry. Instead of love—romance—or chivalry—nothing now goes down but religion. We have poems (by the same author) firstly, on the " Deity ;" secondly, on the " Devil ;" on " Creation"— on " The Opening of the Sixth Seal,"—on the " Wickedness of Man," (a fruitful theme,) on " Mount Horeb," and now on " Mount Sinai." Whether there be not a great deal of affectation in this sort of taste we will not here pause to in quire ; enough to state that it exists, and that the author of the volume before us has turned it to good account, and written as impressively on a scriptural subject as any poet that has preceded him. His blank verse (though sometimes grand iloquent and affected,) is flowing ; his senti ments exalted and fervent : " In robes of living light, Before Jehovah, so effulgent he That mortal sense had fancied him resolved As'twere to featured empyrean fire. His glowing hands the Tables of the Law Tenacious held, and from his upward eye Flashed pious ecstacy. Replete arose The fragrant sweets of calamos, and stacte, Perfume balsamic, and redolent spice, Effused in ether. Twice ten thousand forms Of angel orders their aspixts serene In glorious dignity of place around Reveal'd resplendent. To each beaming head, In beauty sculptured, was a diamond Liar, Adorning and adorn'd. Their quivering harps, And sweet recorders, waken'd into sound, Brewhe paeans joyous, and the silvery strains Concordant float through aromatic air. The changeful iris of their glancing wings Enamell'd space, and gave the features rude Of Sinai's solitude for once to smile Imputed radiance. The Increate Himself, 'Mid these imparediscd, apart from all, Is present proximate, and gracing earth, In blest perfection Immaterial shows. Such awful nature, so trans ending thought, Access of sense refuseth ; but the soul, With stronger vision gifted, could perceive His shrouded glory. The portentous sight O'er Moses' spirit sublimate and rapt, Emits beatitude. Thus, all in red, The Almighty stood Impalpable on high, Benevolence breathing upon heaven, and earth, And all created.' ANECDOTES OF FOLLY.—LoNnoN, 1830. Anecdotes of Folly ! What a small book for so prolific a subject ! We had expected at least an Encyclopedia on this theme, and be hold we arc put off with a skinny duodecimo.— Had these anecdotes related to wisdom, the size of the volume would then have been commen surate with its materials ; but folly—can her anecdotes he condensed within the small com pass of an Elzevir duodecimo ? Impossible. FOREIGN REVIEW.—Losnox, 1830. This is the best number that has yet ap peared of this periodical. The articles are various and well selected ; elaborated with much care both as to information and style, and happily adapted to the literary tastes of the day. The opening essay on Ignatius Loyola, the founder of the Jesuit Society, is in every respect a master piece. The interest it excites is extraordinary, being in fact, a complete ecclesiastical romance. Ignatius Loyola was a species of " Spiritual Quixottc," and the account of his first setting forth to subdue the nations of the world by the force of prayer, fasting, and excommunication, re minds us so strongly of the Knight of La Mancha's first departure from the Cas - tilian Inn, on a somewhat similar expedition—at least in point of wildness and infatuation—that we can not forbear presenting it to our readers. Igna- tius Loyola is I)on Quixote without his Fistc board vizor (for ATambrino's helmet had not then been secured), his quivering lance, and his matchless steed Rosinante : " Before he (Ignatius) arrived at Monrietrat, he por chatfed a piece of coarse sackcloth, and had a pilgrimi's dress made of it, coming down to the ancles ; he provided himself also with a rope instead of a military belt, a P ilir grim's st a ff, a gour d f or n orinking cop,, a n d s hoes ° esparto, or brass-weed. He did not, however, a' Ye t ', pia himself i n this co4tune, and proceeded to the geese' mountain in his military dress ; and on his way . tbithe r fl to stren:zthen himself against his own weakness, he mad° a vow of chastity to our Saviour and to the blessed Vire: . Having readied the monast,ry, he there went through tr whole course of hi s f ormer lif e i n con f ess i on to one o f th e brethren, a Fren c h man b y bi rt h, w h ose name i s-var i o e written by the biographers of Loyola, but his great virtu e sad discretion are nn minion-1y landed. To this c onfei i r he imparted also th e i n t ent i ons w hi c h h e h a d formed, as,, being roulirmed in them by his approbation, lie diveste' hiois,lf now of his last w , rldly possessions, giving th : 11 mule, .m whichhe hal ridden. to the c onven t, and m ,n.y to the poor. Th? sword and dagg e r whi c h be ha ti us:al in war, when he gained his woritils honours, het . . . . sio‘p,tided bef,re thr Virgin's a't..r as the offerinza of on e who ream now- with far other weapons to prosecute a toots , ardtmum war fire. A further ceremony remained to b t l perf , rrned. Having put. on the dress whirl, he had o' 6 'l pared, he went out in the dumk, and gave his former gftr! in nts to a !lei:gar ; then returned to the church, spirituill ;Is:m.4 the customs of chivalry, there to watch before ti' d atar, like a new made knight, sometimes kneeling, B "r' thous standing, hut eontinradly etrivrged in sortie stet pf vot'on, oral or mental, to his Virginn patroness, tni fr" day look.. As soon as it was light he ref off for Manresi) here-headed, and th e one foot bare ; the other was shod' because the leg which had been so Fe rerely treated raptor" some rare ; it was we .k, and still bandaged, and was alw3i 9 swoln at oight.l!--- -•-• - We have no time to analyzc the remaining. articles in thi'i number; we Must, therefore , content ourselves with the remark that diet fully sustain the high character of the Foreign Review. The CHILDREN'S INTRODUCTORY BOOK to the FRENCH LANGUAGE.—By J. V. DOUVILLE. LONDON, 1830. The extraordinary and well-merited streccs s ! of " The Speaking French Grammar," by 0) Douville—a work which we were among th e l first to recommend to public attention, is edit' self a sufficient guarantee, that the "Children c° , Introductory Book to the French Language is every thing that a pupil would like, and parent desire, fur aciuiring an easy but sure 'mole ledge of the first principles of a language spokef'l over all Europe. It reflects no small credit ' 9o ' Mr. Douville that the success of his . excelle" l , Grammar should only stimulate his exer tions yet more to smooth the .difficultieg' and to simplify the principles, of a languag e rendered already so familiar ; for in his presen t work the interest of his pupils must have 'bee° the first incentive, and fame or profit but a se' condary consideration. In his preface he says*" igMy principal object in composing and arranging the'se introductory lessons has been to irive children trouble, and parents expence. I have, therefore, collected together , is the small compass of nineteen lessons, the principal rues of the French language. Ts each lesson is annexe , ' colloquial essay in English, which is to be construed le ° French by the pupil ; and every essay is stioceeded. by reading lesson in French, of which the most diffictO words arc given in English at the bottom of the rige' In the composition of tl'e essays and lessons, I have take' care to introduce only such expressions as are cornavit i f used by children of between six and ten years of age." We hare carefully examined the manner 111 which the a b ove i s execute d, an d we can . ss fe'l Y recommend this little book for children----it would even be found useful by their parents. FINE ARTS. F. HOWARD'S ILLUSTRATIONS OF SHAK SPEARE.—LoaDON, 1830. To illustrate Shakspeare characteristically. the pencils of at least a dozen of our ablest mode"' artists are requisite. Ve require a Danby to give due effect to the fairy scenery and character o:* the " Midsummer Night's. Dream;" a Wilkie or perhaps a Cruickshank to pourtray the mid' night carousals at the Boar's Head, of Falstaff aid his motley crew; a Martin to deepen the mysterious and romantic gloom of the " Tem' pest" and its enchanted island; a Beechey to de justice to the loveliness of Juliet, of Imogen, d Desdcmona; a Haydon to paint the strong pas' sions of an Othello, or the remorse of a Macbeth ; a Hoffla.nd to immortalizg t the rich sylvan scenery of the forest el Amiens and its graceful pastoral tenants ; nod a vast variety of other artists to illustrate with appropriate spirit the clouded temperament of , Hamlet, the misanthropy of a Timon, the pe trician dignity of a Coriolanus, the tiger-like ferocity of a Richard, or the shrewd cold-blooded villainy of an Ingo. How truly is Shakspear° styled the myriad-minded ! Of what other write in this or any language, ancient or modern, cat' it be said that his genius is singly sufficient to monopolize the abilities of half the artists of the age ? Mr. Howard, therefore, when be undertook of himself to illustrate our great nty tional bard, undertook a 'task of tremendous difficulty. It is hut fair, ,however, to add, that considering all circumstances, be has acquitted himself with great success : if he has failed in adequately pourtraying the peculiar humour or Falstaff, or an " ancient Pistol ;" the sylvn° sketches and heroic characters of Shakspear° have lost nothing in his hands. His present illustrations of Romeo and Julie4and Timos of Athens, are conceived and executed ^ in spirit worthy of some of our best artists. Th° romantic, confiding character of Juliet—th e headlong impetuosity of Tybalt—and in Timon of Athens especially—the immitigable rrtisan' thropy of the chief character, are so neatly and distinctly preserved, that they need no commen t from the text to explain them: He_who . ruti e may read ; and this, notwithstanding hii nurneroO e excellencies of grouping and expression, is per haps the true secret of Mr. Howard's success. NVe understand that Lady BYRON is about t ° puldish a reply to the memoirs of Mr. THOMA Mooe' vindicating her family from any undue interferenee in tlO conjugal differences existing between herself and her / 01° Lord. Observer. .• reiiIo":" I t be is tale rte A new novel, entitled " Walter Colytonf ,f7:11%.in the u the e c ours e . e Mr. of A present S n: T ll R n ' th the Court of JA VIES 11. Among the characters who W e a prominent plies., besides the KING himself and his tl ve daughters, aftrrwords Queen MARY and A l .: Kr , are Lo r d and Lady SUNDER LAND, the Duchess of Posigassool f / Sir CHARLES SEDLET and his Daughter, the 'Countess DORCHESTER, Count G R AMNION r, the Princetif OstattO DRYDEN, SHADWELL, ALGERNON STONEY, kc., Ece. GERTRUDE.—The forthcoming, ~RomanCe tinder this title is, it appears, a tale of the reign filitini; Ivd of Franee. Among ether historical personages ititsminc e 0 into the story, besides the. heroine, Gs:A.l.lunit, Coelit e9 de Fontensyne, we understand, are CAT/leant! de ; 11° i• owls, Sui.x.r (then M. de Rosx T ), th e Prince ° f Cora, the Duke de Guise., Admiral de Comistsify 10 . * A 1 %,' GUERITE de VALots, &c. , It is th e prodiWtion of .a Lad/. . of. rauk, who, wording to custom, chooses (for, theff . sent at least,) to remiin incognita. ._:. .. • Aro. ' olan k't•lle• Rank Cana: Gov. Ditto 4 Pcr Onv. Royal (Ity Rath: Arrl, Morn P.Nc give of Rh to L t defti n the e izst -- - .-_ ~_ -` have now Der whi( mor reap, appal they thei pron tain of 4 advi' Unr to tb .prep to th the e liberi Prim it w addr answ aPP O tion near whit; befor next. repoi one anotl the ti ever, coin? hop. Liber ireite ra tire Iv{ The Exit ) , fox e d fr om Rahn ) meat peril; the ' rafts, troop giVen ininu enga€ re t( by th 9 Q , f fi fqh 1 :" 1 ! ( 1 k • thllt dt lay • the 4) ill