ments of Chaucer; to which are added, a defcription of the feudal fyftem, and the intimate connection of this last with chivalry and romance. We may praise the induftry of Mr. Godwin, in tranfcribing fo much, but cannot pafs a very high encomium on his judgement. There are numerous popular writers, whofe works are in every body's hands, who have treated largely on thefe fubjects, and which must therefore be familiarly known to the general reader; and if he merely wished to describe the effects which might have been produced on the mind of Chaucer by fuch circumstances, this end would have been fully anfwered by a concife reference to them. Chapter IV defcribes the practices and establishments of the Church of England, in the fourteenth century. We have here a moft animated account of the folemnities and power of the Roman Catholic religion, in which its powerful appeal to the fenfes, is depicted in glowing and ardent colours. As far as good writing is concerned, this is perhaps as fine a piece of compofition as English literature can boast; though in many parts it is eafy to discover a ftrain of fentiment by no means to be applauded. The following excerpt forms a ftriking picture, which cannot fail to arrest the moft powerful emotions of the heart. "But, however the hold which the Roman Catholic fuperftition had gained upon the minds of men might at this time be weakened, its external ftructure was undefaced and entire. It is the peculiar characteristic, I may add the peculiar beauty, of the Romih religion, that it fo forcibly addreffes itfelf to our Tenfes, without lofing fight of the immense advantage for giving permanence to a fyftem of religion, which is poffeffed by creeds, dogmas, and articles of faith. Religion is nothing, if it be not a fentiment and a feeling. What refts only in opinion and fpeculation, may be jargon, or may be philofophy, but can be neither piety towards God, nor love to man. This truth was never more strikingly illuftrated than in the history of the crufades. A man may be perfuaded, by reading Grotius's treatife Of the Truth of the Chriftian Religion, or any other work of a fimilar nature, that the man Jefus was really put to death eighteen hundred years ago, and that, after having been committed to the grave, he was feen again a living man; yet this persuasion may produce no effect upon his temper and heart. Far different was the cafe, when the crufaders, after all their toils, and a difficult and obftinate fiege, made themselves mafters of Jerufalem by affault. fcene of the agony and death of their They rushed towards the Saviour. They traced the venerable ground which had been hallowed by the tread of his feet. They faw the hill on which he died, the fragments of his crofs, the drops ftill freth and vifible of his facred blood: they visited the tomb in which the Creator of the World once repofed among the dead. Their weapons, still reeking with blood, dropped from their trembling hands; the ferocity of a murderer was changed into the tenderness of a child: they kneeled before the tomb, kiffed it with their lips, and bathed it with their tears; they poured out their fouls in one united fong of praife to the Redeemer; every one felt himself at this hour become a different man, and that fpirit had taken its abode in his a new bofom." The preparation for death, or extreme unction, is ftrongly painted. "The hoft, that is, the truc and very body of his Redeemer, is conducted in itate to the dying man's houfe, conveyed to his chamber, and placed upon his parched and fevered tongue; he is anointed with holy oil; and, after a thousand awful ceremonies, difiniffed upon his dark and myfterious voyage. Every thing is fedulously employed to demonftrate that he is a naked and wretched creature, about to ftand before the tribunal of an auftere and rigorous judge; and that his binelefs life, his undaunted integrity, his proud honour, and his generous exertions for the welfare of others, will all of them little avail him on this tremendous and heart-appalling occafion. The cham ber of the dying man is the toilet of his immortal foul, at which it must be delicately and fplendidly attired, before it prefumes to enter the courts of the King of Heaven. This fcene perhaps produces a stronger effect upon the fpectators than upon the object for whom it is performed." At p. 51, immediately after the preceding extract, Mr. G. indulges himfelf in one of his accustomed wanderings. "Death, in the eye of fobriety and reason, is an inevitable accident, of which we ought not to make too anxious an account. Live well,' would be the recommendation of the enlightened moralift; and die as you can. It is in all cafes a scene of debility and pain, in which human nature appears in its humbleft and most mortifying afpect. But it is not much. Let not the thought of death taint all the bewitching pleasures, and all the generous and heroical adventure of life."" It Such, in our opinion, might be the advice of the atheist or the hypocrite, but not of the rational and enlightened moralift. We lament to fee terms fo grofsly mifapplied, and in a bad caufe. It is eafy to calculate what would be the confequences of this axiom, if it were fcrupulously adhered to. would be a licence to every fpecies of vice, oppreffion, and fraud; it would remove every moral or religious fcruple or fentiment; and render us infenfible or careless of a future retribution---a retribution which affuredly exifts, and the belief of which, none but madmen, atheifts, idiots, or hypocrites, can wish to destroy. "Live well, and die as you can," may be confidered as an epitome of the moft pernicious tenets which ever fought to overthrow the eternal welfare of man; and as fuch we cannot hesitate to reprobate it in the strongest terms of abhorrence and disapprobation. Chapters V, VI, and VII, contain trite remarks on, and defcriptions of, the amufements of our ancestors in the fourteenth century; in which the minstrels, bards, conjurors, prophets, &c. &c. fatigue the reader, through no lefs than feventy-eight quarto pages, without enlarging his mind. Such labour'd nothings, in fo grave a ftyle, Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned fmile. The object of every book is, or ought to be, improvement, and improvement can be acquiredonly by the acceffion of fome new ideas. But, in the prefent inftance, the labour of reading things already known is in no manner compensated by any novelty of remark, or profoundness of illuftration. At page 80 is an observation altogether new to us, and will doubtlefs prove equally fo to our readers. "The hiftory of English poetry merits to be defcribed, as an immenfe treasury of materials, not always accurately collected, but al ways jumbled together in the most incoherent manner, of which perhaps there is any example in the annals of literature!" Mr. Godwin has certainly furnished the example, which it appears he fought for in vain elsewhere. Chapter VIII is devoted to the architecture of the fourteenth century. In the initial paragraph to this chapter, our author obferves, "that the buildings, images, paintings, and mufic of his country could not fail to be continually obtruding themfelves upon the fenfes of Chaucer, and to form an effential part of his education." It does not appear to us that this reafoning is either juft or even plausible. With what certainty can we fuppofe the mind of Chaucer to have been at all influenced, with regard to its formation, by the buildings or the mufic then prevalent? Can we, for inftance, in ourfelves trace any obvious connexion between the operations of our intellect and the ftructure of Westminster Abbey, of St. Paul's, of Salisbury Cathedral, or the compofitions of Mazzinghi, Reeve, or Kelly Upon fuch foundation, and upon fuch a childish hypothefis, we might undertake, in the life of any individual, to give a complete account of the musicians, actors, painters, fculptors, &c. who flourished at the fame period of time. In his remarks on the Gothic ftyle of architecture, Mr. Godwin has principally followed the authorities of Milner, Warburton, and Bentham, and indeed has done little elfe than tranfcribe from thofe authors. We must leave Mr. Godwin to decide how an edifice can abstractedly be called "more religous:" p. 143. We have yet to learn, that religion is to be found only in the walls of a church. "The word Caftle, caftellum, a diminutive from the Latin caftrum, originally fignified a little camp; and the dimenfions and plan of the ancient caftles are in fufficient correfpondence with this idea. The projector ordinarily chofe for the fite of his edifice a riting ground in the neighbourhood of a river. Having marked out the limits of his inclosure, he then surrounded it with a wall, ten or twelve feet high, flanked with towers, and with a narrow projection near the top on the infide, where the defenders might place themselves for the convenience of reconnoitring, or of ufing their weapons. Immediately before this wall on every fide a ditch was hollowed, which was filled with water where it could be procured, and formed what we call the moat of the castle. A bridge was built over this ditch, or a draw-bridge fet up on the infide, to be let down as occafion required. "Another effential part of an ancient castle was the barbican, or watchtower, always an outwork, and frequently placed beyond the ditch, at the external foot of the bridge. "In many castles there was a fecond wall, of confiderably smaller circuit than the firft, which was in like manner flanked with towers. In this cafe it was not unufual for various works (barracks, a well, a chapel, an artificial mount, and even fometimes a monaftery) to be placed between the first and fecond walls. A fecond ditch with its draw-bridge was fometimes introduced. "The most important part however of that fpecies of fortification, called an ancient caftle, was the keep, or houfe of refidence, in which the baron of former times held his ftate. The walls and towers before enumerated were a fort of extrinfic defence, from which, when the first and fecond walls were taken by the befiegers, the garrifon retreated to the maniion, where they made their last stand. "The keep, in the fort of fortifications erected in England previously to the conqueft, feems to have been generally, if not always, built on the top of an artificial mount, whofe fummit was nearly of the fame dimenfions as the plane of the edifice it was deftined to receive. From this circumftance it is fuppofed to have derived its Latin and French appellations, dunjo, donjon, the etymology of which is afcribed by the gloffariits to an old Saxon and Trench word, bun, dune, a hill. "Very foon after the conqueft, however, great improvements were made in the art of fortification, which are principally afcribed to Gundulph Bifhop of Pochefter, architect of the White Tower in the Tower of London, and of Rochester Castle. So long as the artificial mount was retained, the keep was frequently placed in the exterior wall of the fortification; but, when this contrivance was laid aide as operofe and unneceffary, the keep was for the most part removed into the centre of the building. In the conftruction of the artificial mount, particular attention was given to the rendering it fteep, and its fummit, except in one point, inacceffible. The portal, therefore, in this plan of building, was placed on the ground-floor. The expedient introduced by Gundulph, with the view of fuperfeding the ufe of the artificial mount, confifted in carrying up the portal to the fecond or third ftory, and leaving no place for entrance on the level of the ground; the form of the keep being commonly fquare, and the walls ten or twelve feet in thickness. "In this plan the entrance was by a fpacious stone staircase on the outside of the building. This ftaircase frequently went in part round two sides of the keep. After having afcended a certain number of steps, there was a ftrong gate placed, which must be forced by an enemy before he could proceed farther. He then came to what might be called the landing-place, where was an interval, with a drawbridge to be let down on occafion. This draw-bridge being paffed, he next encountered a fecond ftrong gate, which was usually the entrance of a tower of finaller height and dimenfions, forming a veftibule to the principal tower, or keep. This portal, befide its gates, was defended by a herfe, or portcullis, a machine precifely in the form of a harrow, compofed of beams of wood croifing each other at right angles, with strong iron fpikes projecting from their points of interfection. This machine was fixed as a flider in grooves of tione hollowed for that purpofe, and was worked up and down by a windlas fecurely contained with the walls of the keep. It was extremely heavy; and, befide the fpikes already mentioned, was furnished with other fpikes in a perpendicular direction, for the purpofe of triking into the ground or floor beneath. The entrance of the keep ittelf was by a farther portal, feparating the principal tower from the appendant one, and provided in like manner with ftrong gates and a portculfis. The grand entrance is varioully placed in the caftles of this period; in fome on the fecond, and in others on the third ftory. "The keep ufually confifted of five floors: one below the furface, which was commonly the prifon: the groundfloor, appropriated for the reception of ftores; the fecond story, for the accommodation of the garrifon; the third, ftate-rooms for the habitation of the lord; and the fourth, bed-chambers. "The accommodations of thefe times, though ftately according to the ideas then prevailing, were fuch as would appear to a modern obferver flender and inconvenient. Guilford Cattle, where King John in one instance celebrated his birth-day, had only one room on a floor. The ufual number of principal rooms, in that floor which the poffeffor of the castle appropriated to his own convenience, did not exceed two. The garriton, who occupied the ftory immediately beneath, were crowded into a small proportionable compafs, and flept on truffes of firaw. The apartments were also very inade quately lighted. Those below the story upon which the state-rooms were placed received the beams of the fun only through chinks or loops, extremely narrow, and cautiously conftructed in fuch a manner as to afford no advantage to befiegers. In the staterooms there were windows; but generally fmall in proportion to the fize of the apartments, often but one in a room, broken through the thickness of the wall, and protected by an internal arch, and placed at a confiderable height from the level of the floor. The ftate-rooms, however, though few in number, were not finall; thofe in Rochefter Caftle, which may be taken as a medium, were fifty feet in length by twenty feet broad. "The thickness of the walls, ufually amounting to twelve feet, was fuch as to afford room for various constructions within the substance of them, fuch as wells, galleries of communication, &c. The wells conftructed in the walls, fome of them, included circular ftair-cafes, and others were left open, being deftined for the purpofe of raifing to the top of the building, in the times of fiege, beams and other materials for the making or repairing of military machines. Thefe machines were ufually placed upon leads and a platform, contrived for the purpose, above the highest flory of the keep. Wells for water were alfo funk in fome part of the building, but not in the fubftance of the walls, with conveniences for raifing the water to any story of the edifice. Another, almost universal, contrivance, was that of a door, intended as a fally-port, raised several feet above the furface of the ground, but with no external ftair leading to it, which was framed to favour unexpected attacks upon the befiegers, yet with every ima ginable precaution to prevent the ufe of it being turned against the besieged, The chimneys were by loops in the walls, fimilar to thofe contrived for the admiffion of light into the lower apart ments. "Another artifice frequently introduced in the erection of ancient caftles was the formation of a fubterraneous paffage, the commencement of whieh was in the keep itfelf, while the other extremity was at fome diance without the walls, being intended, like the door laft mentioned, for a fally-port, enabling the garrifon to iffue forth upon the befiegers by surprise." Chapter IX is occupied with the laft we fhall probably introthe fculpture, painting, metallic arts, embroidery, and music of the fourteenth century. The following account of the tapestry of Bayeux may be interefting to fome of our readers. "A very curious monument of the ftate of this art at the time of the Norman conqueft is the celebrated tapestry of Bayeux, which ftill exifts, and is publicly exhibited at ftated periods in the cathedral of that city. It is a web of linen, nearly two feet in breadth, and two hundred and fortytwo in length, embroidered with the hiftory of that memorable expedition, from the embaffy of Harold to the Norman court, in 1065, till his death in the following year. The fcenes of this bufy period are fucceffively exhibited, and confift of many hundred figures of men, horfes, beafts, birds, trees, houfes, caftles, and churches, with infcriptions over them, explanatory of their meaning and hiftory. This work is understood to have been performed under the direction of Matilda, confort to William I, and was not improbably executed by the hands of English women, whofe fuperiority in performances of this kind was then univerfally acknowledged." At page 173, is, we prefume, an error of the prefs, where Michael Angelo is called Agnolo. Chapter X contains an account of Chaucer at Cambridge---the state of the Universities---monaftic and mendicant orders--the fchoolmen--and natural philofophy in the fourteenth century. Chapter XI difcuffes the compofitions of Chaucer while a student at Cambridge. It is now, that, after having waded through upwards of two hundred pages, we are introduced to a flight acquaintance with the proper object of the work, though we are ftill doomed to experience manifold and grievous interruptions. Mr. Godwin has purfued a curious mode of reasoning in this chapter. It is not however the firft of the kind we have met with, nor is it duce to the notice of our readers. "Chaucer," obferves Mr. G., "faw immediately in which way the path of fame was moft open to his accefs; that it was by the cultivation of his native tongue: and his feeing this at the early age of eighteen, is no common proof of the magnitude of his powers. Thus far author in his zeal for his venerable had perhaps been well; but our countryman, deftroys, in a few lines afterwards, the very fabric he had raised to his fame, and proves "the magnitude of his powers" to have been little elfe than bare neceffity. Thus he proceeds to ob ferve: "Nor was the profperous career our language was about to run, by any ment for recurring to the ufe of it. means the only, or the ftrongeft, arguFor the poet to attempt to express his thoughts in French, was for him voluntarily to fubject himself to many of the difadvantages which attend the attempt to write poetry in a dead language. ly be entirely worthy of the name of poetry. It can but weakly convey the facility of our thoughts, or the frethnefs of our impreffions. Chaucer was a genuine Englishman, a native of our ifland, hitherto confined within our fhores, and born in the clafs of our burgeffes and merchants. French was to him probably like a foreign language: all his boyith feelings had been expreffed in English: English words were mingled and affociated with all the fcenes he had beheld, and all the images he had conceived. For a man to communicate the thoughts he has formed in one language in the words of another, is a pofition not lefs unfortunate, than to be condemned to contemplate a beautiful woman, not by turning our eyes immediately upon her perfon, but by regarding her figure as thadowed in a mirror." What is fo written can fcarce This is indeed a curious contradićtion of the preceding observation; for it now appears, that the excellence, which Mr. G. fuppofed Chaucer to have in firft ufing his |