gorgeousness of Asiatic ornament, that their "imagination has neither manifested itself in the fine arts, nor in poesy." Her passion for a foppish display of antithesis seduces her into an absurd depreciation of the Greeks, in comparison with the Romans. The Greeks, we are as sured, had not "that sentiment, that considerate will, that national spirit, that patriotic devotion, which distinguished the Romans. The Greeks were to give the momentum to literature and the fine arts. The Romans have communicated to the world the impression of their genius." And after this, not very clear distinction, she babbles about the "history of Sallust, calling up recollections all-powerful in their mastery over the thoughts:" about the "force of soul felt through the beauty of style: " about the "man in the writer:" the "nation in this man," and the "universe at the feet of this nation:" she would make us believe, by this jingle of prettinesses, that Greece has nothing to show but sculptors and poets, and that Demosthenes and Xenophon never existed.

What she really understood, and in what she consequently surpassed herself, was narrative or memoir, and romance. Her opportunities of personal experience and observation, and the peculiar beauty of her style, (its resemblance to oral, rather than written, eloquence) fitted her to excel in the former; while her imagination, and the sort of hectic sensibility, in which she respired, found scope and expression in the latter. She drew from herself, and infused in fictitious pages her actual sensations. "CORINNE," a work unique in itself, and at once lyrical, dramatic, and historical, will always remain a monument, not merely of her taste and intelligence, but of her pathetic power.

Of the moral and religious merits of Madame de Staël we should be loth to speak, were she not forced into a broad light by the indiscreet, however amiable, enthusiasm of her biographer, Madame Necker de Saussure. The office is an ungrateful one: but the interests of society are paramount to the motives of compassion or forbearance towards female weakness. It is time that the confident and pompous claims,

which, if allowed, would have a tendency injurious to the interests of true religion, should at once and for ever be withstood.

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We are told, in language redolent of the French sublimity to which we have already adverted, that " genius similar to that of Madame de Staël is the sole missionary available in a knowing and reasoning, a frivolous and scornful world. Without entering into the temple itself, she has placed herself in the porch and preluded to the sacred choirs before that pagan-hearted multitude, which burns incense to the muses, and stones the prophets:" the climax is still behind: "she has said to tender and enthusiastic souls, Whom ye ignorantly worship, him declare I unto you!!!" Notice-Œuvres Inédites, 1-317.

"

We touch the subject with hesitation-but the lips which preach a God of purity must themselves be pure. The clerical fop who, in a northern journal, elegantly compared the Methodists to vermin, which it was necessary to extirpate by dint of soap and combs, artlessly protested that he always thought that he "breathed in a Christian land:' but, at whatever risk of disturbing the serenity of this smug and comfortable priest, we must declare, that writing oneself down Christian conveys to us no proof of Christian character. Without this, the officiousness of proselytism can produce no effects but what, in our judgment, are utterly worthless: namely, the inducing a set of worldly-minded persons to condescend to patronise religion, and to talk of the beauty of Christian morals. It is confessed, and with some complacency, inconsistent as it may seem, that Delphine was the reality, Corinne the ideal, of Madame de Staël's own character. Is it in such characters that the Christian principle or life is exemplified? Such a kind of religion may suit the "tender and enthusiastic souls whom Madame de Staël addresses and the phraseology explains the religion. But there is no use (there is, indeed, mischief) in cheating people into something which is not religion, by way of making them religious. The apostle, with whom Madame de Staël is so decently compared, spoke out. Without detracting from

tragic tenderness and pious convic tion in this absurd and indecent rant, might have assured herself that she at least was not precisely qualified for the conversion of souls.

We are informed, however, that when consoling others she "soared into such immensity, that bliss and woe, the past and present, the destiny of all and of yourself vanished away: that one solemn sentiment displaced every other, and you seemed to be present at the most august of all spectacles, that of the divinity accomplishing his work of regeneration on the creature, by the terrible, and yet salutary, means of grief." In charity, we would desire to believe that Madame de Staël, who could discuss these subjects eloquently, and -feel them vividly, carried the theory in her own instance into practical effect: but though she harangued on religion, and felt the poetry of religion, we require some better proof of her submission to its power, of her surrendering up the whole heart to that Being who will not be satisfied with less. We have little respect for that crazy piety which may possibly pass current in the boudoirs of Parisian devotees. For sound and practical views, rational plans, and scriptural motives, we have a weak, credulous superstition; a pampered morbidness of enthusiasm; and the lack-a-daisical ejaculations of an hysterical gentlewoman. She prays to the departed spirit of her father M. Necker: she makes of him a sort of mediatorial ghost, through whose intervention she may extort blessings from the Deity: if any thing befals her, which she deems fortunate, she exclaims, "My father has obtained this for me:" and we hear of sighs, of exclamations, of pious invocations (as of the ci-devant finance-minister, we suppose) and of broken sentences escaping from her, of the following rational and edifying description: "poor human nature! alas! what are we? ah! this life, this life!" How worthy this of the precentor of the Christian priesthood!

We cheerfully accord to Madame de Staël a certain adroit penetration of men and things, a nervous, flowing, and sometimes affecting elocution; a lively genius for politics; liberal political views; great talents for conversation" a rare magnificence of

eyes," as we are assured by her fair cousin; many sprightly captivations, and many really amiable and generous natural qualities: but neither her own laboured defence of the "moral design of Delphine," nor her expressed intention of writing a book with the title of "The Education of the Heart by the Life," although Madame Necker argues, that the mere project of composing such a book demonstrates that she felt the sentiment of continual amelioration, will convince us that the sentiment was anything more than felt, or that the interests of religion could safely be entrusted to her hands.

We need not discuss the merits of her persecution by Bonaparte. The despotism of a new government sticceeding an interregnum of factious anarchy is not the least defensible of despotisms. "They pretend," said Napoleon, "that she talks neither of me nor of politics: but I don't know how it happens, they who have seen her like me less. She turns people's heads (elle monte les têtes) in a way that does not suit me." If this lively lady was busy and loquacious in the ticklish crisis of a new dynasty, her exile was only the natural effect of a plausible state policy.

The "Ten Years' Exile" is an unfinished work, and, in fact, embraces only the period of seven years. There is an interval of six years between the two parts of the narrative, which commences in 1800, and abruptly terminates at Madame de Staël's arrival in Sweden, in 1812. With the circumstances personal to herself she incorporates reflections on some of the characters that figured in the French government, the state of France, the policy and disposition of Bonaparte, and the manners and institutions of the countries which she traverses, particularly Russia. These are marked by some cleverness, and some haste.

Of the translation, we can only say with Dangle in the Critic, that the "Interpreter is the more difficult to be understood of the two." After just hovering over the "System of fusion, adopted by Bonaparte," in the titular contents of the third chapter, (by which we conjecture is meant amalgamation) we must beg to pounce on a passage in pages 20, 21 (page 16 in the French.)"The public, at

the end of a certain time, appears to me always equitable: self-love must accustom itself to do credit to praise for in due time, we obtain as much of that as we deserve." But faire credit à la louange is "to allow praise a long credit:" she is sure to pay us in the end.

In the eighth chapter we are told, in some observations reflecting on the manners of the new Imperial Court, Bonaparte himself is embarrassed on occasions of representation." What this possibly can mean we may defy any one to discover, till he turns to the original, "Bonaparte lui même a de l'embarras quand il s'agit de representation." He betrays embarrassment when figure or manner is wanting.

This is quite enough. We think any garreteering wight, "who turns a Persian tale for half a crown," might have avoided a rap on the knuckles for such school-boy slips as these.

The book, which forms a part of the "Œuvres Inédites," has by this time lost much of its interest: and that interest, from its comparatively limited and personal nature, is inferior to that of her "Considerations on the French Revolution." We are somewhat sickened by the flatteries of the

magnanimous Alexander, and we detect the satire of an ill-used woman in the "still-beginning never-ending" railing on Bonaparte. The little man has grown taller in esteem since the field has been left clear for the legitimate despots, who put down popular liberty, in states independent of their jurisdiction, from sheer piety, and who do not want learned men," but passive subjects. Yet it must be admitted that she had a shrewd insight into many parts of his character. Of the style, the following strikes us as a pleasing specimen, and characteristic of the writer. We recognise something of that poetical energy which we had felt and admired in Corinne.

"I walked about with deep melancholy in that beautiful city of Petersburg, which might become the prey of the conqueror. When I returned in the evening from the islands, and saw the gilded point of the citadel, which seemed to spout out in the air like a ray of fire, while the Neva reflected the marble quays and palaces which surrounded it, I represented to myself all these wonders faded by the arrogance of a man, who would come to say, like Satan on the top of the mountain, "The kingdoms of the earth are mine."

JOHN CLARE.

THE pleasantest hour, perhaps, of human life, is when a man, becoming master of his own actions, and with his first earned money in his hand, gazes along the opening vista of existence, and sees, in silent speculation, the objects of his ambition appearing before him in their shadowy succession of peace, and enjoyment, and glory. Out of a few hard-won shillings, the peasant frames visions of rustic wealth, whitens the mountains with his flocks, and covers the plain with clover and corn. The seaman casts his future anchor on a coast of silver, and gold, and precious stones; and sees his going and returning sails wafting luxury and riches. The poet, in his first verse, feels a thrill of unbounded joy he is never to experience again; he hears Fame sounding her trumpet at his approach, and imagines his songs descending through the most delightful of all modes of publication-the sweet lips of millions of fair maidens, now and for evermore. It was with feelings of this kind that I arranged the purchases my first wealth made, in a handsome pack secured with bolt and lock; and proceeded to follow the gainful and healthful calling of a packman among the dales of Dumfrieshire and the green hills of Galloway. On the first morning of my trade, I halted in every green lane, spread out the motley contents of my box in orderly array before me, then placed them again in the box, and recommenced my march, amid busy calculation of the probable proceeds of my industry.

A little before noon, on a sweet morning of summer, I had seated myself on the summit of a little green fairy hill which overlooks the ancient abbey of Bleeding-Heart;

VOL. IV.

Burns.

and, spreading out all the articles I had to offer for sale before me, I indulged, unconsciously, in the following audible speculation:-" A pleasant story and a merry look will do much among the young; and a sedate face and a grave tale will win me a lodging from the staid and devout. For the bonnie lass and the merry lad, have I not the choicest ballads and songs? For the wise and the grave, do I lack works of solemn import, from the Prophecies of Peden, and the Crumb of Comfort, up to Salvation's Vantage-Ground, or a Loupingon-Stone for Heavy Believers? Then for those who are neither lax on the one hand, nor devout on the other, but stand as a stone in the wall, neither in the kirk nor out of it, have I not books of as motley a nature as they? And look at these golden laces, these silken snoods, and these ivory bosom-busks,-though I will not deny that a well-faured lass has a chance to wheedle me out of a lace, or a ribbon, with no other money than a current kiss, and reduce my profit, yet I must even lay it the heavier on new-married wives, rosy young widows, and lasses with fee and bounty in their laps. It would be a sad thing if love for a sonsie lass should make me a loser.” An old dame in a gray linsey-woolsey gown, a black silk riding hood pinned beneath her chin, with a large calfskin-covered Bible under her arm, had approached me unseen. She fell upon me like a whirlwind:-" O! thou beardless trickster, thou seventeen year old scant-o'-grace, wilt thou sit planning among God's daylight how to overreach thy neighbour? My sooth lad, but thou art a gleg one. I question if William Mackfen himself, who has cheated

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