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few that one in ten of the adult population, seem to be in the practice of joining in this most essential ordinance," it would have been a disappointment to us had he quitted the subject without strongly enforcing it upon his clerical brethren as calling loudly upon them for instruction, for admonition, for remonstrance, for exhortation, for advice: this he does in a few bat pointed observations, and then closes, if not an eloquent, yet, as we set out with remarking, a very useful address, with this recapitulation and re-enforcement of the points brought under discussion.
"Let not an unworthy avarice dilapidate, nor a corrupt taste transform, her temples; let not an unwilling or forced submission condemn her laws, nor a misplaced criticism vitiate her liturgies; let not a spurious liberality warp her creeds, nor an opprobrious contempt endanger her charity. There is no vacillation in truth,-it is "the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever."
ART. XI. Poetical Effusions; comprising Poems, Ballads, and Songs. By C. Feist. Crown 8vo. pp. 80. MR. C. Feist is one of the most pert and self-sufficient young gentlemen with whom it has been our chance to meet, in the course of our critical labours. From his preface, it appears that he has been a lawyer's clerk, or something of the kind, and his volume, which he states to be his "pet," proves that, if he was not " foredoomed a father's soul to cross," he was certainly foredoomed" to pen a stanza when he should engross." Such, however, is, of course, not his own opinion. "I should not," says he," have avowed myself the author of the following poems, was I not prepared to meet and answer every objection that can possibly be urged against them." In this modest strain he goes on for some time, and convinces us that he has been long enough connected with the profession of the law, to imbibe a large portion of the impudence of its professors. The manner in which, by anticipation, he defends himself from critical censure, is delightful. If, says he, I published at eighteen, Moore and Hunt did the same; if I quit law for the Muses, Scott, Moore and many others did the same; if I write pastoral, Cunningham, Shenstone and Hamilton did the same; if some of my poems "present the readers with every species of bad composition," Dean Swift's first production did the same; and if I have been guilty of errors against prosody," I can plead that "half a hundred poets more eminent than I can ever hope to be," have been the same, and even in a worse degree. It is impossible
not to admire the exquisite logic of this. Men of genius have done certain things; and, therefore, dunces may do the same. Mr. Feist should have remembered, that the ass was cudgelled, for attempting to play the tricks of the spaniel. So confident, however, is he of his powers, that he declares," should the critic feel inclined to continue his strictures, he will find me furnished with answers to them, be they what they may." For our parts we shall content ourselves with one observation on his verses, which is, that they are absolutely among the very worst which we have ever seen. What answer he will make to this, we know not, and, in truth, we have little curiosity to know. We would give him some advice, were he not obviously a subject on whom it would be thrown away; and we must confess that we feel no pleasure in performing the thankless office of throwing pearls before swine.
ART. XII. Love and Horror; an Imitation of the Present, and a Model for all Future Romances. By Ircastrensis. 12mo. pp. 219. Stockdale, 1815.
THE author of this bagatelle has had wisdom enough to dis cover, that the mock heroic will not bear to be prolonged to the extent of a modern novel. As a professed burlesque upon productions of this description, it has all the distortion of caricature, and contains a sufficient quantity of improbable incidents and extravagant sentiment. A secret spring and trap door are ever at hand, to extricate the hero and heroine, or involve the adventurers in greater perplexity: by the help of this convenient machine, and other licences of the romance, the author, with infinite expedition, contrives to drown and hang his hero, to cast him into a furnace of molten glass, and have him fished up as a mermaid, and presented in a turtle-tub to Buonaparte.
Whether the author has carried his imitation of the epic plan farther, and has interwoven an allegory with his fable; or has merely undertaken to burlesque that part of the economy of 1eroic compositions, we leave to profounder wits to determine. To assist those who may think "two grains of wheat in a bushel of chaff worth the trouble of seeking," we shall observe, that the insurrection of the Spanish patriots, on which M. Rocca has written so much, is ascribed to the influence and eloquence of our author's hero. A few passages now strung together will enable the reader to draw his own conclusions relative to the
latent sense which the author may have veiled under the literal incidents of his fable.
"The whole conduct of the war in the peninsula, with all its brilliant detail of events, has been ascribed to the present ministry, without the least mention being made of Thomas. Those who are sceptical about the existence of Thomas must give them the whole undivided praise; but they should first, by a careful perusal of all the registers in the kingdom, prove his nonentity. At all events the warmest thanks of the nation are due somewhere." P. 147.
The following description, with the initials of the name of that well known and unfortunate person, to whom it alludes, will at least identify the party with whom the hero is, in some measure, politically connected. It exhibits him at sea, in the eventful crisis, when wafted on a hen-coop, he is relieved by an ap proaching vessel.
"In the mean time a vessel, of the most curious form and construction that ever was made, appeared in sight; the form was that of a club, the sails were in the shape of a club, the mast was a club, in fact the whole affair was a floating club. It appears that some thirty or forty dukes, marquisses, and earls had clubbed together to furnish this vessel, in which they might enjoy each others' society without interruption, and might float after fine weather to every portion of the globe. Their idea was singular, but their conversation was so sprightly, so elegant, so thoroughly club, that Mr. S-W-, himself, could he have entered the vessel, would have been delighted. Noblest and best of men! into whatever part of the globe the harsh fates shall throw the author of this immortal work, it will be his highest consolation to have seen and conversed with thee." P. 149.
We obtain a little further insight into this mysterious cha racter, in the following passage, in which the hero is described in the same awkward dilemma.
"He immediately swam forward, seized the hen-coop, and again seated himself on that vehicle. He was now totally at a loss for occupation. 'I now,' said he, 'feel quite alone; my tobacco and pipe are as if they had never been.' In this distress, he smote himself with his fist on every part of his body; at last his knuckles hit against some books, in the pocket of his vestments. To his great joy, he found a Spanish grammar, a dictionary, and a volume of Lopez de Vega. Thomas applied himself with so much intenseness to his books, that in three hours he was a perfect master of the language, and could speak it with the fluency of a native. This anecdote places the character of Thomas in the highest rank of genius. It would be difficult to find a parallel." P. 163.
But enough of this trifling.
An Extract from a Journal, kept on Board H. M. S. Bellerophon, Captain F. L. Maitland, from Saturday July 15, 1815, to Monday, August 7, 1815; being the Period during which Napoleon Buonaparte was on Board that Ship. By Lieutenant John Bowerbank, R. N. (late of the Bellerophon.) To which is added, an Appendix of Official and other Documents. 8vo. pp. 76. FLETCHER, or more probably Shirley, in his comedy of the Coronation, makes Seleucus say
Men have risen
Nay, some that had no fathers, sons o' th' earth,
And flying people, have aspir'd to kingdoms,
These lines are not inapplicable to the fallen Napoleon. Happily for mankind, however, his frowns will no longer awe the world. His red and terrific star is set in utter darkness. It is, nevertheless, natural to wish to know how he bears himself after his fall. This pamphlet will furnish some portion of the desired information. It contains, says the author, "a plain unvarnished narrative of occurrences (as far as they came under my observation) during the time Napoleon Buonaparte was on board the Bellerophon." It bears in itself evident marks of authenticity. The anecdotes which it relates are curious, and some of them are highly characteristic. Many of them have been copied by the daily papers, and, therefore, we will not injure the sale of Lieutenant Bowerbank's book, by extracting any of those which have been left untouched. He seems to have no fears except of Reviewers, of whom he certainly has a formidable idea. But his fears with respect to them are groundless, as he has not committed any such literary faults, as would justify them in" cutting up the poor sailor."
ART. XIV. Speech of Mr. Phillips, delivered in the Court of Common Pleas, Dublin, in the Case of Guthrie v. Sterne. 24 pp. Faulkner.
IRELAND has of late years abounded with men of distin guished eloquence in the senate, the pulpit, and at the bart indeed a natural vein of florid but captivating eloquence is the
general character of the Irish. Their ardent and enthusiastic tempers are infused into their compositions, and in extempore addresses they are peculiarly happy. More brilliant than solid, they hurry their hearers on, without permitting them to enquire into the strength of their arguments, or question the truth of their assertions. In depth and argumentative reasoning, the speeches of the Irish are greatly deficient: their eloquence is admirably adapted for the moment, but will rarely bear calm perusal in the closet.
The speech before us will, we think, serve as an illustration of the foregoing remarks: it has been much celebrated of late, and it displays indeed a brilliant specimen of Irish eloquence. It was delivered upon one of those melancholy occasions which, happily for Ireland, appear to be of rarer occurrence there than at home. The plaintiff was the intimate friend of the pleader, whose happiness had been destroyed by one of those "vain and vapid coxcombs, whose vices tinge the frivolity of their follies with something of a more odious character than ridicule." We proceed to lay before our readers a few extracts, which will enable them to judge whether we have been justified in the praise we have bestowed; and the following description of marriage is perhaps one of the finest parts in the whole.
"But of all the ties that bound, of all the bounties that blessed her, Ireland most obeyed, most loved, most reverenced, the nuptial contract. She saw it the gift of heaven, the charm of earth, the joy of the present, the promise of the future, the innocence of enjoyment, the chastity of passion, the sacrament of love: the slender curtain that shades the sanctuary of her marriage bed, has in its purity the splendour of the mountain snow, and for its protection the texture of the mountain adamant.”
In a beautiful and pathetic strain, he describes the mutual happiness subsisting between the plaintiff and his wife until the appearance of the defendant, who
"with the serpent's wiles and the serpent's wickedness, stole into the Eden of domestic life; poisoning all that was pure, pol, luting all that was lovely, defying God, destroying man, a dæmon in the disguise of virtue, a herald of hell in the paradise of innocence."
The defendant had avowed that ambition prompted him to his infamous purpose, which calls forth from Mr. Phillips the following brilliant description.
"I had heard, indeed, that ambition was a vice, but then a vice so equivocal it verged on virtue; that it was the aspiration of a spirit, sometimes perhaps appalling, always magnificent; that though its