consider some as particularly conspicuous. How strong and nervous the
second and fourth lines! How happily expressive the two Alexandrines!
What a luminous idea does the epithet "murky" present to us! How
original and picturesque that of the "clotted tear!" If the same
expression be found in the Ode to Howard, let it however be considered,
that the exact propriety of that image to wash it from the face (for how
else, candid reader, could a tear already clotted be removed) is a clear
improvement, and certainly entitles the author to a repetition. Lastly,
how consistent the assemblage, how admirable the climax in the last six
lines! Incomparable they might appear, but we recollect a passage nearly
equal in the Essay on History,
"_Wild_ as thy _feeble_ Metaphysic page,
Thy History _rambles_ into _Steptic rage_;
Whose giddy and fantastic _dreams abuse_,
A Hampden's Virtue and a Shakespeare's Muse."
How elevated the turn of this passage! To be at once luxuriant and
feeble, and to lose one's way till we get into a passion, (with our
guide, I suppose) is peculiar to a poetic subject. It is impossible to
mistake this for prose. Then how pathetic the conclusion! What hard
heart can refuse its compassion to personages _abused_ by a _dream_, and
that dream the _dream of a History!_
Oh, wonderful poet, thou shalt be immortal, if my eulogiums can make
thee so! To thee thine own rhyme shall never be applied, (_Dii, avertite
omen_).
"Already, pierc'd by freedom's searching rays,
The waxen fabric of his fame decays!"
ARTICLE VII.
INKLE AND YARICO, A POEM, BY JAMES BEATTIE, L.L.D. 4TO.
This author cannot certainly be compared with Mr. Hayley.
We know not by what fatality Dr. Beattie has acquired the highest
reputation as a philosopher, while his poetry, though acknowledged to be
pleasing, is comparatively little thought on. It must always be with
regret and diffidence, that we dissent from the general verdict. We
should however be somewhat apprehensive of sacrificing the character we
have assumed, did we fail to confess that his philosophy has always
appeared to us at once superficial and confused, feeble and
presumptuous. We do not know any thing it has to recommend it, but the
good intention, and we wish we could add the candid spirit, with which
it is written.
Of his poetry however we think very differently. Though deficient in
nerve, it is at once sweet and flowing, simple and amiable. We are happy
to find the author returning to a line in which he appears so truly
respectable. The present performance is by no means capable to detract
from his character as a poet. This well known tale is related in a
manner highly pathetic and interesting. As we are not at all desirous of
palling the curiosity of the reader for the poem itself, we shall make
our extract at random. The following stanzas, as they are taken from a
part perfectly cool and introductory, are by no means the best in this
agreeable piece. They are prefaced by some general reflexions on the
mischiefs occasioned by the _sacra fames auri_. The reader will perceive
that Dr. Beattie, according to the precept of Horace, has rushed into
the midst of things, and not taken up the narrative in chronological
order.
"Where genial Phoebus darts his fiercest rays,
Parching with heat intense the torrid zone:
No fanning western breeze his rage allays;
No passing cloud, with kindly shade o'erthrown,
His place usurps; but Phoebus reigns alone,
In this unfriendly clime a woodland shade,
Gloomy and dark with woven boughs o'ergrown,
Shed chearful verdure on the neighbouring glade,
And to th' o'er-labour'd hind a cool retreat display'd.
Along the margin of th' Atlantic main,
Rocks pil'd on rocks yterminate the scene;
Save here and there th' incroaching surges gain
An op'ning grateful to the daisied green;
Save where, ywinding cross the vale is seen
A bubbling creek, that spreads on all sides round
Its breezy freshness, gladding, well I ween,
The op'ning flow'rets that adorn the ground,
From her green margin to the ocean's utmost bound.
The distant waters hoarse resounding roar,
And fill the list'ning ear. The neighb'ring grove
Protects, i'th'midst that rose, a fragrant bow'r,
With nicest art compos'd. All nature strove,
With all her powers, this favour'd spot to prove
A dwelling fit for innocence and joy,
Or temple worthy of the god of love.
All objects round to mirth and joy invite,
Nor aught appears among that could the pleasure blight.
Within there sat, all beauteous to behold!
Adorn'd with ev'ry grace, a gentle maid.
Her limbs were form'd in nature's choicest mould,
Her lovely eyes the coldest bosoms sway'd,
And on her breast ten thousand Cupids play'd.
What though her skin were not as lilies fair?
What though her face confest a darker shade?
Let not a paler European dare
With glowing Yarico's her beauty to compare.
And if thus perfect were her outward form,
What tongue can tell the graces of her mind,
Constant in love and in its friendships warm?
There blushing modesty with virtue join'd
There tenderness and innocence combin'd.
Nor fraudful wiles, nor dark deceit she knew,
Nor arts to catch the inexperienc'd hind;
No swain's attention from a rival drew,
For she was simple all, and she was ever true.
There was not one so lovely or so good,
Among the num'rous daughters of the plain;
'Twas Yarico each Indian shepherd woo'd;
But Yarico each shepherd woo'd in vain;
Their arts she view'd not but with cold disdain.
For British Inkle's charms her soul confest,
His paler charms had caus'd her am'rous pain;
Nor could her heart admit another guest,
Or time efface his image in her constant breast,
Her generous love remain'd not unreturn'd,
Nor was the youthful swain as marble cold,
But soon with equal flame his bosom burn'd;
His passion soon in love's soft language told,
Her spirits cheer'd and bad her heart be bold.
Each other dearer than the world beside,
Each other dearer than themselves they hold.
Together knit in firmest bonds they bide,
While days and months with joy replete unnotic'd glide.
Ev'n now beside her sat the British boy,
Who ev'ry mark of youth and beauty bore,
All that allure the soul to love and joy.
Ev'n now her eyes ten thousand charms explore,
Ten thousand charms she never knew before.
His blooming cheeks confest a lovely glow,
His jetty eyes unusual brightness wore,
His auburn locks adown his Shoulders flow,
And manly dignity is seated on his brow."
ARTICLE VIII
THE ALCHYMIST, A COMEDY, ALTERED FROM BEN JONSON, BY RICHARD BRINSLEY
SHERIDAN, ESQ.
There are few characters, that have risen into higher favour with the
English nation, than Mr. Sheridan. He was known and admired, as a man of
successful gallantry, both with the fair sex and his own, before he
appeared, emphatically speaking, upon the public stage. Since that time,
his performances, of the Duenna, and the School for Scandal, have been
distinguished with the public favour beyond any dramatical productions
in the language. His compositions, in gaiety of humour and spriteliness
of wit, are without an equal.
Satiated, it should seem, with the applauses of the theatre, he turned
his attention to public and parliamentary speaking. The vulgar
prejudice, that genius cannot expect to succeed in two different walks,
for some time operated against him. But he possessed merit, and he
compelled applause. He now ranks, by universal consent, as an orator and
a statesman, with the very first names of an age, that will not perhaps
be accounted unproductive in genius and abilities.
It was now generally supposed that he had done with the theatre. For our
own part, we must confess; we entertain all possible veneration for
parliamentary and ministerial abilities; we should be mortified to rank
second to any man in our enthusiasm for the official talents of Mr.
Sheridan: But as the guardians of literature, we regretted the loss of
his comic powers. We wished to preserve the poet, without losing the
statesman. Greatly as we admired the opera and the comedy, we conceived
his unbounded talents capable of something higher still. To say all in a
word, we looked at his hands for the MISANTHROPE of the British muse.
It is unnecessary to say then, that we congratulate the public upon the
present essay. It is meaned only as a _jeu d'esprit_. But we consider it
as the earnest of that perseverance, which we wished to prove, and
feared to lose. The scene we have extracted, and which, with another,
that may be considered as a kind of praxis upon the rules, constitutes
the chief part of the alteration, is apparently personal. How far
personal satire is commendable in general, and how far it is just in the
present instance, are problems that we shall leave with our readers.--As
much as belongs to Jonson we have put in italics.
ACT IV
SCENE 4
_Enter_ Captain Face, _disguised as Lungs, and_ Kastril.
FACE. _Who would you speak with_?
KASTRIL. _Where is the captain?_
FACE.
_Gone, sir, about some business._
KASTRIL.
_Gone?_
FACE.
_He will return immediately. But master doctor, his lieutenant
is here._
KASTRIL.
_Say, I would speak with him._
[_Exit_ Face.
_Enter_ Subtle.
SUBTLE.
_Come near, sir.--I know you well.--You are my_ terrae
fili--_that is--my boy of land--same three thousand pounds a
year._
KASTRIL.
_How know you that, old boy?_
SUBTLE.
_I know the subject of your visit, and I'll satisfy you. Let us
see now what notion you have of the matter. It is a nice point
to broach a quarrel right_.
KASTRIL.
_You lie_.
SUBTLE.
_How now?--give me the lie?--for what, my boy?_
KASTRIL.
_Nay look you to that.--I am beforehand--that's my business_.
SUBTLE.
_Oh, this is not the art of quarrelling--'tis poor and
pitiful_!--What, sir, would you restrict the noble science of
debate to the mere lie?--Phaw, that's a paltry trick, that every
fool could hit.--A mere Vandal could throw his gantlet, and an
Iroquois knock his antagonist down.--No, sir, the art of quarrel
is vast and complicated.--Months may worthily be employed in the
attainment,--and the exercise affords range for the largest
abilities.--To quarrel after the newest and most approved
method, is the first of sciences,--the surest test of genius,
and the last perfection of civil society.
KASTRIL.
You amaze me. I thought to dash the lie in another's face was
the most respectable kind of anger.
SUBTLE.
O lud, sir, you are very ignorant. A man that can only give the
lie is not worth the name of quarrelsome--quite tame and
spiritless!--No, sir, the angry boy must understand, beside the
QUARREL DIRECT--in which I own you have some proficiency--a
variety of other modes of attack;--such as, the QUARREL
PREVENTIVE--the QUARREL OBSTREPEROUS--the QUARREL SENSITIVE--the
QUARREL OBLIQUE--and the QUARREL PERSONAL.
KASTRIL.
O Mr. doctor, that I did but understand half so much of the art
of brangling as you do!--What would I give!--Harkee--I'll settle
an hundred a year upon you.--But come, go on, go on--
SUBTLE.
O sir! you quite overpower me--why, if you use me thus, you will
draw all my secrets from me at once.--I shall almost kick you
down stairs the first lecture.
KASTRIL.
How!--Kick me down stairs?--Ware that--Blood and oons, sir!
SUBTLE.
Well, well,--be patient--be patient--Consider, it is impossible
to communicate the last touches of the art of petulance, but by
fist and toe,--by sword and pistol.
KASTRIL.
Sir, I don't understand you!
SUBTLE.
Enough. We'll talk of that another time.--What I have now to
explain is the cool and quiet art of debate--fit to be
introduced into the most elegant societies--or the most august
assemblies.--You, my angry boy, are in parliament?
KASTRIL.
No, doctor.--I had indeed some thoughts of it.--But imagining
that the accomplishments of petulance and choler would be of no
use there--I gave it up.
SUBTLE.
Good heavens!--Of no use?--Why, sir, they can be no where so
properly.--Only conceive how august a little petulance--and what
a graceful variety snarling and snapping would introduce!--True,
they are rather new in that connexion.--Believe me, sir, there
is nothing for which I have so ardently longed as to meet them
there.--I should die contented.--And you, sir,--if you would
introduce them--Eh?
KASTRIL.
Doctor, you shall be satisfied--I'll be in parliament in a
month--I'll be prime minister--LORD HIGH TREASURER of
ENGLAND--or, CHANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER!
SUBTLE.
Oh, by all means CHANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER! You are somewhat
young indeed--but that's no objection.--Damn me, if the office
can ever be so respectably filled as by an angry boy.
KASTRIL.
True, true.--But, doctor, we forget your instructions all this
time.--Let me see--Ay--first was the QUARREL PREVENTIVE.
SUBTLE.
Well thought of!--Why, sir, in your new office you will be
liable to all sorts of attacks--Ministers always are, and an
angry boy cannot hope to escape.--Now nothing, you know, is so
much to the purpose as to have the first blow--Blunders are very
natural.--Your friends tell one story in the upper house, and
you another in the lower--You shall give up a territory to the
enemy that you ought to have kept, and when charged with it,
shall unluckily drop that you and your colleagues were ignorant
of the geography of the country--You foresee an attack--you
immediately open--Plans so extensively beneficial--accounts so
perfectly consistent--measures so judicious and accurate--no man
can question--no man can object to--but a rascal and a
knave.--Let him come forward!
KASTRIL.
Very good! very good!--For the QUARREL OPSTREPEROUS, that I
easily conceive.--An antagonist objects shrewdly--I cannot
invent an answer.--In that case, there is nothing to be done but
to drown his reasons in noise--nonsense--and vociferation.
SUBTLE.
Come to my arms, my dear Kastril! O thou art an apt
scholar--thou wilt be nonpareil in the art of brawling!--But for
the QUARREL SENSITIVE--
KASTRIL.
Ay, that I confess I don't understand.
SUBTLE.
Why, it is thus, my dear boy--A minister is apt to be
sore.--Every man cannot have the phlegm of Burleigh.--And an
angry boy is sorest of all.--In that case--an objection is made
that would dumbfound any other man--he parries it with--my
honour--and my integrity--and the rectitude of my intentions--my
spotless fame--my unvaried truth--and the greatness of my
abilities--And so gives no answer at all.
KASTRIL.
Excellent! excellent!
SUBTLE.
The QUARREL OBLIQUE is easy enough.--It is only to talk in
general terms of places and pensions--the loaves and the
fishes--a struggle for power--a struggle for power--And it will
do excellent well, if at a critical moment--you can throw in a
hint of some forty or fifty millions unaccounted for by some
people's grandfathers and uncles dead fifty years ago.
KASTRIL.
Ha! ha! ha!
SUBTLE.
Lastly, for the QUARREL PERSONAL--It may be infinitely
diversified.--I have other instances in my eye,--but I will
mention only one.--Minds capable of the widest comprehension,
when held back from their proper field, may turn to lesser
employments, that fools may wonder at, and canting hypocrites
accuse--A CATO might indulge to the pleasures of the bottle, and
a CAESAR might play--Unfortunately you may have a CAESAR to
oppose you--Let him discuss a matter of finance--that subject is
always open--there you have an easy answer. In the former case
you parried, here you thrust.--You must admire at his
presumption--tell him roundly he is not capable of the
subject--and dam his strongest reasons by calling them the
reasons of a gambler.
KASTRIL.
Admirable!--Oh doctor!--I will thank you for ever.--I will do
any thing for you!
[Face _enters at the corner of the stage, winks at_ Subtle, _and
exit._]
SUBTLE.
"_Come, Sir, the captain will come to us presently--I will have
you to my chamber of demonstrations, and show my instrument for
quarrelling, with all the points of the compass marked upon it.
It will make you able to quarrel to a straw's breadth at
moonlight._
Exeunt."
ARTICLE IX.
REFLEXIONS UPON THE PRESENT STATE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. BY
THOMAS PAINE, M.A. &c. 8vo.
The revolution of America is the most important event of the present
century. Other revolutions have originated in immediate personal
feeling, have pointed only at a few partial grievances, or, preserving
the tyranny entire, have consisted only in a struggle about the persons
in whom it should be vested. This only has commenced in an accurate and
extensive view of things, and at a time when the subject of government
was perfectly understood. The persons, who have had the principal share
in conducting it, exhibit a combination of wisdom, spirit and genius,
that can never be sufficiently admired.
In this honourable list, the name of Mr. Paine by no means occupies the
lowest place. He is the best of all their political writers. His
celebrated pamphlet of Common Sense appeared at a most critical period,
and certainly did important service to the cause of independency. His
style is exactly that of popular oratory. Rough, negligent and
perspicuous, it presents us occasionally with the boldest figures and
the most animated language. It is perfectly intelligible to persons of
all ranks, and it speaks with energy to the sturdy feelings of
uncultivated nature. The sentiments of the writer are stern, and we
think even rancorous to the mother country. They may be the sentiments
of a patriot, they are not certainly those of a philosopher.
Mr. Paine has thought fit to offer some advice to his countrymen in the
present juncture, in which, according to some, they stand in
considerable need of it. The performance is not unworthy of the other
productions of this author. It has the same virtues and the same
defects. We have extracted the following passage, as one of the most
singular and interesting.
"America has but one enemy, and that is England. Of the English
it behoves us always to be jealous. We ought to cultivate
harmony and good understanding with every other power upon
earth. The necessity of this caution will be easily shewn. For
1. The united states of America were subject to the government
of England. True, they have acknowledged our independence. But
pride first struggled as much as she could, and sullenness held
off as long as she dare. They have withdrawn their claim upon
our obedience, but do you think they have forgot it? To this
hour their very news-papers talk daily of dissentions between
colony and colony, and the disaffection of this and of that to
the continental interest. They hold up one another in absurdity,
and look with affirmative impatience, when we shall fall
together by the ears, that they may run away with the prize we
have so dearly won. It is not in man to submit to a defalcation
of empire without reluctance. But in England, where every
cobler, slave as he is, hath been taught to think himself a
king, never.
2. The resemblance, of language, customs, will give them the
most ready access to us. The king of England will have
emissaries in every corner. They will try to light up discord
among us. They will give intelligence of all our weaknesses.
Though we have struggled bravely, and conquered like men, we are
not without imperfection. Ambition and hope will be for ever
burning in the breast of our former tyrant. Dogmatical
confidence is the worst enemy America can have. We need not fear
the Punic sword. But let us be upon our guard against the arts
of Carthage.
3. England is the only European state that still possesses an
important province upon our continent. The Indian tribes are all
that stand between us. We know with what art they lately sought
their detested alliance. What they did then was the work of a
day. Hereafter if they act against us, the steps they will
proceed with will be slower and surer. Canada will be their
place of arms. From Canada they will pour down their Indians. A
dispute about the boundaries will always be an easy quarrel. And
if their cunning can inveigle us into a false security, twenty
or thirty years hence we may have neither generals nor soldiers
to stop them."
ARTICLE X.
SPEECH OF THE RIGHT HONOURABLE EDMUND BURKE, ON A MOTION FOR AN ADDRESS
OF THANKS TO HIS MAJESTY (ON THE 28TH OF NOVEMBER, 1783) FOR HIS
GRACIOUS COMMUNICATION OF A TREATY OF COMMERCE CONCLUDED BETWEEN GEORGE
THE THIRD, KING, &C. AND THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
We were very apprehensive upon Mr. Burke's coming into administration,
that this circumstance might have proved a bar to any further additions
to the valuable collection of his speeches already in the hands of the
public. If we imagined that our verdict could make any addition to the
very great and deserved reputation in which they are held, we should not
scruple to say that were Cicero our contemporary, and Mr. Burke the
ancient, we are persuaded that there would not be a second opinion upon
the comparative merits of their orations. In the same degree as the
principles of the latter are unquestionably more unsullied, and his
spirit more independent; do we esteem him to excel in originality of
genius, and sublimity of conception.
We will give two extracts; one animadverting upon the preliminaries of
peace concluded by the earl of Shelburne; the other a character of David
Hartley, Esq.
"I know that it has been given out, that by the ability and
industry of their predecessors we found peace and order
established to our hands; and that the present ministers had
nothing to inherit, but emolument and indolence, _otium cum
dignitate._ Sir, I will inform you what kind of peace and
leisure the late ministers had provided. They were indeed
assiduous in their devotion; they erected a temple to the
goddess of peace. But it was so hasty and incorrect a structure,
the foundation was so imperfect, the materials so gross and
unwrought, and the parts so disjointed, that it would have been
much easier to have raised an entire edifice from the ground,
than to have reduced the injudicious sketch that was made to any
regularity of form. Where you looked for a shrine, you found
only a vestibule; instead of the chapel of the goddess, there
was a wide and dreary lobby; and neither altar nor treasury were
to be found. There was neither greatness of design, nor accuracy
of finishing. The walls were full of gaps and flaws, the winds
whistled through the spacious halls, and the whole building
tottered over our heads.
Mr. Hartley, sir, is a character, that must do honour to his
country and to human nature. With a strong and independent
judgment, with a capacious and unbounded benevolence, he devoted
himself from earliest youth for his brethren and fellow
creatures. He has united a character highly simple and
inartificial, with the wisdom of a true politician. Not by the
mean subterfuges of a professed negociator; not by the dark,
fathomless cunning of a mere statesman; but by an extensive
knowledge of the interest and character of nations; by an
undisguised constancy in what is fit and reasonable; by a clear
and vigorous spirit that disdains imposition. He has met the
accommodating ingenuity of France; he has met the haughty
inflexibility of Spain upon their own ground, and has completely
routed them. He loosened them from all their holdings and
reserves; he left them not a hole, nor a corner to shelter
themselves. He has taught the world a lesson we had long wanted,
that simple and unaided virtue is more than a match for the
unbending armour of pride, and the exhaustless evolutions of
political artifice."
FINIS.