The Sun.
London, England, 1844-07-30 00:00:00

LITERAT URE.

HISTORIC FANCIES. Colburn, London, 1844.
The spirit that pervades this volume, the prose as
well as the poetical portion of it, is of a most catholic
and tolerant character ; indeed the author, in some
instances, pushes his love of toleration to excess,
which in the discussion of historical matters is a fault
that should be as seduously guarded against as an
indulgence in the antagonist quality, for truth never
lies in extremes, but is always found in the mean.
The work is evidently the production of a young
writer, thoughtful, ardent, and well-informed, and
amid much that is brilliant in expression and gene-
rous in sentiment, contains also much that is erro-
neous in opinion and exaggerated in the portraiture
of character. Thus, speaking of the favourite policy
of Cardinals Richelieu and Mazarin, Mr. Smythe
says :—" Upon his attaining the Ministry, Richelieu
found the King only the first of his nobles. He resolved
to makehimsomethingmore. He undertook to concen-
trate all the power which he saw dissipated amongmany
great feudatories and lords. His policy was to
confound and equalize all classes below the King. But
not satisfied to dedicate his own life to this object, he
devolved his power upon his successor, Mazarin, whom
he himself had formed, who was instigated by the
same motives, and who sprung, like himself, from the
Democracy ; inherited, with instinctive zeal, his
hatred and his views of the Aristocracy. But the sa-
gacious policy of the Cardinals was not destined to be
continued by the great king whom they had made.
He took pains in nothing so much as in rebuilding
what they had pulled down, in raising up what they
had so skilfully destroyed." Surely this is a very
erroneous view of the policy of Louis the Fourteenth!
So far was this sagacious monarch from opposing
himself to the system of Richelieu and Mazarin, that
he carried it out to its fullest extent, for
while he gratified his noblesse by showy pri-
vileges and courtly marks of esteem, he took care
to deprive them of all substantial power, and reduced
them to the most abject state of dependence on his
arbitrary will. It was not by destrtying, but by
rigidly following up the political system of the Car-
dinals, that he was enabled with perfect truth to make
that memorable boast, " L'etat c'est moi !" Never,
m the whole history of France, were the aristocracy
with all their pompous titles and imposing wealth,
such mere impotent shadows, as during the long reign
of the Grande Monarque. In a clever, brilliant sketch
of Mirabeau—who, however, is rated infinitely beyond
his deserts—our author takes occasion to remark that
Casimir Perier, the leading statesman of the year
1831, possessed " an energy and a genius only in-
ferior to Mirabeau's." This is high praise, but as-
suredly it is not warranted by facts. The French
Minister was a man of fierce impatience and un-
bounded pride—arrogant, egotistical, and determined ;
but he wanted the comprehensive views, the practical
sagacity, the impassioned eloquence, and dauntless
intrepidity of the great leader of the Revolution, while
as regards " genius," he had not an atom of it in his
composition. He was the mere mouth-piece of the
Bourgeoisie—the congenial advocate of their narrow,
selfish theories of legislation, and died a victim to
chagrin at his inability to control a movement which
ha could not comprehend. In his biographical
sketches of Couthon and St. Just, Mr. Smythe, ap-
parently from a desire to be thought original in his
opinions, takes far too liberal a view of the character
of these two Republicans. So far.was the former
from having anything of a " Roman of free Rome"
about him, that he was wholly made up of artifice
and plausibility—a twaddling, maudlin sentimen-
talist, who could shed tears over his lap-dog,
while with a dry eye he daily consigned scores
of his countrymen to the scaffold. As for St.
Just, he was a hard, merciless, pedantic dogmatist,
an advocate of principles of which he had never On-
sidered the tendency ; cruel from want of human
sympathies ; and " lofty"—as our author assures us 'he
was—only in his sublime self-conceit. That he was
" intrepid" we will not venture to deny ; but his was
not moral courage—the noble feeling that sustained
Vergniaud and the other Girondists in the last
memorable night of their existence—but the brute
courage of the bull-dog, originating solely in the
utter absence of imagination and the finer instincts of
our nature. The truth is, that with a few rare ex-
ceptions—such as Mirabeau, Roland, Carnot, Verg-
niaud, and perhaps Danton—the whole of the French
Revolutionary chiefs were a set of unmitigated
quacks and vagabonds, who had talent enough. to
enable them to pull down a vicious system, but were
destitute of the political sagacity requisite to con-
struct an enlightened one on the ruins. As, on the
whole, we prefer Mr. Smythe's poetry to his prqse,
we shall confine ourselves to an extract from his beau-
tiful poem entitled "Mary Stuart's Last Prayer
:"--
A lonely mourner kneels in prayer before the Virgin's fane,
With white hands crossed for Jesu's sake, so her prayer may
be vain.
Wan is her cheek, and very pale—her voice is low and faint—
And tears are in her eyes, the while she makes her humble
plaint.
O little could you deem, from her sad and lowly mein,
That she was once the Bride of France, and still was Scot-
land's Queen.
0, Mary Mother!—Mary Mother !—be my help and stay. !
Be with me still, as thou bast been, and strengthen me to. day I
For many a time, with heavy heart, all weary of its grief,
I solace sought, in thy blest thought, and ever found relief:
For thou, too, wert a Queen on earth,—and men were harsh
to thee!
And cruel things and rude, they said,—as they have said of
me I

0, Gentlemen of Scotland! 0, Cavaliers of France !
How each and all had grasped his sword, and seized his an-
gry lance,
If.Ladye love, or sister dear, or noarer dearer bride,
Had been, like me, your friendless Liege, insulted and belied !
But these are sinful thoughts, and sad,—l should not mind

me now,
Of faith forsworn, or broken pledge, or false or fruitless vow

But rather pray—sweet Mary—my sins may be forgiven I
And less severe than on the earth, my Judges prove in heaven.
For stern and solemn men have said—' God's vengeance will
be shown,'—
And fearful will the penance be,—on the sins which I have
done!
And yet, albeit my sins be great—Oh Mary, Mary dear !
Nor to Knox, nor to false Moray, the Judge will then give
ear I

Yes I it was wrong and thoughtless, when first I came from
France,
To lead courante, or minuet, or lighter, gayer dance.
Yes—it was wrong and thoughtless,—to while whole hours
away
In dark and gloomy Holyrood, with some Italian lay.
Dark men would scoul their hate at me, and I have heard
them tell,
How the Just Lord God of Israel had striken Jezebel.

!tut thou—dear Mary—Mary mine ! hast ever looked the same,
With pleasant mien, and smile serene, on her who bore thy
name ;
Oh, grant that, when anon I go to death ! I may not see
Nor axe, nor block, norheadsman,—but Thee, and only Thee!
Then, 'twill be told, in coming times, how Mary gave her
grace
To die, as Stuart, Guise, should die—of Charlemagne's fear-
less race.

FACTS AND FICTIONS, 3 Vols.
Allen, London, 1844.

In these light and amusing volumes, which are the
production of Mrs. Postans, we have a series of prose
sketches illustrative of oriental character, scenery, and
manners. The authoress writes vividly, because she
writes from her own personal recollections of British
India ; and in one of her sketches, entitled " A Tale
of the Phansigars," gives an interesting account of a
young Indian girl and her attendants, in company
with a party of notorious Thugs, whom she . had
encountered on the road, and accepted as an escort,
supposing that they were a travelling company of
native merchants. The denouement of this tale,
though somewhat abrupt, is brought about in a very
exciting manner. The " Emperor's Grave " is a
sketchy description of Longwood and the tomb of
Napoleon, at St. Helena; but these have been de-
scribed so often, and so circumstantially, that the
subject is quite an exhausted one, and will not admit
of repetition.

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