1815.] Review of Walter Scott's Field of Waterloo. Still the more eminent poets of late times have betrayed no love for such subjects. Probably they have considered them as at once difficult and vulgar. A victory which expands every bosom, and animates every voice, from the throne to the hovel, is beyond poetry. No energy of song can satisfy the enthusiasm which the first simple relation of the event has infallibly excited in the national feeling. No music of accompanying numbers, no embodying power of expression, no enriching garniture of faney, can add to its inherent claims on the attention and heart. And, in the mean time, the popularity of the subject has recommended it to a host of scribblers. Every catchpenny rhymer," high in Drurylane," flies to a field of battle after an engagement, as regularly as a camp-follower; and it is with the same object, that of raking among the corpses of the valiant, and the shields of the mighty, for some miserable pittance of personal advantage. The greater poets, therefore, have generally receded from the task, and have left it open to antagonists over whom a victory could confer no honour. We believe that the Ode of Mr. Campbell, on the Battle of Copenhagen, affords only an apparent exception to this remark; that spirited production not having been published (as far as we remember) till some time after the signal event it records. But Mr. Scott made a very near approach to the former practice in his Don Roderick, and 751 has completely revived it in Waterloo.. Nor does the haste in which he has confessedly dispatched his present work, nor do the imperfections which that haste has occasioned, at all impair the resempositions of the same class. There blance of the poem to elder com is this distinguishing circumstance, his predecessors, that they poured however, between Mr. Scott and chiefly for the purpose of obtaining forth their occasional rejoicings profit or patronage; while he celebrates the glory of his countrymen with the nobler object of relieving the sufferings by which that glory was purchased. Mr. Scott now has to hazard, the Considering the reputation which strength of his competitors in the poetic lists, and that he is watched by the eyes of no friendly criticism, it argues some nerve and courage that he should have enterprised on such a subject as the present, and without any adequate command of leisure or solitude. There is something enchanting, especially at first view, in this carelessness of fame. It appears to resemble the bold and free indifference of a border-chieftain, who fights, and takes, and gives, and spends; and still with the same generous disdainfulness, both of petty gains and petty hindrances. The border-chieftains, however, than a fine texture; and it seems were characters rather of a strong questionable whether this free expenditure of fame can be carried some surrender of that delicate beyond a certain limit, without companion of genius. In staking self-respect which is the proper an established and an envied reputation on a careless effort, a great man, unless he is compelled by urgent necessity, scarcely does justice to himself. There are writers, who, having made a single 5 D 2 pled for life. Their genius flowers but once. Because, however, this shrinking timidity is not only poor and ignoble, but is in its principle reprehensibly selfish and worldly, it does not follow that we should rush into the opposite extreme, or should lavishly waste a treasure so costly as the estimation of mankind. Let it not be thought that these observations are intended to support the commonly-received notions respecting the value of fame. The desire of praise has been too indulgently spoken of by most writers; from the celebrated genius, who had, perhaps, some excuse for counting it the "last infirmity of noble minds," to those more disinterested subjects of the same passion, who hold it to be no infirmity at all, or wha evidently give it that appellation by way of endearment. The principle in this matter is easily settled, however difficult the practice. Fame is one -part, or one form, of prosperity in general; and, therefore, must be viewed in the same light, and treated in the same manner. Consequently, it must be received thankfully, enjoyed moderately, used beneficially, and (when necessary) resigned cheerfully. These very rules, however, imply that it is to be economised, not wasted. It is a talent, for the employment of which the recipient is responsible. It must, therefore, neither be idolized, nor buried, nor squandered. But we are fast digressing into dissertation. connexion. The interruptions of a continental journey are a very good reason for writing imperfectly, but they are none for publishing what is thus imperfectly written. The meaning, therefore, is, that the journey accounts for the imperfections, and the subscription for sending them into the world. It is impossible not to appreciate, and very sincerely, the patriotism and humanity of the author; but it may be observed, that a subscription so nobly flourishing, so richly overflowing, as that for the Waterloo fund, could have afforded to wait a week longer both for his contribution and for his respected example, and that possibly the delay might have been more than compensated by the increased efficiency of the publication when it came. - It is proper to observe, that Mr. Scott modestly apologizes for the imperfections of his pen. He states, "that it was composed hastily, during a short tour on the continent, when the author's labours were liable to frequent interruption." But what he deems its best vindication is, "that it was written for the purpose of assisting the Waterloo subscription." He, doubtless, intended that these two grounds of apology should be considered in From what has been said, it will be perceived that we are not disposed to class the Field of Waterloo among the highest productions of its great author. The truth is, that this poem reininds us far less of the three first and mightiest epics of Mr. Scott, than of Rokeby, aud the Lord of the Isles; compositions which discovered the same mind as before, but that mind either jaded by the frequency of writing, of made careless by success. They were no every-day productions, but (if we may, without impropriety, so apply a sacred phrase) they "attained not to the first three." Waterloo certainly bears clear vestiges of the genius of Mr. Scott; but those marks are not frequent. If the author had not said for the poem that it was composed in haste, the poem would have said it for itself. It is always, however, reckoned an advantage to begin well; and to this merit the work may confidently lay claim. It is gratifying to us (and we trust the reader will share our pleasure), to be able to commence our extracts with so long a passage as the following, which opens the composition, consider Forms an opposing screen, yo! ing that it can be thought long only Which, with its crest of upland ground, when the lines are counted. No opening glade dawns on our way, Prolongs a line of dull arcade, Shuts the horizon all around. Slopes smooth and fair for courser's tread; Not the most timid maid need dread To give her snow-white palfrey head Save where, from out her shatter'd Rise Hougoumont's dismantled towers." pp. 9-13.' This passage cannot fail to gratify the admirers of Mr., Scott, as being eminently characteristic of the author. It has indeed the true border-chine; which, perhaps, notwithstanding its unquestionable beauty, begins somewhat to pall on the public ear. But it has, what is better, all Mr. Scott's ease, Unvarying through the unvaried shade, spirit, perspicuity, and simplicity. Until in distance lost, A brighter, livelier scene succeeds; . scythe: But when these ears were green, Placed close within destruction's scope, Full little was that rustic's hope Their ripening to have seen! Their architecture view; Fear not the heat, though full and high To shade us spreads a greenwood bough; These fields have seen a hotter day Looks on the field below, In easier curves can flow. "Brief space from thence, the ground again Ascending slowly from the plain, Here is no exaggeration of expression or of sentiment. Here is no trembling on the threshold of a great subject, no nervous impatience for action. Here is no effort to strike fire by a singular and unthought-of commencement, no morbid eagerness to be origiual. Nothing appears which might not have found a place in the feelings or in the narrative of an ordinary traveller, except that by Mr. Scott it is felt more strongly and told better. All is free, bold, and clear; all easy and flowing as the folds of beauty's veil." - There is undoubtedly some mannerism in the style of Mr. Scott; that is, in the structure of his senbut there is none in his sentitences and the cadence of his verse; ments, and in his language none worth mentioning. He has no oddities, no angles of any sort. Of all living poets, Mr. Scott is perhaps the most simple. The simplicity of some others is itself a species of manner; that of Mr. Scott is, what simplicity should be, the absence of all manner. This, indeed, constitutes the great charm of the poems on which his fame principally rests. They owe their currency, not so much to the happy introduction of a new and strange species of poetic harmony, as to the nature, graphic truth, and unlaboured clearness, both of their narrative and their episodic parts. Had it not been for the possession of these essential excellences, the adventitious aid of "the old border day," with its forayers, its mosstroopers, its bill-men, and its seneschals, could have secured to those compositions but a limited existence, and perhaps the Lay of the Last Ministrel might have proved the last lay of the author. But their main merit lay deeper; and it was deeply felt, though not distinctly marked or highly praised. These remarks apply to the landscape-scenery of Mr. Scott, the subject more particularly 'suggested to our consideration by the last extract. Comparing his style in this department with that of contemporary poets, he appears a more natural painter of nature than any of them. They indeed represent her very powerfully; but it is less as she is, than as she would be under particular circumstances, or in the eyes of a supposed observer of singular and romantic habits or character. Perhaps they paint her as she appears to the recluse in a moment of voluptuous pensiveness, -when creation seems all thought, all feeling, all sentiment, all voice, -breathing forth the tenderest enthusiasm, and overflowing with a pleasure as sad as sorrow. Or perhaps, amidst a beautiful landscape, they plant some mighty but fallen intelligence,-some terrible outcast from the communion of human hopes and fears, who colours the surrounding region with the blackness of a lost destiny, and peoples every shade with his own furies. Thus they teach us, not merely to associate mind with the objects we behold, (for this perhaps we always do, how ever unconsciously,) but to asso ciate with them mind of a peculiar cast. Receiving a strong impres sion of the described or implied observer, we carry his presence along with us: we cannot help in some measure catching his tone, and seeing with his eyes, and feeling with his feelings;--and thus add to nature an interest which, however forcible or bewitching, is certainly not her own. The landscape-painting, of Mr. Scott is in a plainer and less peculiar style. He seeks not to give a zest to his picture, by Binging across it the dark lights of melancholy, or the heavy shadows of despair. He deals in no strong clear obscures, nor washes over his day-lights with romantic tints of sapphire, or emerald, or crimson. His subject is common nature; and, even where he chooses an extraordinary scene, he delineates it in its ordinary state, and as it would strike the eyes of an ordinary spectator. He sees what we all see; only he sees it with a more powerful, more piercing, more discriminative vision. In reading his descriptions, we seem to contemplate some familiar prospect through a purer, drier, lighter atmosphere than usual. Every distance is determinately marked. Every boundary is cut so finely, every line traced with such precise definition, that the objects all stand out in void space. The spires sharpen, as it were, to a needle's point, and the outline of the smallest leaf ap pears drawn by a fairy's pencil on the clear marble sky. The effect is magical, though there is nothing new. The eye seems rather to feel than to see, and delights itself in a sense of keen perspicacity. The description which has been cited from the present poem, of the wood of Soignies, and the field of Waterloo, surely exhibits, notwithstanding the confined nature of its subject, all that lucid distinctness for which we have just been giving the poet credit. It betrays, though on a narrower scale, the same hand Aud feel'st thou not the tainted steam, Her garner-house profound. which furnished the masterly de- Far other harvest-home and feast, On these scorch'd fields were known! Now, see'st then aught in this lone Sent for the bloody bauquet out 1221 scene As Teniers loved to draw; A summons of his own." pp. 13-17, This extract has the same freedom, spirit, and naturalness, which distinguished the former. But the harvest lasts a little too long. It is somewhat unfortunate for Mr. Scott, that, in the application of his border-style to modern fighting, he has been anticipated by an imitator of his own. The poem of Talavera set the example of such And where the earth seems scored by application; and with considerable, flame But other harvest here though perhaps with over-praised, effect. The consequence is, that on this field, the original author himself wears the appearance of a copyist, by having temporarily suf fered one of his attendants to precede him in the chase. Several parts of Waterloo strike the ear as Than that which peasant's scythe de echoes of Talavera; and, among mands, Was gather'd in by sterner hands, With bayonet, blade, and spear.' Fell thick as ripen'd grain; Aye, look again-that line so black So often lost and won; The fierce dragoon, through battle's Dash'd the hot war-horse on, These spots of excavation tell The ravage of the bursting shell the rest, the metaphor of the har- A chasm in the volum❜d smoke, Is gather'd in the grave." 6th ed. p. 21. After extending a little farther the personification of Death, Mr. Scott thus animatedly describes the |