symbols of that being, now far, far away, and sees the whole of her past life rise in vivid distinctness as scene after scene appears at the suggestive call of that book, or this chair, which tell so touchingly of the dead. After such a deprivation, Foster's mind was more than ever disposed to hover around the mysteries of departed spirits; what they were feeling or doing was ever in his thoughts, or rather what she might be feeling and doing. His love for ruins, for places buried in the deep quietude which the voices of the world never disturbed, returned, and to be far from the sight of houses seemed a luxury. The village in which he dwelt could not be called populous, but its attractions would have been greater for Foster had all its neat residences been suddenly changed into ivied ruins, the moss-covered and time-broken walls of which could have held communion with his spirit. Often has the writer of this article met him in a lonely valley about two miles beyond Stapleton, where a stream rolled silently between masses of rock, the huge and timeblackened slabs of which, projecting from the enormous roots of ancient trees, seemed like the torn and desolate wreck of a mountain region. In summer evenings, just as the sun threw his warm light upon the foliage along the face of the cliffs, and brought into full view the deserted mill at the bottom of the vale, and shed beauty upon a huge pile of black rock, towering above the stream, Foster was often met by one accustomed at the same time to seek the romantic beauties of the spot. Slowly, by the side of the stream covered with thousands of water-lilies, was the stooping, thoughtful form of the essayist seen to advance. The writer and he on such occasions never exchanged but a passing salute, for it would have been the height of cruelty to have disturbed his meditations in this solitude, which had been singled out as offering the retirement he loved. Glad was the writer to find that the presence of another in this wildly beautiful spot did not scare Foster from his walk, though it would have been difficult to find another so appropriate to his meditative mind in the immediate vicinity of Stapleton; for the mill, and that abandoned, the wild banks, the stillness of the stream, the deep shade of the trees, contrasted with the vivid green of a narrow slip of mead, presented that combination most adapted to Foster's taste. None could disturb him here, where few, save the simple peasants, wending to the distant hamlet at eventide, were seen; and these gave Foster no annoyance. He did not flee from the simplicity of nature, but the affectations of art; the rustic in the path was never avoided, though the circuit of a mile would have been made to escape the intrusion of some modish gentleman. This quiet spot is now left for other thoughtful wanderers. Foster's footsteps have not of late pressed the turf, and long will it be ere such another frequenter of the vale will admire its beauties. He was now gradually withdrawing himself from the business of earth, for seventy years began to affect both his bodily and mental powers, his eyes and memory were failing, thus threatening him with an isolation, not only from the visible forms of nature, but from the stores acquired by reading. Slowly, but surely, the end was approaching, and descending from one degree of weakness to another, he gradually drew near to the event which through the whole of life Foster had constantly kept in view. The year 1843 was the limit to Foster's earthly career; for then, on the 14th of October, he departed this life for that which had so often occupied his meditations, leaving a name which the lovers of original thinking and earnest thoughtfulness will not quickly forget. The essays, by the publication of which Foster first attracted the notice of the world, are four: the first being "On a Man's writing Memoirs of himself," in which he develops, through a series of seven letters, the deep know ledge of the mind's secret workings with which his habitual thoughtfulness made him familiar. He imagines various persons writing their own memoirs, and revealing, for the solemn scrutiny of men, the secrets of their past lives, and especially the course of training by which their characters had been formed. He then instances the kind of process through which a misanthrope, a prejudiced thinker, a tyrant, and an atheist, have passed, describing the influences which had perverted the intellect and heart of the latter. The following terse irony on the easy stages by which some have reached the degrading depths of atheism, will give a notion of Foster's peculiar style. "It was not strange if this man read with avidity a few of the writers who have attempted the last achievement of presumptuous man. After inspecting these pages awhile, he raised his eyes, and the great spirit was gone. Mighty transformation of all things! The luminaries of heaven no longer shone with his splendour; the adorned earth no longer looked fair with his beauty; the darkness of night had ceased to be rendered solemn by his majesty; life and thought were not an effect of his all-pervading energy; it was not his providence that supported an infinite charge of dependent beings; his empire of justice no longer spread over the universe; nor had even that universe sprung from his all-creating power."-Again, The wonder then turns on the great process by which a man could grow to the immense intelligence which can know that there is no God. What ages and what lights are requisite for this attainment! This intelligence involves the very attributes of Divinity, while a God is denied. For unless this man is omnipresent, unless he is at this moment in every place in the universe, he cannot know but there may be in some place manifestations of a Deity, by which even he would he overpowered. If he does not know every agent in the universe, the one that he does not know may be God. If he is not himself the chief agent in the universe, and does not know what is so, that which is so may be God. If he does not know every thing that has been done in the immeasurable ages that are past, some things may have been done by a God. Thus, unless he knows all things, that is, precludes all other divine existence by being Deity himself, he cannot know that the being whose existence he rejects does not exist." The second essay is "On decision of character," which rare quality he exemplifies in a variety of modes, exhibiting the miserable consequences attending its absence, and instancing examples of this high quality in the men whose names shine out from the crowd on the long roll of history. The third essay is entitled, "On the application of the epithet Romantic," in which Foster details the mischievous consequences of an undue tendency to the imaginative in the affairs of life, and the evil of Utopian schemes in literature, politics, and in religious efforts for the advancement of Christianity. The last essay contains a series of just reflections "On some of the causes by which evangelical religion has been rendered unacceptable to persons of cultivated tastes." In this he exposes the low tone of thought, and feebleness of style, characterizing much of the printed theology and popular Divinity. These essays, with his treatise on Popular Ignorance," and his "Discourses," to which must now be added his "Journal," are the materials from which a full estimate of his character must be formed. What are the principal outlines of Foster's intellectual and moral character? A sombre grandeur, such as Milton often dwelt in, is one especial mark of his mind, which appeared ever at home in the midst of those shadowy mysteries where the soul, by long watching, perceives forms of infinite brightness and purity. Such minds love a home on the outside of the world, and a fellowship with the spirits that walk unseen this earth. This is not the grandeur of mere imagery, but of solid thought, making the reader feel as if treading holy ground, and listening to the voices of mighty spirits. Such loftiness of meditation and amplitude of range are especially seen in some of his discourses, in which Foster moves amid the dread solemnities of religious verities. Miscellaneous. "I have here made only a nosegay of culled flowers, and have brought nothing of my own, but the string that ties them."-Montaigne.. Also for manners and life THIS I know, not only by reading books in my study, but also by experience of life abroad in the world, that those which be commonly the wisest, best learned, and best men also, when they were old, were never commonly the quickest of wit when they were young. Quick wits be apt to take, unapt to keep; soon hot and desirous of this and that, as soon cold and weary of the same again; more quick to enter speedily than able to picrce far; even like our sharp tools, whose edges be very soon turned . . . quick wits commonly be in desire new-fangled, in purpose inconstant, light to promise any thing, ready to forget every thing, both benefit and injury, and thereby neither fast to friend nor fearful to foe; inquisitive of every trifle, not secret in the greatest affairs; bold with any person, busy in every manner: soothing such as be present, whipping any that is absent:-of nature, always flattering their betters, envying their equals, despising their inferiors; and by quickness of wit, very quick and ready to like none so well as themselves. Contrariwise, a wit in youth that is not over dull, heavy, knotty and lumpish, but hard, tough, though somewhat staffish,-such a wit, I say, if it be at the first well handled by the mother, and rightly smoothed and wrought by the schoolmaster, both for learning and whole course of living, proveth always the best. Hard wits be hard to receive, but sure to keep; painful without weariness, heedful without wavering, constant without new-fangledness; bearing heavy things, though not lightly, yet willingly; entering hard things, though not easily, yet deeply; and so come to that perfectness of learning in the end that quick wits seem in hope, but do not indeed ever attain unto. Also, for manner, and life, hard wits commonly are hardly carried, either to desire every new thing, or to marvel at every strange thing; therefore they be careful and diligent in their own matters, not curious and busy in other men's affairs; and so they become wise themselves, and also are counted honest by others. They be grave, stedfast, silent of tongue, secret of heart; not hasty in making, but constant in keeping, any promise; not rash in uttering, but wary in considering every matter, and thereby not quick in speaking, but deep of judgment, whether they write or give counsel on weighty affairs. And these be men that become in the end, both most happy for themselves, and also most esteemed abroad in the world.-Roger Ascham. Great subtlety is also joined, in Foster, to grandeur of imagination, and this enabled him to detect the secret workings of thought, and note the peculiarities of his own inner life, with a distinctness far greater than that with which ordinary men observe the most common facts of their daily life. His command of beautiful and appropriate imagery was remarkable, and all parts of his writings bear witness to the employment of illustrations drawn alike from the simplest objects of life, and the grandest forms of nature. The rustic bridge over the lonely stream, the trunk of a leafless tree, the dust raised by the wind, and the bright beauty of the midnight heavens, are all in turn employed to suggest ideas, or enshrine a powerful reflection. Many, when reading Foster's writings, are somewhat surprised to find "so little imagination" in the pages, and deem it "rather dry," but these forget that imagination may be employed on loftier objects than the mere trappings of wordiness. Great thoughts are often brought down from on high by imagination's aid, as Franklin conducted lightning from the skies by his line. This faculty was in Foster the auxiliary of thought, not its substitute. His love of natural beauty proceeded from this vigorous and healthy tone of his imagination, which enabled him to see the rich colourings and diversified beauties of scenery, so as to employ them for the enrichment of his style, and illustration of his thoughts. He was thus ever feeding his mind with the suggestions and images furnished by woods, mountains, and rivers, and this oratory of the visible universe has been well rendered by him in many of those compact masses of illuminated reflection which often compel the reader to pause, and peruse again the expressive sentence. It may now be asked, What has Foster done for the advancement of knowledge and the improvement of mankind? Little, perhaps, if we contrast his powers with the visible results of his life; but the same conclusion was made in the case of Coleridge, though it must not be supposed that such minds have passed through a long course, and, like shooting stars, left no trace of good behind. If a check has been given to frivolity, and many minds have been called from trifling pursuits to manly habits of thought, a great good has been accomplished, and the seeds of future blessings sown upon the earth. Such an end, it is presumed, Foster laboured to effect; nor will a considerate man deem him to have failed. Thousands must have had their intellectual faculties braced and hardened for the great work of life by his teaching, and vast numbers may yet derive similar benefits from his instruction. We must not regard every man a useless labourer who does not produce some novelty which we may touch or see; as some discovery in physical science, a new kind of steam engine, or a fresh explanation of astronomical phenomena. Such a mode of estimating will exclude from the ranks of the useful a Milton, a Shakspere, and a Wordsworth. It is true we may regret that Foster isolated himself by eccentric, or let us say nervous, peculiarities, from the great masses of mankind; but this insularity was a result of his peculiar genius, and formed a part of the man's character. Others will still more strongly grieve that the nature of his theological views should have disposed him to keep aloof from, and even to attack, those long-established forms in which religious The Battle of Otterbourne, truths have been handed down to us from remote ages. A third party of readers will condemn the vehement impulses which too frequently carried Foster away from just conclusions, and separated his force of thought from correct judgment. But, amidst all these regrets, let us not forget the originality and simple-mindedness of this distinguished writer, nor hide his merits behind his faults, so that the former shall become wholly obscured by the latter. ERRATA. In the stanzas entitled "A True Tale," which appeared in No. 74, the reader is requested to correct the following mistakes: Verse 4, line 2,-for "fair cadence," read "far cadenec.” N.B.-A Stamped Edition of this Periodical can be forwarded free of postage on application to the Publisher, for the convenience of parties residing at a distance, 2s. 6d. per quarter. Frank Fairlegh; or, Old Companions in New Scenes, Chap.XVI. The Substance of the Shadow CONTENTS. 402 404 Page 407 The Wish, (concluded) ...... 411 PRINTED by RICHARD CLAY, of Park Terrace, Highbury, in the Parish of St. Mary, Islington, at his Printing Office, Nos. 7 and 8, Bread Street Hill. in the Farish of St Nicholas Olave, in the City of London, and pub: shed by THOMAS BOWDLER SHARPE, of No. 15. Skinner Street, in the Parish of St. Sepulchre, in the City of London-Saturday. April 24, 1847. B. Bagne, Inundation of the Valley of, 287. Bee-hive, temperature of, in Winter, 281. Betrothed, (Manzoni's,) Extract from, 40. Biographical Sketches of Eminent Painters, 13, 44, 63, 111, 140, 159, 207. Black Forest, The, 152. Black Forest, Village Tales from, 366. C. Captain, The, mastered, 176. Capuchin, The, 40. Caravan, The Boat and the, 302. Carol, The Christmas, 143. Ceremonies, Ancient Coronation, 128. Ceylon, Superstition regarding the Owl in, 304. Chaucer, Extract from, 337. Chepstow Castle, 305. Chief, Burial of an Indian, 112. Chief, New Zealand, 351. Child, A Lost, 191. Children, French, 188. Christmas as it is, 130. Christmas Box, The, 132. Christmas Carol, The, 143. Christmas Day, 138. Christmas Eve, 124. Christmas, Old, 172. Christmas Party in the Country, 86, 106, 117, 148, 174, 214, 233, 267, 334, 348, 378. Christmas Tree, Legend of the, 129. Church Antiquarian, A, 190. Church of Notre Dame, Paris, 187. Cinque Ports, The, 178, 370. Claude Gelée de la Lorraine, Biographical Sketch of, 207. Coins, Purity of Ancient, 258. Coronation Ceremonies, Ancient, 128. Cotton Manufacture, History of, 228, 246, 261, 282. Country, Christmas Party in the. 86, 106, 117, 148, 174, 214, 233, 267, 334, 348, 378. Courage, Woman's, 126. Court House, Old, of Splugen, 189. Creative Power, Feeling of, where it predominates, 189. Cunning of the Fox, 176. Curiosities of Modern Travel, 350. Curiosities of Science, 257. Customs, Ancient, of England, Notices of, 45, 101. D. Daughter, The Landlady's, 64. Day, Christmas, 138. Day, Lord Mayor's, 26. Day, St. Catharine's, 74. Day, St. Martin's, 27. Day, St. Nicholas', 108. Dead Maiden, The, 288. Death Bed, The, 113. Death, The, of Keeldar, 1. Description of a Siberian Shaman, 15. Dramatists, Stories from the, 77, 326. Dust, Travels of Volcanic, 258. Fanchette Brulard, 296, 332. Fanshawe, Anecdote of Sir Henry, 192. Farleigh Grange, 18. Father, The Injured, 319. Feast of All Saints, 12. Feast of St. Andrew, 74. Feast of St. John the Evangelist, 157. Feast of St. Stephen, 156. Feast of St. Thomas, 124. Feast of the Holy Innocents, 157. Feeling of creative power, where it predominates, 189. Feudal Nobility, Absence of, in Norway, 258. Forest, The Black, 152. Maiden, The Dead, 288. Mammoths of the British Isles, 259. Manufacture, History of the Cotton, 228, 246, 261, 282. Manufacture, Shawl, of Paisley, 290. Mary of the Oakenshaws, 30. Massinger, Story from his Virgin Martyr, 77. Merchant, The, 226, 307, 340. Mild Temperature of Whitehaven, 258. Lucerne, 189. the French Guards, at Old Companions in New Scenes, Frank Original Artist, The, 157. Orphans, The, of St. Gratien, 296, 332. Owl, Superstition regarding the, in Ceylon, 304. P. Painters, Biographical Sketches of, 13, 44, 63, 111, 140, 159, 207. Painter's Solace, The, 304. Paisley, Shawl Manufacture of, 290. Palace, Buckingham, 354, 375, 388. Palace, Holyrood, 145. Paria, The. 165. Party, Christmas, in the Country, 86, 106, 117, 148, 174, 214, 233, 267, 334, 348, 378. Philosophy of Hearing, 382. Piscator's Sketches, 358, 381. Pitcairn's Island, A Song of, 225. Pitt and Arden, 272. Planet, Le Verrier's, 154, 257. Pleasure derived from the Contemplation of fine Scenery, 223. POETRY: Adelgitha, 354. Ali Aben Fahar, 239. Angel Watchers. 48. A True Tale, 352. Bianca, 242. Burial of an Indian Chief, 112. Dora, 207. Epitaph in the Church of Romford, 192. Grisildis, the Peasant Bride, 337. Legend of Sir Morolt and the Swart Huntsman, 210. "Love Not" rebuked, 159. Song of Pitcairn's Island, 225. The Death of Keeldar, 1. The Mother's Hope, 161. The Painter's Solace, 304. The Red Cross Knight, 289. The Three Voices, 16. The Village Spring, 370. 129. The Young Man and the Friar, 272. Where shall I turn to Forget? 192. Poetry of Tennyson, 188. Points of View, 315. Poor, Sympathy for the, 144. Popular Year-book, 11, 26, 74, 89, 108, 124, 138, 156. Ports, The Cinque, 178, 370. Potatoes, The black, 275. Potato Malady, The, 259. Poussin, Biographical Sketch of, 140. Pride, 32. Privileges of Vienna, 3. Public, Books and the reading, 183. Purity of Ancient Coins, 258. Ꭱ. Rambles, Vacation, Scraps from Serjeant Talfourd's, 187, 220. Railway, Scenery of the Great Western, 19, 36, 57, 75. Reading Public, Books and the, 183. Records, Old, of New Roads, 167. Red-Cross Knight, The, 290. Reflections on an unsuccessful attempt to ascend Mount Blanc, 221. Rembrandt. Biographical Sketch of, 44. Roadside Sketches of Germany, 390, 404. Round Table at Winchester, True History of, 90. Rubens, Biographical Sketch of, 63. Rudolstadt, Duke of Alva's Breakfast at the Castle of, 319. S. Sandwich, Historical Sketch of, 178. Scenery of the Great Western Railway, 19, 36, 57, 75. Scenery, Pleasure derived from the Contemplation of, 223. Schiller, Translation from, 319. School for the Indigent Blind, Visit to the, 170. Science, Curiosities of, 257. Scottish Scene, 82. Scott's, Sir Walter, Tombstone, 127. Scraps from Serjeant Talford's Vacation Rambles, 187, 220. Shawl Manufacture of Paisley, 290. Siberia, Gold in, 258. Siberian Shaman, Description of, 15. Sketches, Roadside, of Germany, 390, 404. Society, Some Thoughts on the Present Solace, The Painter's, 304. Song of Pitcairn's Island, 225. Spectacle at Erfurth, The Emperors, 250. St. Andrew, Feast of, 74. T. Table, Round, at Winchester, History of, 90. TALES: Black Fritz, 4, 23, 53, 68. Frank Fairlegh, 192, 193, 211, 231, 348, Louise; or, The Fairy Well, 92, 109. The Brothers, 366. The Christmas Box, 132. The Emperor's Brother, 345. The Maiden Aunt, 244, 263, 299, 330, The Merchant, 226, 307, 340. The Orphans of St. Gratien, 296, 332. The Wish, a Fairy Tale, 395, 411. Trutta, 312 328. Tales, Village, from the Black Forest, 368. Temperature of the Bee-hive in Winter, 281. St. Bernard, Frozen Dead at the Hospice The Three Adventurers, 218. of the Grand, 160. St. Catharine's day, 74. St. Gratien, The Orphans of, 296, 332. St. Martin's day, 27. St. Nicholas' Day, 108. St. Nicholas' Eve, 89. St. Stephen, Feast of, 156. St. Thomas, Feast of, 124. Stories from the Dramatists, 77, 326. Streets of London, 201, 217. Sugar, Beer brewed from, 322. Surgical Operations, Use of Ether in, 338. 304. Sympathy for the Poor, 144. Syria, Family Tour through Egypt and, 302. Thermometer, Rise of the, 16. Thirty Years' War, Black Fritz, an Episode Thoen, Thomas, Remarkable Preservation Thoughts on the Present Condition of Three Voices, The, 16. Times Testimonial, The, 59. Tombstone, Sir Walter Scott's, 127. Tortoise, Longevity of the, 176. Tour, Family, through Egypt and Syria,392. Travel, Advantages of Foreign, 222. Tree, Legend of the Christmas, 129. Walker, Helen, 104. Well, Louise, or. the Fairy, 92, 109. Winchester, The true History of the Round Window Panes, Frost on, 213. Winter, Temperature of the Bee-hive in, 281. Wish, The, A Fairy Tale, 395, 411. Woodbridge, Seckford's Almshouses at, Y. Year Book, Popular, 11, 26, 74, 89, 165, 124, 138, 156. Young Man, The, and the Friar, 272. LONDON-PRINTED BY R. CLAY, BREAD STREET HILL. |