symptom of returning health, and declared himself delighted at my having received so much benefit from my conference with the Great Mogul. Upon inquiry I found that the stranger had already passed eight days in Ratisbon. According to his own account, therefore, he was only to remain there six days longer. Saturday was still at a distance of three. Oh! with what impatience did I expect its arrival! In the interim, the bleeding nun continued her nocturnal visits; but hoping soon to be released from them altogether, the effects which they produced on me became less violent than before.

The wished-for night arrived. To avoid creating suspicion, I retired to bed at my usual hour; but as soon as my attendants had left me, I dressed myself again, and prepared for the stranger's reception. He entered my room upon the turn of midnight. A small chest was in his hand, which he placed near the stove. He saluted me without speaking; I returned the compliment, observing an equal silence. He then opened the chest. The first thing which he produced was a small wooden crucifix; he sunk upon his knees, gazed upon it mournfully, and cast his eyes towards heaven. He seemed to be praying devoutly. At length he bowed his head respectfully, kissed the crucifix thrice, and quitted his kneeling posture. He next drew from the chest a covered goblet; with the liquor which it contained, and which appeared to be blood, he sprinkled the floor; and then dipping in it one end of the crucifix, he described a circle in the middle of the room. Round about this he placed various reliques, skulls, thigh-bones, &c. I observed that he disposed them all in the forms of crosses. Lastly, he took out a large Bible, and beckoned me to follow him into the circle. I obeyed.

me with a secret awe, not to say horror. He was dressed plainly, his hair was unpowdered, and a band of black velvet, which encircled his forehead, spread over his features an additional gloom. His countenance wore the marks of profound melancholy, his step was slow, and his manner grave, stately, and solemn. He saluted me with politeness, and having replied to the usual compliments of introduction, he motioned to Theodore to quit the chamber. The page instantly withdrew. I know your business,' said he, without giving me time to speak. I have the power of releasing you from your nightly visitor; but this cannot be done before Sunday. On the hour when the Sabbath morning breaks, spirits of darkness have least influence over mortals. After Saturday, the nun shall visit you no more.' 'May I not inquire,' said I, by what means you are in possession of a secret which I have carefully concealed from the knowledge of every one?' 'How can I be ignorant of your distresses, when their cause at this moment stands before you?' I started. The stranger continued: though to you only visible for one hour in the twenty-four, neither day nor night does she ever quit you; nor will she ever quit you till you have granted her request.' And what is that request?' That she must herself explain; it lies not in my knowledge. Wait with patience for the night of Saturday; all shall be then cleared up.' I dared not press him further. He soon after changed the conversation, and talked of various matters. He named people who had ceased to exist for many centuries, and yet with whom he appeared to have been personally acquainted. I could not mention a country, however distant, which he had not visited; nor could I sufficiently admire the extent and variety of his information. I remarked to him, that having tra- 'Be cautious not to utter a syllable!' whispered velled, seen, and known so much, must have given the stranger: step not out of the circle, and as you him infinite pleasure. He shook his head mournfully. love yourself, dare not to look upon my face.' Holding 'No one,' he replied, 'is adequate to comprehending the crucifix in one hand, the Bible in the other, he the misery of my lot! Fate obliges me to be con- seemed to read with profound attention. The clock stantly in movement; I am not permitted to pass struck one; as usual I heard the spectre's steps upon more than a fortnight in the same place. I have no the staircase, but I was not seized with the accusfriend in the world, and, from the restlessness of my tomed shivering. I waited her approach with confidestiny, I never can acquire one. Fain would I lay dence. She entered the room, drew near the circle, down my miserable life, for I envy those who enjoy and stopped. The stranger muttered some words, to the quiet of the grave; but death eludes me, and me unintelligible. Then raising his head from the flies from my embrace. In vain do I throw myself in book, and extending the crucifix towards the ghost, the way of danger. I plunge into the ocean, the he pronounced, in a voice distinct and solemn, waves throw me back with abhorrence upon the Beatrice! Beatrice! Beatrice!' 'What wouldst thou?' shore; I rush into fire, the flames recoil at my ap- replied the apparition in a hollow faltering tone. proach; I oppose myself to the fury of banditti,│What disturbs thy sleep? Why dost thou afflict their swords become blunted, and break against my breast. The hungry tiger shudders at my approach, and the alligator flies from a monster more horrible than itself. God has set his seal upon me, and all his creatures respect this fatal mark.' He put his hand to the velvet which was bound round his forehead. There was in his eyes an expression of fury, despair, and malevolence, that struck horror to my very soul. An involuntary convulsion made me shudder. The stranger perceived it. Such is the curse imposed on me,' he continued; 'I am doomed to inspire all who look on me with terror and detestation. You already feel the influence of the charm, and with every succeeding moment will feel it more. I will not add to your sufferings by my presence. Farewell till Saturday. As soon as the clock strikes twelve, expect me at your chamber.'

Having said this he departed, leaving me in astonishment at the mysterious turn of his manner and conversation. His assurances that I should soon be relieved from the apparition's visits produced a good effect upon my constitution. Theodore, whom I rather treated as an adopted child than a domestic, was surprised, at his return, to observe the amendment in my looks. He congratulated me on this

and torture this youth? How can rest be restored to thy unquiet spirit?' 'I dare not tell, I must not tell. Fain would I repose in my grave, but stern commands force me to prolong my punishment!' 'Knowest thou this blood? Knowest thou in whose veins it flowed? Beatrice! Beatrice! in his name I charge thee to answer me.' 'I dare not disobey my taskers.'

Darest thou disobey me?' He spoke in a commanding tone, and drew the sable band from his forehead. In spite of his injunction to the contrary, curiosity would not suffer me to keep my eyes off his face: I raised them, and beheld a burning cross impressed upon his brow. For the horror with which this object inspired me I cannot account, but I never felt its equal. My senses left me for some moments; a mysterious dread overcame my courage; and had not the exorciser caught my hand, I should have fallen out of the circle. When I recovered myself, I perceived that the burning cross had produced an effect no less violent upon the spectre. Her countenance expressed reverence and horror, and her visionary limbs were shaken by fear. 'Yes,' she said at length, I tremble at that mark! I respect it! I obey you! Know, then, that my bones lie still unburied-they rot in the obscurity of Lindenberg-hole. None but

this youth has the right of consigning them to the grave. His own lips have made over to me his body and his soul; never will I give back his promise; never shall he know a night devoid of terror unless he engages to collect my mouldering bones, and deposit them in the family vault of his Andalusian castle. Then let thirty masses be said for the repose of my spirit, and I trouble this world no more. Now let me depart; those flames are scorching.'

He let the hand drop slowly which held the crucifix, and which till then he had pointed towards her. The apparition bowed her head, and her form melted into air.

boldness of his speculations and opinions, and his
apparent depth and ardour of feeling, were curiously
contrasted with his plodding habits, his imperturb-
able temper, and the quiet obscure simplicity of his
life and manners. The most startling and astound-
ing theories were propounded by him with undoubt-
ing confidence; and sentiments that, if reduced to

MRS OPIE.

MRS AMELIA OPIE (Miss Alderson of Norwich), the widow of John Opie, the celebrated artist, commenced her literary career in 1801, when she published her domestic and pathetic tale of The Father and Daughter. Without venturing out of ordinary life, Mrs Opie invested her narrative with deep interest, by her genuine painting of nature and passion, her animated dialogue, and feminine delicacy of feeling. Her first novel has gone through eight editions, and is still popular. A long series of works of fiction has since proceeded from the pen of this lady. Her Simple Tales, in four volumes, 1806; New Tales, four volumes, 1818; Temper, or Domestic Scenes, a tale, in three volumes; Tales of Real Life, three volumes; Tales of the Heart, four volumes; are all marked by the same characteristics-the portraiture of domestic life, drawn with a view to regulate the heart and affections. In 1828 Mrs Opie published a moral treatise, entitled Detraction Displayed, in order to expose that most common of all vices,' which she says justly is found in every class or rank in society, from the peer to the peasant, from the master to the valet, from the mistress to the maid, from the most learned to the most ignorant, from the man of genius to the meanest capacity.' The tales of this lady have been thrown into the shade by the brilliant fictions of Scott, the stronger moral delineations of Miss Edgeworth, and the generally masculine character of our more modern literature. She is, like Mackenzie, too uniformly pathetic and tender. She can do nothing well,' says Jeffrey, that requires to be done with formality, and therefore has not succeeded in copying either the concentrated force of weighty and deliberate reason, or the severe and solemn dignity of majestic virtue. To make amends, however, she represents admirably everything that is amiable, generous, and gentle.' Perhaps we should add to this the power of exciting and harrowing up the feelings in no ordinary degree. Some of her short tales are full of gloomy and terrific painting, alternately resembling those of Godwin and Mrs Radcliffe.

In Miss Sedgwick's Letters from Abroad (1841), we find the following notice of the venerable novelist: I owed Mrs Opie a grudge for having made me in my youth cry my eyes out over her stories; but her fair cheerful face forced me to forget it. She long ago forswore the world and its vanities, and adopted the Quaker faith and costume; but I fancied that her elaborate simplicity, and the fashionable little train to her pretty satin gown, indicated how much easier it is to adopt a theory than to change one's habits.'

WILLIAM GODWIN.

WILLIAM GODWIN, author of Caleb Williams, was one of the most remarkable men of his times. The

Wiliam Garwin

action, would have overturned the whole framework of society, were complacently dealt out by their author as if they had merely formed an ordinary portion of a busy literary life. Godwin was born at Wisbeach, in Cambridgeshire, on the 3d of March 1756. His father was a dissenting minister-a pious nonconformist-and thus the future novelist may be said to have been nurtured in a love of religious and civil liberty, without perhaps much reverence for existing authority. He soon, however, far overAfter receiving the stepped the pale of dissent. necessary education at the dissenting college at Hoxton, Mr Godwin became minister of a congregation in the vicinity of London. He also officiated for some time at Stowmarket, in Suffolk. About the year 1782, having been five years a nonconformist preacher, he settled in London, and applied himself wholly to literature. His first work was entitled Sketches of History, in Six Sermons; and he shortly afterwards became principal writer in the New Annual Register. He was a zealous political reformer; and his talents were so well known or recommended, that he obtained the large sum of £700 for his next publication. This was his famed Enquiry concerning Political Justice, and its Influences on General Virtue and Happiness, published in 1793. Mr Godwin's work was a sincere advocacy of an intellectual republic-a splendid argument for universal philanthropy and benevolence, and for the omnipotence of mind over matter. His views of the perfectibility of man and the regeneration of society (all private affections and interests being merged in the public good) were clouded by no misgivings, and he wrote with the force of conviction, and with no ordinary powers of persuasion and eloquence. The Enquiry was highly successful, and went through several

560

which the author delighted, but often carried be- the story will show the materials with which Godyond truth and nature. The vindictive feelings win framed his spell.' Caleb Williams, an inteldelineated in Mandeville' are pushed to a revolt- ligent young peasant, is taken into the house of ing extreme. Passages of energetic and beautiful Mr Falkland, the lord of the manor, in the capacity composition-reflective and descriptive-are to be of amanuensis, or private secretary. His master found in the novel; and we may remark, that as is kind and compassionate, but stately and solemn the author advanced in years, he seems to have cul- in manner. An air of mystery hangs about him; tivated more sedulously the graces of language and his address is cold, and his sentiments impenetrable; diction. The staple of his novels, however, was and he breaks out occasionally into fits of causeless taken from the depths of his own mind-not from jealousy and tyrannical violence. One day Williams extensive surveys of mankind or the universe; and surprises him in a closet, where he heard a deep it was obvious that the oft-drawn-upon fountain be- groan expressive of intolerable anguish, then the lid gan to dry up, notwithstanding the luxuriance of of a trunk hastily shut, and the noise of fastening the foliage that shaded it. We next find Mr God- a lock. Finding he was discovered, Falkland flies win combating the opinions of Malthus upon popu- into a transport of rage, and threatens the intruder lation (1820), and then setting about an elaborate with instant death if he does not withdraw. The History of the Commonwealth. The great men of astonished youth retires, musing on this strange that era were exactly suited to his taste. Their re- scene. His curiosity is awakened, and he learns solute energy of character, their overthrow of the part of Falkland's history from an old confidential monarchy, their republican enthusiasm and strange steward-how that his master was once the gayest notions of faith and the saints, were well adapted to of the gay, and had achieved honour and fame fire his imagination and stimulate his research. The abroad, till on his return he was persecuted with a history extended to four large volumes, which were malignant destiny. His nearest neighbour, Tyrrel, published at intervals between 1824 and 1828. It a man of estate equal to his own, but of coarse and is evident that Mr Godwin tasked himself to pro- violent mind and temper, became jealous of Falkduce authorities for all he advanced. He took up, land's superior talents and accomplishments, and as might be expected, strong opinions; but in striv- conceived a deadly enmity at him. The series of ing to be accurate and minute, he became too spe- events detailing the progress of this mutual hatred cific and chronological for the interest of his narra- (particularly the episode of Miss Melville) is devetive. It was truly said that the style of his history loped with great skill, but all is creditable to the 'creeps and hitches in dates and authorities.' In high-minded and chivalrous Falkland. The con1830 Mr Godwin published Cloudesley, a tale, in duct of Tyrrel becomes at length so atrocious, that three volumes. Reverting to his first brilliant per- the country gentlemen shun his society. He informance as a novelist, he made his new hero, like trudes himself, however, into a rural assembly, an Caleb Williams, a person of humble origin, and he altercation ensues, and Falkland indignantly uparrays him against his patron; but there the pa- braids him, and bids him begone. Amidst the hootrallel ends. The elastic vigour, the verisimilitude, ings and reproaches of the assembly, Tyrrel retires, the crowding incidents, the absorbing interest, and but soon returns inflamed with liquor, and with one the overwhelming catastrophe of the first novel, blow of his muscular arm levels Falkland to the are not to be found in Cloudesley.' There is even ground. His violence is repeated, till he is again little delineation of character. Instead of these we forced to retreat. This complication of ignominy, have fine English, 'clouds of reflections without any base, humiliating, and public, stung the proud and new occasion to call them forth; an expanded flow sensitive Falkland to the soul; he left the room; of words without a single pointed remark.' The but one other event closed the transactions of that next production of this veteran author was a meta- memorable evening-Tyrrel was found dead in the physical treatise, Thoughts on Man, &c.; and his street, having been murdered (stabbed with a knife) last work (1834) a compilation, entitled Lives of the at the distance of a few yards from the assembly Necromancers. In his later years Mr Godwin en- house. From this crisis in Falkland's history joyed a small government office, yeoman usher commenced his gloomy and unsociable melancholyof the Exchequer, which was conferred upon him life became a burden to him. A private investigaby Earl Grey's ministry. In the residence attached tion was made into the circumstances of the murder; to this appointment, in New Palace Yard, he ter- but Falkland, after a lofty and eloquent denial of minated his long and laborious scholastic life on the all knowledge of the crime, was discharged with 7th of April 1836. No man ever panted more every circumstance of honour, and amidst the plauardently, or toiled more heroically, for literary fame; dits of the people. A few weeks afterwards, a and we think that, before he closed his eyes, he must peasant, named Hawkins, and his son were taken have been conscious that he had left something so up on some slight suspicion, tried, condemned, and written to after-times, as they should not willingly executed for the murder. Justice was satisfied, but let it die.' a deepening gloom had settled on the solitary Falkland. Williams heard all this, and joined in pitying the noble sufferer; but the question occurred to him -was it possible, after all, that his master should be the murderer? The idea took entire possession of his mind. He determined to place himself as a watch upon Falkland-a perpetual stimulus urged him on. Circumstances, also, were constantly occurring to feed his morbid inquisitiveness. At length a fire broke out in the house during Falkland's absence, and Williams was led to the room containing the mysterious trunk. With the energy of uncontrollable passion he forced it open, and was in the act of lifting up the lid, when Falkland entered, wild, breathless, and distraction in his looks. The first act of the infuriate master was to present a pistol at the head of the youth, but he instantly

'Caleb Williams' is unquestionably the most interesting and original of Mr Godwin's novels, and is altogether a work of extraordinary art and power. It has the plainness of narrative and the apparent reality of the fictions of Defoe or Swift, but is far more pregnant with thought and feeling, and touches far higher sympathies and associations. The incidents and characters are finely developed and contrasted, an intense earnestness pervades the whole, and the story never flags for a moment. The lowness of some of the scenes never inspires such disgust as to repel the reader, and the awful crime of which Falkland is guilty is allied to so much worth and nobleness of nature, that we are involuntarily led to regard him with feelings of exalted pity and commiseration. A brief glance at

changed his resolution, and ordered him to with- that I had determined impartially and justly. I draw. Next day Falkland disclosed the secret. I believed that, if Mr Falkland were permitted to am the blackest of villains; I am the murderer of persist in his schemes, we must both of us be comTyrrel; I am the assassin of the Hawkinses!' He pletely wretched. I believed that it was in my power, made Williams swear never to disclose the secret, by the resolution I had formed, to throw my share of on pain of death or worse. I am,' said Falkland, this wretchedness from me, and that his could scarcely 'as much the fool of fame as ever; I cling to it as be increased. It appeared, therefore, to my mind to my last breath: though I be the blackest of villains, be a mere piece of equity and justice, such as an I will leave behind me a spotless and illustrious impartial spectator would desire, that one person name: there is no crime so malignant, no scene of should be miserable in preference to two, that one blood so horrible, in which that object cannot engage person, rather than two, should be incapacitated from me.' Williams took the oath and submitted. His acting his part, and contributing his share to the spirit, however, revolted at the servile submission general welfare. I thought that in this business I that was required of him, and in time he escaped had risen superior to personal considerations, and from the house. He was speedily taken, and accused judged with a total neglect of the suggestions of selfat the instance of Falkland of abstracting valuable regard. It is true Mr Falkland was mortal: but notproperty from the trunk he had forced open on the withstanding his apparent decay, he might live long. day of the fire. He was cast into prison. The in- Ought I to submit to waste the best years of my life terior of the prison, and its wretched inmates, are in my present wretched situation? He had declared then described with great minuteness. Williams, to that his reputation should be for ever inviolate; this whom the confinement became intolerable, escaped. was his ruling passion, the thought that worked his He is first robbed and then sheltered by a band of soul to madness. He would probably, therefore, leave robbers-he is forced to flee for his life-assumes a legacy of persecution to be received by me, from the different disguises-is again in prison, and again hands of Gines, or some other villain equally atroNow or escapes; but misery and injustice meet him at every cious, when he should himself be no more. step. He had innocently fastened on himself a never was the time for me to redeem my future life from endless wo. second enemy, a villain named Gines, who from a highwayman had become a thief-taker; and the incessant exertions of this fellow, tracking him from place to place like a blood-hound, are related with uncommon spirit and effect. The whole of these adventures possess an enchaining interest, and cannot be perused without breathless anxiety. The innocence of Williams, and the manifestations of his character-artless, buoyant, and fast maturing under this stern discipline-irresistibly attract and carry forward the reader. The connection of Falkland and Williams is at last wound up in one scene of overpowering interest, in which the latter comes forward publicly as the accuser of his former master. The place is the hall of a magistrate of the metropolitan town of Falkland's county.

[Concluding Scene of Caleb Williams.]

I can conceive of no shock greater than that I received from the sight of Mr Falkland. His appearance on the last occasion on which we met had been haggard, ghost-like, and wild, energy in his gestures, and phrensy in his aspect. It was now the appearance of a corpse. He was brought in in a chair, unable to stand, fatigued and almost destroyed by the journey he had just taken. His visage was colourless; his limbs destitute of motion, almost of life. His head reclined upon his bosom, except that now and then he lifted it up, and opened his eyes with a languid glance, immediately after which he sank back into his former apparent insensibility. He seemed not to have three hours to live. He had kept his chamber for several weeks, but the summons of the magistrate had been delivered to him at his bedside, his orders respecting letters and written papers being so peremptory that no one dared to disobey them. Upon reading the paper, he was seized with a very dangerous fit; but as soon as he recovered, he insisted upon being conveyed, with all practicable expedition, to the place of appointment. Falkland, in the most helpless state, was still Falkland, firm in command, and capable to extort obedience from every one that approached him. What a sight was this to me! Till the moment that Falkland was presented to my view, my breast was steeled to pity. I thought that I had coolly entered into the reason of the case (passion, in a state of solemn and omnipotent vehemence, always appears to be coolness to him in whom it domineers), and

But all these fine-spun reasonings vanished before Shall I the object that was now presented to me. trample upon a man thus dreadfully reduced? Shall I point my animosity against one whom the system of nature has brought down to the grave? Shall I poison, with sounds the most intolerable to his ears, the last moments of a man like Falkland? It is impossible. There must have been some dreadful mistake in the train of argument that persuaded me to be the There must have been author of this hateful scene. a better and more magnanimous remedy to the evils under which I groaned.

It was too late. The mistake I had committed was solemnly brought before a magistrate to answer to a now gone, past all power of recall. Here was Falkland, charge of murder. Here I stood, having already declared myself the author of the charge, gravely and sacredly pledged to support it. This was my situation; and thus situated I was called upon immediately to act. My whole frame shook. I would eagerly have consented that that moment should have been the last of my existence. I, however, believed that the conduct now most indispensably incumbent on me was to lay the emotions of my soul naked before my hearers. I looked first at Mr Falkland, and then at the magistrate and attendants, and then at Mr Falkland again. My voice was suffocated with agony. I began:-Would to God it were possible for me to retire from this scene without uttering another word! I would brave the consequences-I would submit to any imputation of cowardice, falsehood, and profligacy, rather than add to the weight of misfortune with which Mr Falkland is overwhelmed. But the situation, and the demands of Mr Falkland himself, forbid me. He, in compassion for whose fallen state I would willingly forget every interest of my own, would compel me to accuse, that he might enter upon his justification. I will confess every sentiment of my heart. Mr Falkland well knows-I affirm it in his presence-how unwillingly I have proceeded to this extremity. I have reverenced him; he was worthy of reverence. From the first moment I saw him, I conceived the most ardent admiration. He condescended to encourage me; I attached myself to him with the fulness of affection. He was unhappy; I exerted myself with youthful curiosity to discover the secret of his wo. This was the beginning of misfortune. What shall I say? He was indeed the murderer of Tyrrel! He suffered the Hawkinses to be executed,