The Sun.
London, England, 1841-05-03 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

SIR WALTER SCOTT'S POETRY.
Caaell, London, 1841
The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott have
been hitherto inaccessible to a numerous class of
readers, in consequence of their being published
in not fewer than twelve volumes ; we here find
them,- however, comprised for the first time in
one octavo volume, which contains, besides, all
the author's latest prefaces and introductions, to-
gether with a variety of useful notes which were
appended by the Editor, Mr. Lockhart, to the
edition of 1832. The volume, considering the
uncommon elegance and distinctness of its type,
and the very superior manner in which it is got
up—apparently, without the slightest regard to
expense—can scarcely fail to drive all its prede-
cessors out of the market, and reimburse Mr.
Cadell for the heavy outlay to which it must
have subjected him. Twenty years ago the
poem of " Marmion" alone could not have been
procured for a less sum than twelve shillings;
but now, the entire poetry of Sir Walter Scott,
including even his minor poems, and those beau-
tiful little gems which are scattered throughout
his unrivalled novels, may be purchased fbr one
guinea! Verily, if this be not cheap literature,
we know not the meaning of the term! The vo-
lume is embellished, by way of frontispiece, with
Raeburn's celebrated full-length portrait of the
illustrious Baronet, and also with a picturesque
view of his favourite country-seat, Abbotsford,
admirably engraved by Miller, from one of Tur-
ner's masterly designs.

SELECTIONS FROM THE DESPATCHES
AND GENERAL ORDERS OF THE DUICE
OF WELLINGTON.
Murray, London, 1841.
" The Despatches of the Duke of Wellington,"
says Colonel Gurwood, in his preface to this vo-
lume, " have been published ; but the expense
of the work has placed it beyond the reach of
many persons anxious to possess it. The com-
piler has, in consequence, made a selection from
them, that may extend to a larger sphere of
readers." This selection, as far as we can judge,
has been made with tact and judgment; none of
his Grace's Despatches on affairs of moment
have been omitted, but those only have been
curtailed—or, rather, left out—which possessed
little or no decided public interest or value. ' As
the volume contains an immense mass of miscel-
laneous matter, a copious index has been pre-
fixed to it, so that the reader may turn at once,
without being compelled to wade through the
whole contents, to whatever particular fact he
may be anxious to know, on the subject of his
Grace's numerous campaigns. The work, inde-
pendently of its value as an authentic record of
great national achievements, possesses exceeding
interest as giving us some insight into the pecu-
liar structure of the Duke of Wellington's mind.
We read the leading traits of his character as dis-
tinctly in his Despatches, as we read those of
Napoleon in his Bulletins. Throughout them
his Grace shows himself a man of calm, far-
sighted sagacity ; of strict, methodical business
habits; confident—but not unduly so—in his
own mental resources; patient under reverses ;
quick to profit by opportunity ; a judicious, rather
than a brilliant, commander; severe in his no-
tions of discipline ; and never depressed or
daunted by whatever difficulties may oppose
themselves to his projects. Napoleon, in his
Bulletins, appears in many respects quite the re-
verse. Instead of a calm, business-like state-
ment of facts, he indulges in gross fictions; be-
trays frequent spleen and irritability ; vaunts
and swaggers to a most ridiculous extent ; and
indulges in such bombastic rhetoric, as the so-
berer judgment of his illustrious rival would re-
ject with disdain. The equable tenour of the
Duke of Wellington's mind, which never allows
itself to be warmed into enthusiasm, is no where
more conspicuous than in his Despatches dated
the morning after the battle of Waterloo.
Though he had achieved, but a few short hours
before, the greatest and most decisive victory re-
corded in modern history, and over the most re-
nowned warrior of the age--or indeed of any
age—he betrays nothing- like exultation, but
shows himself as cool and collected in his state-
ments as if he were detailing the merest com-
mon-place exploit. Occasionally he exhibits
somethinc, like sensibility, as when writing to the
Duke of' Beaufort to acquaint him that his
brother has been severely wounded in the con-
flict, he says—" The losses I have sustained have
quite broken me down, and I have no feeling for
the advantages we have gained;" but, generally
speaking, his Despatches on this glorious occa-
sion, are remarkable for nothing so much as
their cold, laconic, and methodical character.
Nevertheless, we have read them throughout
with the deepest interest, and so will all who
know how to set a proper value on the produc-
tions of a mind of a high and rare order.

LIFE OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.
PART xa Bailey, London. 1841.
With this Part Mr. Maxwell closes his Life
of the Duke of Wellington, which—as we have
more than once taken occasion to observe—is the
fullest, and apparently the most authentic that
has yet issued from the press. The Part com-
mences with an account of the battle of Tou-
louse—a conflict as useless as it was sanguinary,
since Napoleon had abdicated the throne of
France, some days previously to its having been
fought; and closes with the crowning victory at
Waterloo, which the biographer—who has Min-
self been a soldier—describes with infinite gra-
phic vigour. The Part is illustrated with two
plans of the battle-field; an engraving, from a
spirited design by Cooper, of the last grand
charge of the Guards upon the dispirited French
troops; and a full-length portrait of the Duke of
Wellington, in the attire of a private gentleman,
who is represented as just entering the House of
Lords. This portrait is a good likeness—that is
to say, the features can at once be recognised ;
but the expression of the countenance is much
too grim. We suppose it was taken at that pe-
riod so disheartening to the Tories, when the Re-
form Bill was under discussion in Parliament;
and if so, the dismal cut of the Ducal phiz is at
once to be accounted for. Mr. Maxwell termi-
nates his biography with a comparison between
Napoleon and Wellington, which we subjoin, for
it is penned in a discriminating and impartial
Fpirit :
In estimating the military talents of Napoleon and Welling..
ton—for to compare either with any other commander of the
age would be absurd—to the former, a superiority has been
generally conceded for the decision with which he followed up
a defeat, and the important consequences which always were
attendant on his victories. Both were admitted to have pos-
sessed an inimitable skill in handling masses of men, with the
same facility that ordinary commanders directed the move-
ments of a brigade. Their combinations were beautiful—
their conceptions grand—they were not the laboured efforts
of military art, but the outbreakings of military genius—
formed in a moment—executed as rapidly—changed, should
circumstances require, and adapted to meet the emergency that
might arise. If Wellington did not push his victories to grand
results, let us inquire the causes; and when Napoleon's mili-
tary improvisation is declared unequalled, let us see how far
Wellington's was behind.
The circumstances under which these two great com-
manders conducted their campaigns, were different ; for Na-
poleon had never Wellington's difficulties to contend with. The
former was a free agent. His battles were delivered to clear
away obstacles that impeded an advance, while Wellington's
were generally received to enable him to maintain a position in
the country. Napoleon, when victorious, had always the
means in hand to push his success, and secure the fruits of
conquest. - Wellington's battles were frequently defensive ;
and the heavy repulses which masterly combinations enabled
him to inflict, were unadorned with the trophies which accom-
pany a bold advance ; and often his most brilliant fields were
followed by regressive movements, which always follow a de-
feat and rarely attend on victory.
That Wellington possessed within himself the rapid re-
sources and daring confidence which mark a great commander,
his conduct when placed in dangerous positions, or at the crisis
of a doubtful day, will best establish. What operations could
be more masterly than his retreat across the Tagus, or his ad-
vance across the Douro? What act more daring than to hold
the height of Guinaldo with two weak divisions, within can-
non-shot of an army strong enough not to defeat, but to anni-
hilate him? Look at the sudden ruin inflicted on Marmont at
Salamanca—the seizure of Arinez—the counter-stroke at Sau-
roren. Follow the footsteps of the peninsular army from Rolica
to Toulouse. Commence his history at Assaye, and close it on
the night at Waterloo. Test his military character by his acts—
let him then dispute the palm with Napoleon—and who will
pronounce him second to any General of the age?

JOAN OF ARC. 3 VoLs.
Colburn, London, 1841.
We have read this tale—for which we are in-
debted to the pen of Mr. Serle, the dramatist—
with as much avidity as some years ago we read
Dr. Southey's poem on the same exciting sub-
ject. Like that highly-wrought work of genius,
it abounds in impassioned scenes ; local descrip-
tions characterised by infinite truth of detail;
and incidents which, startling and romantic as
they are, all wear the impress of probability.
Mr. Serle has shown great good sense and judg-
ment in adhering, as far as was in accordance
with the purposes of fiction, to historical truth in
his narrative ; his outline is scrupulously founded
on fact; it is in the filling up only, and that not
often, that he has availed himself of the privi-
leges of the novelist. Nothing can be juster, or
in better historical keeping, than his full-length
portrait of the enthusiastic, high-minded " Maid
of Orleans." He pourtrays her just as she has
been handed down to us by the traditions of the
time—patriotic, imaginative, religious almost to
fanaticism, and overcoming fbrmidable obstacles
by sheer force of will, and unbounded confi-
dence in her own mental and physical energies.
The scene where Joan is first introduced to the
King of France; her behaviour at the san-
guinary conflict before the city of Orleans; her
youthful fancies and prophetic reveries ; and her
final capture, trial, and death, by order of the
English commander, under the persuasion that

she was in league with evil spirits ;—all these
various incidents are described with a dramatic
vigour worthy of the most striking scenes in the
author's play of the -6' Merchant of London."
The only defect we find in the present romance
is, that the heroine, Joan, is not brought soon
enough on the tapis ; she is scarcely heard of till
towards the close of the first volume, the earlier
portions of which are, in consequence, somewhat
tedious, ,notwithstandinc, that we have an ani-
mated account—too much protracted, however—
of the siege of Orleans by the English army
under the command of the Earl of Salisbury.
The story is supposed to be recited by an old
Frenchman, Jacques Alain, who was in the first
flush of manhood when the circumstances re-
corded took place.

THOMPSON'S POEMS AND PLAYS.
Smith, London, 1841.

In addition to his popular " Seasons," we have
.sere Thompson's tragedies; his " Castle of In-
dolence"—decidedly his chef d'oeuvre; and his
declamatory and somewhat prosy poem on
" Liberty," which, though it found special fa-
vour in his own partial eyes, was but coldly re-
ceived by the public, and is now all but liwg4t-
ten. We do not wonder at this, for Thompson
was ill-qualified to write on such a theme. His
Muse was far too indolent and good-natured to
cliaunt, with becoming fervour, the praises of
Freedom, and those who had fought and died in
its defence; and could not muster up active
energy enough to anathematize Tyranny and
tyrants, in the way best suited to make an im-
pression on the reader. Thompson's tragedies
are failures, for pretty nearly the same reason.
They are devoid equally of passion and pathos,
substituting for these main requisites, without
which the drama is a mere caput mortunnz, ver-
bose, declamatory dialogues, wherein it seems to
be the chief object of the different speakers to
vie with each other in loquacity. " Tancred and
Sigismunda" is the best ; but even here, the ac-
tion is languid throughout, like the long, mono-
tonous course of a Dutch canal; and the charac-
ters have nothing of "mark or likelihood" to
recommend them. They are eloquent gene-
ralities, nothing more. Yet there are several
beautiful touches of poetry scattered throughout
Thompson's dramatic productions—as, for in-
stance, in his •' Agamemnon," where Areas de-
scribes to his friend Melisander the desert island
on which he had been left at midnight by order
of Egisthus ; but these are, or should be. minor
considerations with a tragic poet, whose first at-
tention should be devoted to character, and
whose next care should be for action. Of the
well-known " Seasons" we need say nothing, for
the poem has already taken its station, and de-
servedly so, as the best of its kind in the lan-
guage. The present edition is cheap, elegant,
and as complete as it is possible to be, for it con-
tains every scrap, in the shape of verses, that
Thompson over penned.

CRABBE'S TALES.
Smith, London, 1841.
This is another of Smith's compendious repub-
lications, and contains some of Crabbe's best
poems. Among them we find, his " Patron,"
which was a great favourite with Sir Walter
Scott; and should be got by heart—for the use-
ful lesson it conveys—by every aspiring youth
of genius, who thinks that his talents alone are
sufficient to raise him above all the stormy vicis-
situdes tof life. In this impressive poem it is
manifest in every line that Crabbe drew from
his own personal experience.

REGULUS—A TRAGEDY.
Miller, London, 1841.
We learn by the title-page that the author of
this play, Mr. Jacob Jones, is the same gentleman
to whom we are indebted for " Spartacus"—a
tragedy which contains some spirited scenes, and
exhibits in places poetic as well as dramatic ex-
cellence. We cannot, we fear, say so much fbr
his present performance. It is, in truth, a very
so-so affair, abounding in dialogues whose lan-
guage is specially ridiculous and extravagant,
and in incidents which seem put together without
the slightest regard to propriety. We subjoin a
brief, hasty sketch of the plot. The play opens
with a conversation on the Exchange of Carthage
between several merchants, from which it ap-
pears that the leading commercial man of that
city, one.llives, has had some ships taken by the
Romans, which he, is of course, anxious to have
restored to him. Accordingly, he applies to
Regulus, who is at the time confined in a Car-
thaginian dungeon, and offers to allow him to
return to Rome, if he will exert his influence to
negotiate a peace between the rival cities. Pre-
viously, however, to this interview, a remarkable,
andsomewhat desultory, conversation,which leads
to no result, takes place between two of the sub-
ordinate characters, Parocles and Phylas, re-
specting the murder of Asdrubal, the Cartha-
ginian General, who has been crucified by order
of Dives, for having been unfortunate in a recent
engagement with the enemy. Alluding to this
painful theme, Parocles observes,
" This is no time to laugh, or I could roar;"
whereupon, Vulpex, a soldier and a comical sort
of a fellow, who just then enters with a huge
flask of wine in his hand, abruptly bursts forth
in the following highly poetic style :
"I am brave always, but when fierce with wile,
I could flog Hercules, and ride the Sphynx !"
The reply of Phylas to this lively remark is ap-
propriate and emphatic in a high degree—
" I tell thee there's a ghost—l cannot drink!"
This refusal greatly annoys the anti-tee-total
Vulpex, who instantly addresses himself to the
supposed apparition, observing;,
" tombless Shade !
Come and get drunk with us!"
After some further sprightly conversation on
various matters of business, &c., between this
bright couple, they each drink the following
philanthropic toast :
VuLrEx—Here's suffocation to all gaolers—drink.
PHI' LA s—Here's to all gaolers.
VuLP EX— Suffo—suffocat ion.
PRY LAS—Suffo—suffo-cation.
VULPEX—WeII done !"
The scene shortly afterwards changes to the
chamber of the Supreme Council, where Dives
and the other Carthaginian Elders are assembled
in solemn conclave, to decide upon the fate of
some prisoners. One Elder beneficently says—
" Let them have their choice, •
We'll flay them or impale;"
to which Dives replies, with uncommon felicity,
" Perplexing scheme 1
A puzzling choice !"
We are now transported to the walls of Rome,
where Regulus has arrived, Dives hoping, by his
powerful influence, to get back his captured
ships. The news of the great Roman's return
soon spreads throughout the city, and his wife
and his younger children are, in consequence, all
as frisky as kittens. The former, turning to one
of the latter, remarks—
"We will not sleep to-night ; your sip will watch."
The child thus addressed makes answer in these
exact terms, which shows how singularly preco-
cious in intellect some children are—
" And poor old nurse will snore."
A few minutes afterwards, we find Regulus's
eldest son describing the joy of the citizens at his
father's restoration, in language eminently ori-
ginal and beautiful. We quote this descriptive

gem :
" The youths and maidens in the Forum dance ;
The children climb, and clap their little hands ;
The mothers venture with their babes at breast ;
I picked a cripple from the Ares: myself,
And heaved him to a niche ; anen, his crutch
Thumped on our shoulders !"
To say nothing of the exquisite happiness of the
expression, " picked 'a cripple"—just as if the
speaker had been picking a gooseberry—what
a humiliating idea does not this passage convey
to us of the flagrant ingratitude of humanity !
Here we find a young lad " picking" a cripple
from the crowd, and " heaving' him for safety to
a niche ; and how is he rewarded for such benevo-
lence ? By the scamp anointing his philanthropic
shoulders with a crutch ! Shameful! Had the New
Police Act been in force then, the fellow would
have been carried instantly to the station-house;
and might have considered himself lucky in get-
ting off with a month at Brixton! The tragedy
now hurries towards a close. Regulus, on being
ushered—together with Dives, who had accom-
panied him from Carthage—into the presence of
the Roman Senators, advises them not to make
peace, but vigorously to pursue the war; which
so enrages Dives, who in consequence finds him-
self done out of his ships, that he insists on
the illustrious Roman going back to Quod,
which the latter heroically agrees to, and the
drama closes with his death, and that also of his
tormentor! In the above hurried sketch, we
have given merely a slight outline of the tragedy,
which is altogether unworthy of its author, whose
" Spartacus" really showed some promise, and
was deservedly successful on its representation at
the Bath theatre.

A CONTROVERSIAL DISCUSSION.
Andrews, London, 1641.
We have here an authenticated Report of a
Controversial Discussion that took place about a
year and a half ago in the British School-room
at Harr►mersmith, between the Rev. John Cum-
ming and Mr. Daniel French, a Catholic barris-
ter, on the subject of some of the leading tenets
in their respective religions. We cannot say we
approve of these public discussions on mat-
ters of faith, for they rarely produce con-
viction, and not unfrequently tend to un-
settle men's minds. On the present occasion—
as indeed on almost every one of the sort we
have ever heard or read of—neither of the dis-
putants was satisfied with the other's arguments,