Page images
PDF
EPUB

might do more for the cause he has at heart, the cause of Christianity, than any other person with whom we are acquainted.

The principal object of the discourses in the present volume is to prepare the mind for the direct evidence of Christianity-to do away that presumption which is supposed to exist a priori against this astonishing dispensation to shew the infidel that there are things in nature hardly less wonderful than the redemption of man -and that, amazing as is the scheme of revelation, it is yet in perfect analogy with the known attributes of God. Men of science, who see the operations of nature conducted according to uniform laws, and without the visible interference of an external agent, are apt to take up a prepossession against any system of miracles; and when philosophy unfolds the volume of creation, and the understanding expatiates delighted on the laws and motions of planetary worlds, it is natural for us to imagine that science has out stript the discoveries of religion, and that the records of the gospel are thrown into the shade by the triumphs of reason. "These are the prejudices which lie at the foundation of natural science;" and our author has exposed them with an ability and a success scarcely inferior to that of Butler himself, and in a manner certainly "better adapted to the taste and literature of the times." He shews, that the faith of Christians is in reality something noble and sublime; and that, "elevated as the wisdom of him may be, who has ascended the heights of science, and poured the light of demonstration over the most wondrous of nature's mysteries-that even out of his own principles it may be proved, how much more elevated is the wisdom of him who sits with the docility of a little child to his Bible, and casts down to its authority all his lofty imaginations."

The limits of a publication of this kind prevent us from entering into a minute examination of the work before us; and as we are sensible that we could do no justice to an analysis of these discourses, without allotting to it a greater space than is consistent with the plan of our publication, we shall conclude these general hints by recommending the volume, in the

strongest manner, to the perusal of our readers. To Dr Chalmers we would earnestly recommend, in his future productions, to avoid that eccentric phraseology, and that occasional uncouthness and vulgarity of expression, which cannot but counteract, in a very considerable degree, the effect of his enthusiastic and touching eloquence. His object is a style "adapted to the taste and literature of the times ;" and the common defence of popular theologians, that they write to impress the heart and the understanding, and not to sooth or gratify a fastidious taste, will not avail Dr Chalmers, who writes expressly for the literary world, and who must be sensible that it cannot benefit his cause to appear before them with those very blemishes which are most revolting to their peculiar habits and associations.

Upon the whole, we are convinced that the effect of these discourses must be great and salutary. They will tend to shew the worshippers of reason and of science, that Christianity is in reality something transcendently sublime, interesting, and valuable; and to convince the world in general that a warm and habitual piety is really one of the characteristics of superior minds, while scepticism arises from an incapacity of profound emotion or grand conception. If the world were once convinced of this, the associations of the young and the gay would no longer interest them in favour of infidelity. Religion would become again universally loved, honoured, and practised; and the English character, instead of being gradually degraded to the diminutive model which is held out by the most flippant and unprincipled of our neighbours, would probably revert with unexpected celerity to its ancient style of grandeur and simplicity. It is only necessary that genius, which has been so long enlisted, throughout all Europe, on the side of infidelity, should again rouse itself in the cause of religion, to accomplish so desirable a revolution in the opinions and character of men. If a few great and original minds, like that of Dr Chalmers, should arise to advocate the cause of Christianity, it would no longer be the fashion to exalt the triumphs of reason and of science, in order to throw contempt on the discoveries of the gospel.

K2!

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

Harold the Dauntless; a Poem. By the Author of " The Bridal of Triermain." 1817. Constable & Co. pp.

200.

THIS is an elegant, sprightly, and delightful little poem, written apparently by a person of taste and genius, but who either possesses not the art of forming and combining a plot, or regards it only as a secondary and subordinate object. In this we do not widely differ from him, but are sensible, meantime, that many others will; and that the rambling and uncer tain nature of the story, will be the principal objection urged against the poem before us, as well as the greatest bar to its extensive popularity. The character of Mr Scott's romances has effected a material change in our mode of estimating poetical compositions. In all the estimable works of our former poets, from Spenser down to Thomson and Cowper, the plot seems to have been regarded only as good or bad, in proportion to the advantages which it furnished for poetical description; but of late years, one half, at least, of the merit of a poem is supposed to rest on the interest and management of the tale.

We speak not exclusively of that numerous class of readers, who peruse and estimate a new poem, or any poem, with the same feelings and precisely on the same principles as they do a novel. It is natural for such persons to judge only by the effect produced by the incidents; but we have often been surprised that some of our literary critics, even those to whose judgment we were most disposed to bow, should lay so much stress on the probability and fitness of every incident which the fancy of the poet may lead him to embellish in the course of a narrative poem, a great proportion of which must necessarily be descriptive. The author of Harold the Dauntless seems to have judged differently from these critics, and in the lightsome rapid strain of poetry which he has chosen, we feel no disposition to quarrel with him on account of the easy and careless manner in which he has arranged his story. In many instances, he undoubtedly shows the hand of a master, and (as the director-general of our artists would say,)" has truly studied and seized the essential character of the antique-his attitudes and drape*ics are unconfined, and varied with

demi-tints, possessing much of the lustre, freshness, and spirit of Rembrandt. The airs of his heads have grace, and his distances something of the lightness and keeping of Salvator Rosa. The want of harmony and union in the carnations of his females, is a slight objection, and there is likewise a meagre sheetiness in his contrasts of chiaroscuro; but these are all redeemed by the felicity, execution, and master traits, distinguishable in his grouping, by which, like Murillo or Carraveggio, he sometimes raises from out the rubbish masses of a colossal trifle."

But the work has another quality; and though its leading one, we do not know whether to censure or approve it. It is an avowed imitation, and therefore loses part of its value, if viewed as an original production. On the other hand, regarded solely as an imitation, it is one of the closest and most successful, without being either a caricature or a parody, that perhaps ever appeared in any language. Not only is the general manner of Scott ably maintained throughout, but the very structure of the language, the associations, and the train of thinking, appear to be precisely the same. It was once alleged by some writers, that it was impossible to imitate Mr Scott's style, but it is now fully proved to the world, that there is no style more accessible to imitation; for it will be remarked, (laying parodies aside, which any one may execute), that Mr Davidson and Miss Holford, as well as Lord Byron and Wordsworth, each in one instance, have all, without, we believe, intending it, imitated him with considerable closeness. The author of the Poetic Mirror has given us one specimen of his most polished and tender style, and another still more close of his rapid and careless manner; but all of them fall greatly short of The Bridal of Triermain, and the poem now before us. We are sure the author will laugh heartily in his sleeve, at our silliness and want of perception, when we confess to him that we never could open either of these works, and peruse his pages for two minutes with attention, and at the same time divest our minds of the idea that we were engaged in an early or experimental work of that great master. That they are generally inferior to the works of Mr Scott, in

vigour and interest, admits not of dispute; still they have many of his wild and softer beauties; and if they fail to be read and admired, we shall not Did she pass, that maid with the heavenly

on that account think the better of the taste of the age.

With regard to the former of these
poems, we have often heard, from
what may be deemed good authority,
a very curious anecdote, which we
shall give merely as such without
vouching for the truth of it. When
the article entitled The Inferno of
Altisidora,' appeared in the Edin-
burgh Annual Register for 1809, it
will be remembered that the last frag-
ment contained in that singular pro-
duction, is the beginning of the ro-
mance of Triermain. Report says,
that the fragment was not meant to be
an imitation of Scott, but of Coleridge;
and that for this purpose the au-
thor borrowed both the name of the
hero and the scene from the then un-
published poem of Christabelle; and
further, that so few had ever seen
the manuscript of that poem, that a-
mongst these few the author of Trier-
main could not be mistaken. Be that
as it may, it is well known, that on
the appearance of this fragment in the
Annual Register, it was universally
taken for an imitation of Walter Scott,
and never once of Coleridge. The au-
thor perceiving this, and that the poem
was well received, instantly set about
drawing it out into a regular and
finished work; for shortly after, it
was announced in the papers, and con-
tinued to be so for three long years;
the author, as may be supposed, hav
ing during that period his hands oc-
casionally occupied with heavier metal.
In 1813 the poem was at last pro-
duced, avowedly and manifestly as an
imitation of Mr Scott; and it may
easily be observed, that from the 27th
page onward, it becomes much more
decidedly like the manner of that
poet than it is in the preceding part
which was published in the Register,
and which undoubtedly does bear some
similarity to Coleridge in the poetry,
and more especially in the rhythm-as,
e. g.

* Harpers must lull him to his rest,
With the slow tunes he loves the best,
Till sleep sink down upon his breast,
Like the dew on a summer hill.'

• It was the dawn of an autumn day,
The sun was struggling with frost-fog gray,

[ocr errors]

That, like a silvery crape, was spread
Round Skiddaw's dim and distant head.
What time, or where

brow,

With her look so sweet, and her eyes so fair,
And her graceful step, and her angel air,
And the eagle plume on her dark-brown hair,
That pass'd from my bower e'en now?'

Although it fell as faint and shy
As bashful maiden's half-formed sigh,
When she thinks her lover near."

In morn of frost, the withered leaves
And light they fell, as when earth receives,
That drop when no winds blow.'
'Or if 'twas but an airy thing,
Such as fantastic slumbers bring,
Framed from the rainbow's varying dyes,
Or fading tints of western skies.'

These, it will be seen, are not exactly Coleridge, but they are precisely such an imitation of Coleridge as, we conceive, another poet of our acquaintance would write: on that ground, we are inclined to give some credit to the anecdote here related, and from it we leave our readers to guess, as we have done, who is the author of the poems in question.

It may be argued by the capricious, and those of slow-motioned souls, that this proves nothing; but we assure them it proves all that we intend or desire to have proved; for we think the present mode of endeavouring to puzzle people's brains about the authors of every work that appears extremely amusing. It has likewise a very beneficial and delightful consequence, in as much as it makes many persons to be regarded as great authors, and looked up to as extraordinary characters, who otherwise would never have been distinguished in the slightest degree from their fellows. We shall only say, once for all, that whenever we are admitted behind the curtain, we shall never blab the secrets of the green-room, for we think there is neither honour nor discretion in so doing; but when things are left for us to guess at, we may sometimes blunder on facts that will astonish these mist-enveloped authors, as well as their unfathomable printer, who we think may soon adopt for a sign-board or motto, Mr Murray's very appropriate and often-repeated postscript;

No admittance behind the scenes. And, at all events, if we should some

times mistake, it will only be productive of a little more amusement in the discussion of the literary capabilities of some new individuals, with their styles and manners, even down to the composition of a law paper.

We cannot give long extracts from every work which we propose to notice, but we have no hesitation in saying, that the poem of Harold is throughout easy, and flowing; never tame, and often exhibits great spirit. But it is apparent that the author had no plan in going on, farther than the very affected and unnatural one, now rendered trite by repetition, of making his hero wed his page, who turns out to be a lady in disguise. All the rest of the poem seems to fun on at mere random. The introduction begins with the following stanzas:"There is a mood of mind we all have known, On drowsy eve, or dark and low'ring day, When the tired spirits lose their sprightly

tone,

And nought can chase the lingering hours

away.

Dull on our soul falls Fancy's dazzling ray, And Wisdom holds his steadier torch in vain, Obscured the painting seems, mistuned the lay,

Nor dare we of our listless load complain, For who for sympathy may seek that cannot tell of pain?

Ennui !-or, as our mothers call'd thee, Spleen!

To thee we owe full many a rare device ;→→→ Thine is the sheaf of painted cards, I ween, The rolling billiard-ball, the rattling dice, The turning lathe for framing gimcrack nice; The amateur's blotch'd pallet thou may'st

claim,

Retort, and airpump, threatening frogs and

mice,

(Murders disguised by philosophic name,) And much of trifling grave, and much of

buxom game.

Then of the books, to catch thy drowsy glance Compiled, what bard the catalogue may quote! Plays, poems, novels, never read but once ;But not of such the tale fair Edgeworth wrote, That bears thy name, and is thine antidote; And not of such the strain my Thomson sung, Delicious dreams inspiring by his note, What time to Indolence his harp he strung; Oh! might my lay be rank'd that happier list among!"

The dry humour, and sort of half Spenserian cast of these, as well as all the other introductory stanzas in the poem, we think excellent, and scarcely outdone by any thing of the kind that we know of; and there are few parts, taken separately, that have not something attractive to the lover of natural poetry, while any one page

will shew how extremely it is like to the manner of Scott.

[ocr errors]

A professed imitator will not, we presume, value himself much on his pretensions to originality, else we might perhaps give the author some offence by remarking, that the demeanour of Harold in the fane of St Cuthbert is too like that of Wat o' the Cleuch in Jedburgh abbey, to be viewed as purely incidental; and it is not a little singular, that he should have judged it meet to borrow from another imitator, who, in that style and instance, is so decidedly his inferior.

We shall only add, that Harold the Dauntless is a fit and reputable com‐ panion to Triermain. The poetry is more equal, and has more of nature and human character; yet when duly perused and reflected on, it scarcely leaves on the mind, perhaps, so distinct and powerful an impression.

Armata. A Fragment.

London,

Murray, 1817. pp. 210.

It is a remarkable fact, that no crisis of our political existence, during the last half century, has called forth so few of our pamphleteer speculators on statistics as the present-when the unexampled difficulties which have oppressed our agriculture, our manufactures, and our commerce,-difficulties from whose operation no one amongst us has been exempt, and whose extent no one amongst us can define, present sophers and statesmen. Whether this so wide a field to our soi-disant philosilence be owing to a want of ability, or a want of inclination to encounter a subject of such magnitude, it is not now our business to determine. Two plans, however, have been brought forward, which we are assured will relieve us from all our embarrassments. Major Cartwright prescribes for us universal suffrage and annual parliaments, while a distinguished member of the Legislature is not less sanguine in his expectation, that our farmers and our manufacturers will find a remedy for all their distresses in-the plains of South America! The subject having been thus neglected, it was with not less pleasure than surprise, that on reading the tract before us, we found that the author-whoever he be-developes in a masterly manner the causes which have brought us into our present alarming situation, and explains the measures which, he thinks, ought to be adopted to work out our deliverance.

[ocr errors]

It will doubtless be asked, how it is that such subjects should be treated of under the title of ARMATA?--and it is therefore necessary that we should infort our readers, that ARMATA is the name of a country placed by the author in an imaginary world; in depicting which country, he gives a most eloquent and animated description of the policy of Great Britain, tracing the history of her distresses from the beginning of the contest with America downwards, through the revolutionary war with France to the present day. How far it was necessary to resort to a new world, in order to find a vehicle for the conveyance of his ideas on the distresses of Great Britain, may be matter of doubt; but be that as it may, the author has displayed, in the investigation of the question, deep knowledge of his subject, and has discussed it in a style of brilliant eloquence, tempered, however, with a degree of moderation, too seldom witnessed in works on the political topics of the present day. The following character of Mr Fox, is a fair specimen of the author's powers of writing.

My confidence in this opinion is the more unshaken, from the recollection that I held it at the very time, in common with a man whom, to have known as I did, would have repaid all the toils and perils you have undergone.-I look upon you, indeed, as a benighted traveller, to have been cast upon our shores after this great light was set.-Never was a being gifted with an understanding so perfect, nor aided by a perception which suffered nothing to escape from its dominion, He was never known to omit any thing which in the slightest degree could affect the matter to be considered, nor to confound things at all distinguishable, however apparently the same; and his conclusions were always so luminous and convincing, that you might as firmly depend upon them as when substances in nature lie before you in the palpable forms assigned to them from the foundation of the world.Such were his qualifications for the office of a statesman; and his profound knowledge, always under the guidance of the sublime simplicity of his heart, softening, without unnerving the giant strength of his intellect, gave a character to his eloquence which I shall not attempt to describe, know ing nothing by which it may be compared." pp. 86-89.

It has been said, and we believe without having been contradicted, that this work is the production of a very eloquent and distinguished member of the Legislature, who has filled a large

space in the political world during the last thirty years; and although in the second edition of Armata, which is now before us, the author does not avow himself, yet, as it is a work which even the eminent person alluded to might be proud to acknowledge, and as it speaks the same sentiments which he has always maintained, we are inclined to give credit to the rumour which has named him the author of this spirited and able performance.

Stories for Children; selected from the History of England, from the Conquest to the Revolution. 18mo. pp. 186. 1817. Second edition, London, Murray.

PARTIAL as we confess ourselves to be to the pleasing recollections of our early years, we must admit that the little folks of this generation have many advantages which we did not enjoy. The juvenile library of our day was of limited extent; and though amply furnished with Mother Bunch, &c. it could not boast of the admirable productions of a Mrs Barbauld, a Miss Edgeworth, and a number of other eminent writers, who have not disdained the humble, but most useful, task of teaching "the young idea how to shoot." The manner in which these ineritorious authors have combined instruction with entertainment, we consider as one of the great improvements of modern times. History is now rendered "as attractive as a fairy tale," and our little masters and misses may be as familiar with the characters of real life as their predecessors were with Blue Beard and Little Red Riding Hood.

We have been particularly gratified with the little book which has given rise to these reflections. The author has expressed so shortly, and so well, the reasons which led him to compose these charming stories for his own family, and induced him to fayour the world with them, that we think our readers will be pleased to see them in his own words.

difficulty of paying the contribution of stories "Every person has, I suppose, felt the which children are so anxious to levy. I happen to have one little girl whose curiosity and shrewdness have frequently em led to inquiries which it was not easy to barrassed me; I have found that fictions satisfy, and that supernatural fictions (such as fairy tales) vitiated the young taste, and disgusted it from its more substantial nourishment, while the fictions of common lite

« PreviousContinue »