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serve in their intercourse with the people, are not | In short, the friends of Gene ia, amo.go: r rodein by any means at variance with the assertion; for English travellers, are not numerous-though they that external simplicity and affability to interiors is

are select.

These last distinguished themselves one of ihe characteristics of the aristocratic governo during the late hard winter by their bounty to the ment; all assumption of superiority being carefully poor-not the poor of Geneva, who were sufficiently avoided when real authority is not in question assisted by their richer countrymen, but those of Zurich suggests the idea of a municipal aristocracy; Savoy, who were literally starving. If English Berne of a warlike one : there, we think we see travellers no longer appear in the saine light as forcitizens of a town transformed into nobility; here merly, it is because it is not the same class of peo. pobles who have made themselves citizens.

ple who

abroad, but all classes,--and not the best Vol. i. pp. 213—217.* of all classes, either. They know this 100, and say

it themselves; they feel the ridicule of their enorBut we must now hasten from the Physical

mous numbers, and of the absurd conduct of many wonders of this country to some of the author's of them. They are ashamed and provoked ; describe Moral observations; and we are tempted to it with the most pointed irony, and tell many a hugive the first place to his unsparing but dis- morous story against themselves. Formerly, the passionate remarks on the character of modern travelling class was composed of young men of English travellers. At Geneva, he observes, after leaving the University, went the tour of the

good family and fortune, just coming of age, who, "English travellers swarm here, as everywhere Continent under the guidance of a learned tutor, else; but they do not mix with the society of the often a very distinguished man, or of men of the country more than they do elsewhere, and seem to same class, at a more advanced age, with their like it even less. The people of Geneva, on the families, who, after many years spent in professional other hand, say, “Their former friends, the English, duties at home, came to visit again the countries are so changed they scarcely know them again. they had seen in their youth, and the friends they They used to be a plain downrighe race, in whom a had known there. In those beller times, when no certain degree of sauvagerie (oddity and shyness) Englishman left his country either to seek his foronly served to set off the advantages of a highly tune, to save money, or to hide himself; when culiivated understanding, of a liberal mind, and travellers of that nation were all very rich or very generous temper, which characterised them in gen. learned; of high birih, yet liberal principles; uneral. Their young men were often rather wild, but bounded in their generosity, and with means equal soon reformed, and became like their fathers. In to the inclination, their bigh standing in the world stead of this, we now see (they say) a mixed assem. might well be accounted for; and it is a great pity blage, of whom lamentably few possess any of those they should have lost it. Were I an Englishman. qualities we were wont to admire in their predeces- I would not set out on my travels until the new sors. Their former shyness and reserve is changed fashion were over.”—Vol. i. pp. 356—359. to disdain and rudeness. If you seek these modern At Schaffhausen, again, he observes, English, they keep aloof, do not mix in conversation, and seem to laugh at you. Their conduct, " There were other admirers here besides ourstill more strange and unaccountable in regard 10 selves; some English, and more Germans, who each other, is indicative of contempt or suspicion. furnished us with an opportunity of comparing the Studiously avoiding to exchange a word with their difference of national manners. Î'he former, divided countrymen, one would suppose they expected 10 into groups, carefully avoiding any communication find a sharper in every individual of their own na- with each other still more than with ihe foreigners. tion, not particularly introduced, -or at best a per- never exchanged a word, and scarcely a look, wib son beneath them. Accordingly you cannot vex or any but the legitimate interlocutors of iheir own set; displease them more iban by inviiing other English women adhering more particularly to the rule--from Travellers to meet thein, whom they may be com- native reserve and iimidiry, full as much as from pelled afterwards to acknowledge. If they do not pride or from extreme good breeding. Some of the find a crowd, they are tired. If you speak of ile ladies here might be Scotch ; at least they wore the old English you formerly knew, that was before the national colours, and we overheard them drawing Flood? If you talk of books, it is pedantry, and comparisons between what we had under our eyes they yawn; of politics, they run wild about Bona. and Coralyn; giving justly enough, the preference parte! Dancing is the only thing which is sure to 10 the Clyde ; but, at any rate, they bebaved a please them. At the sound of the fiddle, the think. 11° Anglaise. The German ladies, on ihe contrary, ing nation starts up at once. Their young people contrived to lier conversation in indifferent French. are adepts in the art; and take pains to become so, With genuine simplicity, wholly unconscious of tor. spending half their time with the dancing master wardness, although it might undoubtedly have been You may know the houses where they live by the so qualified in England, they begged of my friend scraping of ihe fiddle, and shaking of the floor, to let them hear a few words in English, just to which Jisturbs their neighbours. Few bring letters; know the sound, to which they were strangers. 11 and yet they complain they are neglecied by the we are to judge of the respective merits of these good company, and cheated by innkeepers. The opposite manners, by the impression they leave. I Jarter, accustomed to the Milords Anglais of former think the question is already decided by the English times, or at least having heard of them, think they against themselves. Yet, at the same time that they may charge accordingly; but only find des Anglais blame and deride their own proud reserve, and pour rire, who bargain at the door, before they ven- would depart from it if ihey well knew how, but a sure to come in. for the leg of mutton and bottle of few have ihe courage to venture :--and I really be wine, on which they mean 10 dine!'

lieve they are the best bred, who thus allow them“ Placed as I am between the two parties. I hear selves to be good-humoured and vulgar." young Englishmen repeat, what they have heard in

Vol. i. pp. 94, 95. France, that the Genevans are cold, selfish, and interested, and their women des précieuses ridicules,

We have not much to say in desence of the very milliners and mantua-makers giving them. our countrymen-but what may be said truly, selves airs of modesty and deep reading! that there ought not to be suppressed. That our travel. is no opera, por théâtre des variétés; in short, that lers are now generally of a lower rank than Geneva is the dullest place in the world. Some formerly, and that not very many of them are say it is but a bad copy of England. a sham republic; fitted, either by their wealth or breeding, to and a scientific, no less than a political, counterfeit. uphold the character of the noble and honour,

Many travelling details, and particular de able persons who once almost monopolised scriptions, are here omitted.

the advantages of foreign travel, is of course

implied in the fact of their having become after this period, confined to the hildren of vastly more numerous, - without supposing the gentry; and a certain parade in equipage any actual degeneracy in the nation itself. and dress, which could not be easily assumed At a very popular point of M. Simond's jour- but by the opulent, nor naturally carried but ney, it appeared from a register which he by those who had been long accustomed to consulted, that the proportion of travellers it

, threw additional difficulties in the way from different countries, was twenty-eight of those who wished to push themselves forEnglish to four Prussians, two Dutch, tive ward in society, and rendered any other bulFrench, one Italian, and three Americans.- warks unnecessary for the protection of the That some of this great crowd of emigrants sanctuary of fashion. might not be suitable associates for some From the time of Sir Robert Walpole, howothers, may easily be conjectured—and that ever, the communication between the higher the better sort may not have been very wil. and the lower orders became far more open ling to fraternise with those who did least and easy. Commercial wealth and enterprise honour to their common country, could scarce- were prodigiously extended – literature and ly be imputed to them as a fault. But these intelligence spread with unprecedented raconsiderations, we fear, will go but a little way pidity among the body of the people ; and to explain the phenomenon; or to account for ihe increased intercourse between the differ. the “Morgue Aristocratique,” as Bonaparte ent parts of the country, naturally produced called it, of the English gentry-the sort of a greater mixture of the different classes of sulky and contemptuous reserve with which, the people. This was followed by a general both at home and abroad, almost all who have relaxation in those costly external observances, any pretensions to bon ton seem to think it by which persons of condition had till then necessary to defend those pretensions. The been distinguished. Ladies laid aside their thing has undoubtedly been carried, of late hoops, trains, and elaborate head-dresses; and years, to an excess that is both ludicrous and gentlemen their swords, periwigs, and emoffensive-and is, in its own nature, unques- broidery ;-and at the same time that it thus tionably a blemish and a misfortune: But it became quite practicable for an attorney's does not arise, we are persuaded, from any clerk or a mercer's apprentice to assume the thing intrinsically haughty or dull in our tem- exterior of a nobleman, it happened also, both perament--but is a natural consequence, and, that many persons of that condition had the it must be admitted. a considerable drawback education that fitted them for a higher rankfrom two very proud peculiarities in our con- and that several had actually won their way dition--the freedom of our constitution, and to it by talents and activity, which had not the rapid progress of wealth and intelligence formerly been looked for in that the body of the nation.

Their success was well merited undoubtedly, In most of the other countries of Europe, and honourable both to themselves and their if a man was not born in high and polished country; but its occasional occurrence, even society, he had scarcely any other means of more than the discontinuance of aristocratical gaining admission to it—and honour and dig- forms or the popular spirit of the Government, nity, it was supposed, belonged, by inheri- tended strongly to encourage the pretensions tance, to a very limited class of the people. of others, who had little qualification for sucWithin that circle, therefore, there could be no cess, beyond an eager desire to obtain it.derogation-and, from without it, there could So many persons now raised themselves by be no intrusion. But, in this country, persons their own exertions, that every one thought of every condition have been long entitled to himself entitled to rise; and very few proaspire to every situation-and, from the nature portionally were contented to remain in the of our political constitution, any one who had rank to which they were born ; and as vanity individual influence, by talent, wealth, or ac- is a still more active principle ihan ambition, tivity, became at once of consequence in the the effects of this aspiring spirit were more community, and was classed as the open rival conspicuously seen in the invasion which it or necessary auxiliary of those who had the prompted on the prerogatives of polite society, strongest hereditary claims to importance. than in its more serious occupations; and a But though the circle of Society was in this herd of uncomfortable and unsuitable comway at all times larger than in the Conti- panions beset all the approaches to good comnental nations, and embraced more persons pany, and seemed determined to force all its of dissimilar training and habits, it does not barriers. appear to have given a tone of repulsion to We think we have now stated the true the manners of those who affected the supe- causes of this phenomenon--but, at all events, riority, till a period comparatively remote. the fact we believe to be incontrovertible, that In the days of the Tudors and Stuarts there within the last fifty years there has been an was a wide pale of separation between the incredible increase of forwardness and solid landed Aristocracy and the rest of the popu- impudence among the half-bred and halflation; and accordingly, down at least to ihe educated classes of this country: -and that end of Charles the Second's reign, there there was consequently some apology for the seems to have been none of this dull and assumption of more distant and forbidding frozen arrogance in the habits of good com- manners towards strangers, on the part of pany. The true reason of this, however, was, those who were already satisfied with the exthat though the competition was constitution- tent of their society. It was evidently easier ally open, good education was, in fact, till land more prudent to reject the overiures of unknown acquaintances, than to shake them | really form a part of our national character, off after they had been once allowed to fasten must concur, we think, with the alienation it themselves to repress, in short, the first at- produces in others, speedily to consign it to tempts at familiarity, and repel, by a chilling ihe tomb of other forgotten affectations. The and somewhat disdainful air, the advances of duties that we owe to strangers that come all, of whom it might any way be suspected casually into our society, certainly are not that they might turn out discreditable or un- very weighty-and a man is no doubt entitled fit associates.

to consult his own ease, and even his indoThis, we have no doubt, is the true history lence, at the hazard of being unpopular among of that awful tone, of gloomy indifference such persons. But, after all, affability and and stupid arrogance, which has unfortunately complaisance are still a kind of duties, in their become so striking a characteristic of English degree; and of all duties, we should really manners. At its best, and when most justified think are those that are repaid, not only with by the circumstance of the parties, it has, we the largest share of gratitude, but with the must allow, but an ungracious and disoblig- greatest internal satisfaction. All we ask is, ing air: But the extravagant height to which that they, and the pleasure which naturally it is now frequently carried, and the extraor- accompanies their exercise, should not be sadinary occasions on which it is sometimes dis- crificed to a vain notion of dignity, which the played, deserve all the ridicule and reproba- person assuming it knows all the while to be tion they meet with. We should not quarrel false and hollow-or to a stil] vainer assumpmuch with a man of family and breeding tion of fashion, which does not impose upon being a little distant and cold to the many one in a thousand; and subjects its unhappy very affable people he may meet with, either victim to the ridicule of his very competitors in his travels, or in places of public resort at in the practice. All studied manners are ashome. But ihe provoking thing is, to see the sumed, of course, for the sake of the effect same frigid and unsociable manner adopted they are to produce on the beholders: And if in private society, and towards persons of the a man have a particularly favourable opinion highest character, if they happen not to be- of the wisdom and dignity of his physiognolong to the same set, or to be occupied with my, and, at the same time, a perfect conthe same pursuits with those fastidious mor- sciousness of the folly and vulgarity of his tals-who, while their dignity forbids them to discourse, there is no denying that such a be affable to men of another club, or women man, when he is fortunate enough to be where of another assembly, yet admit to the fami- he is not known, will do well to keep his own liarity of their most private hours, a whole secret, and sit as silent, and look as repulsive gang of led captains, or led parsons, fiddlers, among strangers as possible. But, under any boxers, or parasitical buffoons. But the most other circumstances, we really cannot admit remarkable extravagance in the modern prac- it to be a reasonable, any more than an amiatice of this repulsive system, is, that the most ble demeanour. To return, however, to M. outrageous examples of it are to be met with Simond. among those who have the least occasion for If he is somewhat severe upon our national its protection,-persons whose society nobody character, it must be confessed that he deals would think of courting, and who yet receive still harder measure to his own countrymen. the slightest and most ordinary civilities - There is one passage in which he distinctly being all that the most courteous would ever states that no man in France now pretends to dream of offering them, — with airs of as any principle, either personal or political. vehement disdain as if they were really in What follows is less atrocious, and probably danger of having their intimacy taken by nearer the truth. It is the sequel of an encostorm! Such manners, in such people, are mium on the domestic and studious occupano doubt in the very extreme of absurdity:— tions of the well-informed society of Zurich. But it is the mischief of all cheap fashions, that they are immediately pirated by the vul- would rempi few strangers, and in France particu

“Probably a mode of life so entirely domestic gar; and certainly there is none that can be larly, it would appear quite intolerable. Yet I doubt assumed with so little cost, either of industry whether these contemners of domestic dulness are or understanding as this. As the whole of it not generally the dullest of the iwo. Walking occonsists in being silent, stupid, and sulky, it casionally the whole lengih of the interior Boule. is quite level to the meanest capacity-and, vards of Paris, on a summer evening, I have gene. we have no doubt, has enabled many to pass several hours, the very same figures sitting just

rally observed on my return, at ihe interval of for persons of some consideration, who could where I had left them; mostly isolated middle-aged never have done so on any other terms; or men, established for ihe evening on three chairs, has permitted them at least to think that they one for the elbow, another for the extended leg, i were shunning the society of many by whom third for the centre of gravity; with vacant looks they would certainly have been shunned.

and a muddy complexion, appearing discontented We trust, therefore, that this fashion of with themselves and o!hers, and profoundly tired. mock stateliness and sullen reserve will soon talk of others, is still worse, I iake it, than the three

A fauteuil in a salon, for the passive hearer of the pass away. The extreme facility with which chairs on the Boulevard. The theatre, seen again it may be copied by the lowest and dullest of and again, can have no great charm; nor is it every mankind,—the caricatures which are daily one who has money to spare for the one, or free acexhibited of it in every disgusting variety,

cess to the other; therefore, an immense number iind the restraints it must impose upon lhe of people are driven to the Boulevard as a last re

As to home. It is no resource at all. No good nature and sociality which, after all, do I one thinks of the possibility of employing his time, there, either by himself or with his family. And Rousseau, from his garret, governed an em. the result, upon the whole, is, that I do noi believe pire-that of the mind; the founder of a new relithere is a country in the world where you see so gion in politics, and to his enthusiastic followers a many long faces, care-worn and cross, as among prophel-He said, and they believed! 'i he discithe very people who are deemed, and believe them- ples of Voltaire might be more numerous, but they selves, ihe merriest in the world. A man of rank were bound to him by far weaker ties. Those of and talent, who has spent many years in the Cri. Rousseau made the French Revolution, and permea, who employed himself diligently and usefully ished for it; while Voltaire's, miscalculating its when there, and who naturally loves a country chances, perished by it. Both, perhaps, deserved where he has done much good, praising it to a their fate; but the former certainly acted the nobler friend, has been heard to remark, as the main ob. part, and went to battle with the best weapons too, jection to a residence otherwise delightful— Mais --for in the deadly encounter of all the passions, of on est obligé de s'aller coucher tous les soirs à sept the most opposite principles and irreconcilable pre. heures,--parcequ'en Crimée on ne sait pas où aller judices, cold-hearied wit is of little avail. Heroes passer la soirée!' This remark excites no surprise and martyrs do not care for epigrams; and he must at Paris. Every one there feels that there can be have enthusiasm who pretends to lead the enthuno alternative.-some place, not home, lo spend siastic or cope with them. Une intime persuasion, your evenings in, or to bed at seven o'clock ! Il puis Rousseau has somewhere said, m'a toujours tenu one in mind of the gentleman who hesitated about lieu d'éloquence! And well it might; for the first marrying a lady whose company he liked very requisite io command belief is to believe yourself. much, tor,' as he observed, 'where could I then Nor is it easy to impose on mankind in this respect. go to pass my evenings?'”'-Vol. i. pp. 404, 405. There is no eloquence, no ascendancy over the

The following, though not a cordial, is at minds of others, without this intimate persuasion in least a candid testimony to the substantial ical persuasion, lasting but as long as the occasion;

yourself. Rousseau's might only be a sort of poet. benefits of the Revolution :

yet it was thus powerful, only because it was true, “The clamorous, restless, and bustling manners hough but for a quarter of an hour perhaps, in the of the common people of Aix their antiquated and heart of this inspired writer. ragged dress, their diminutive stature and ill-favour

“ Mr. M-, son of the friend of Rousseau, 10 ed countenances, strongly recalled to my mind the whom he left his manuscripts, and especially his population of France. such as I remembered it Confessions, to be published after his death, had formerly; for a considerable change has certainly fair copy written by himself

, in a small hand like

the goodness to show them to me. I observed a taken place, in all such respects, between the years 1789 and 1815. The people of France are decidedly print, very neat and correct; not a blot or an eraless noisy, and graver; better dressed, and cleaner. sure to be seen. The most curious of these papers, All this may be accounied for; but handsomer is however, were several sketch-books, or memoranda not so readily understood, à priori. It seems as if half filled, where the same hand is no longer disthe hardships of war, having successively carried cernible ; but the same genius, and the same way. off all the weakly, those who survived have regen: live thought which is there put down. Rousseau's

ward temper and perverse intellect, in every fugierated the species. The people have undoubtedly gained much by the Revolution on the score of composition, like Montesquieu's, was laborious and property, and a little as to political institutions. slow; his ideas flowed rapidly, but were not readily They certainly seein conscious of some advantage brought into proper order; they did not appear 10 attained, and to be proud of i—not properly civil have come in consequence of a previous plan; but liberty, which is little understood, and not properly the ideas, and served as a sort of frame for them,

the plan itself, formed afterwards, came in aid of estimated, but a certain coarse equality, asseried in small things, although not thought of in the essen

instead of being a system to which they were subtials of society. This new-born equality is

servient. Very possibly some of the fundamental touchy, as if it felt yet insecure; and thence a de opinions he defended so earnestly, and for which gree of rudeness in the common intercourse with his disciples would willingly have suffered martyrThe lower class, and. more or less, all classes, very thought, caught as it few, was entered in his com

dom, were originally adopted because a bright different from the old proverbial French politeness. This, though in itself not agrecable, is, however, a

monplace book. good sign. Pride is a step in moral improvement; insight into his taste in composition. You find

These loose notes of Rousseau afford a curious from a very low siate. aware, will not pass in France without animadver: him perpetually retrenching epithets-reducing his sion, as it is not to be expected the same judgment thoughts to their simplest expression-giving words will be formed of things under different circum- a peculiar energy, by the new application of their stances. If my critics, however, will only go three original meaning-going back to the naïveté of old or four thousand miles off, and stay away a quarier language ; and, in the artificial process of simplici. of a century, I dare say we shall agree better when y, carefully effacing the trace of each laborious we compare notes on their return.'

footstep as he advanced ; each idea, each image, Vol. i. pp. 333, 334.

coming out, at last, as if cast entire at a single

Throw, original, energetic, and clear. Although The way in which M. Simond speaks of Mr. M- had promised to Rousseau hat he would Rousseau, affords a striking example of that publish his Confessions as they were, yet he ivok struggle between enthusiasm and severity- upon himself to suppress a passage explaining cer: romance and cool reason, which we noticed tain circumstances of his abjurations ai Anneci

, af. in the beginning as characteristic of the whole fording a curious, but frightfully disgusting, picture work. He talks, on the whole, with contempt, Mr.M— did not break his word in regard to some

of monkish manners at that time. It is a piiy ihat and even bitterness, of his character: But he few more passages of that most admirable and most follows his footsteps, and the vestiges and vile of all ihe productions of genius.”' memorials even of his fictitious personages,

Vol. i. pp 564—566. with a spirit of devont observance-visits

The following notices of Madame de Staël Clareus, and pauses at Meillerie-rows in a

are emphatic and original :burning day to his island in the lake of Bienne-expatiates on the beauty of his retreat at

"I had seen Madame de Staël a child; and I saw

her again on her deathbed The intermediate years the Charmettes—and even stops to explore

were spent in another hemisphere. as far as possible his temporary abode at Moitier Travers. The from the scenes in which she lived. Mixing again, following passages are remarkable :

not many months since, with a world in which I am


a stranger, and feel that I must remain so, I just saw void of affeciation and trick, she made so fair and so this celebrated woman; and heard, as it were, her irresistible an appeal to your own sense of her worth, last words, as I had read her works before, uninflu- that what would have been laughable in any one enced by any local bias. Perhaps, the impressions else, was almost respectable in her. That ambi. of a man ibus dropped from anoiher world into this tion of eloquence, so conspicuous in her writings, may be deemed something like those of posterity. was much less observable in her conversation;

Madame de Staël lived for conversation: She there was more abandon in what she said than in was not happy out of a large circle, and a French what she wrote ; while speaking, the spontaneous circle, where she could be heard in her own lan- inspiration was no labour, but all pleasure. Conguage to the best advantage. Her extravagant ad. scious of extraordinary powers, she gave herself up miration of the society of Paris was neither more to the present enjoyment of the good things, and nor less than genuine admiration of herself. It she deep things, flowing in a full stream from her was the best mirror she could get-and that was well-stored mind and luxuriant fancy. The inspi. all. Ambitious of all sorts of notoriety, she would ration was pleasure—the pleasure was inspiration; have given the world to have been born noble and and without precisely intending it, she was, every a beauty. Yet there was in this excessive vanity evening of her life, in a circle of company, the very so much honesty and frankness, it was so entirely Corinne she had depicied.”—Vol. i. pp. 283–286.

( November, 1812.) Rejected Addresses; or the New Theatrum Poetarum. 12mo. pp. 126. London: 1812.*

After all the learning, wrangling and tried their hands at an address to be spoken solemn exhortation of our preceding pages, at the opening of the New Theatre in Drury we think we may venture to treat our readers Lane—in the hope, we presume, of obtaining with a little morsel of town-made gaiety, the twenty-pound prize which the munificent without any great derogation from our estab- managers are said to have held out to the suclished character for seriousness and contempt cessful candidate. The names of the imagiof trifles. We are aware, indeed, that there nary competitors, whose works are now offered is no way by which we could so certainly in- to the public, are only indicated by their inigratiate ourselves with our provincial readers, tials; and there are one or two which we as by dealing largely in such articles; and really do not know how to fill up. By far the we can assure them, that if we have not greater part, however, are such as cannot poshitherto indulged them very often in this sibly be mistaken; and no reader of Scolt

, manner, it is only because we have not often Crabbe, Southey, Wordsworth, Lewis, Moore, met with any thing nearly so good as the or Spencer, could require the aid, even of their little volume before us. We have seen no- initials, to recognise them in their portraits. thing comparable to it indeed since the pub- Coleridge, Coleman, and Lord Byron, are not lication of the poetry of the Antijacobin; and quite such striking likenesses. Of Dr. Busby's though it wants the high seasoning of politics and Mr. Fitzgerald's, we do not hold ourselves and personality, which no doubt contributed qualified to judge-not professing to be deeply much to the currency of that celebrated col- read in the works of these originals. lection, we are not sure that it does not ex- There is no talent so universally entertainhibit, on the whole, a still more exquisite ing as that of mimicry—even when it is contalent of imitation, with powers of poetical fined to the lively imitation of the air and composition that are scarcely inferior. manner-the voice, gait, and external deport

We must not forget, however, to inform our ment of ordinary individuals. Nor is this to country readers, that these “Rejected Ad- be ascribed entirely to our wicked love of dresses” are merely a series of Imitations of ridicule; for, though we must not assign a the style and manner of the most celebrated / very high intellectual rank to an art which is living writers—who are here supposed to have said to have attained to perfection among the

savages of New Holland, some admiration is * I have been so much struck, on lately looking undoubtedly due to the capacity of nice oh. back to this paper, with the very extraordinary servation which it implies; and some gratifi. merit and felicity of the Imitations on which it is cation may be innocently derived from the giving them a chance of delighting a new genera sudden perception which it excites of pecution of admirers, by including some part of them in liarities previously unobserved. It rises in this publication. I take them, indeed, to be the interest, however, and in dignity,, when it very best imitations) and often of difficult originals) succeeds in expressing, not merely the visible that ever were made: and, considering their great and external characteristics of its objects, but extent and variety, to indicate a talent to which I do not know where 10 look for a parallel. Some those also of their taste, their genius, and few of them descend to the level of parodies: But temper. A vulgar mimic repeats a man's by far the greater part are of a much higher de. cant-phrases and known stories, with an exact scription. They ought, I suppose, !o have come imitation of his voice, look, and gestures: But under the head of Poetry,-but “Miscellaneous"

he is an artist of a far higher description, who is broad enough to cover any thing.--Some of the less striking citations are now omitted. The au

can make stories or reasonings in his manner; thors, I believe, have been long known to have and represent the features and movements of been the late Messrs. Smith.

his mind, as well as the accidents of his body.

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