hallowed mummeries of the new faith which heembraces, or one internal lingering after the old creed which he abdicates. Such a divorce between himself and his conscience is effected even without the slightest formalities; and if his mind, while it undergoes this important vicissitude, gives audience to any reflection, or permits any pause to intervene, the scruple is instantly silenced by the general policy to which he has enslaved himself, or the momentary expedient which he designs to effect. He discourses highly, indeed, of free-will, and fate, and chance, in a sort of repose amid the tumult of enormous crimes, like the demons of Milton, while they are bent on the great errand of human destruction: but, even when the extreme agonies of guilty suffering, and the lowest prostration of fortune, have wrung from his soul some bitterness of sentiment akin to remorse, or some vows allied to amendment, the feeling and the purpose are alike evanescent, and he is again thrown on the world, the sport of circumstance, the victim of crime, and the minister of evil. The immediate jewel of his soul he has bartered in the vile commerce of worldly advancement, and thrown away, lest it should retard him in the chace after honour and distinction; and his contract with vice is almost the only one to which he adheres with any thing like fidelity. In all this, is it not evident that there must be some deficiency of that sympathy which is requisite to carry us through the varied fortunes of a hero, occupying the protracted space of three closely printed volumes? The painter of external nature may excite a powerful interest by the grandeur even of crime the potent pencil of Salvator Rosa may arrest and even gratify the eye by the savage dignity of the chief of his banditti: but the moral painter must fascinate the mind, if he wishes to secure its attention, by the charms of the only real sublime, the sublime of virtue.

We know not, therefore, by what instrumentality it is, but so it is, that we are not destitute of something like interest and commiseration even for such a being as Anastasius. Perhaps, as the story is conducted by himself, and we are led along by his own hand through the minuter labyrinths, we on that account identify ourselves more with the intricate workings of his mind, than if we perused it through the medium of ordinary narration. It has the same species of fascination on us, as that which we remember to have felt from Godwin's St. Leon; where the inmost recesses and most secret counsels of the bosom are unveiled; and the whole sweep of the passions, from their first feeble movements to their stormiest agitations, are, as on a busy and crowded stage, presented to our view.

Осса

Occasionally, indeed, we are relieved by affecting portraitures of the kind and genial charities, domestic love, the unshaken constancy of woman through every fortune, the unquenchable zeal of generous friendship, smiling industry, and tranquil virtue. Yet beauty and goodness are introduced only to be deserted, and the most fervent attachment only to be insulted and despised. After a long chain of adventures in Asia Minor, at Constantinople, in the regions in which the Turk has immediate sway, and those in which he has only a delegated influence, in Egypt, in the sands of the desert, or among the hordes of Curdistan, after having "strutted and fretted" through a part in which he is alternately cruel and rapacious, at one time chilled by the blasts of penury, and at another intoxicated by the smiles of pleasure, Anastasius begins to respire from crime, and to breathe a purer atmosphere. Nearly at the close of his career, he discovers the offspring of one of the females whom he has betrayed; and he who was lately insensible to the charms of chaste affection, dead to the impulse of filial and social emotion, and an alien from the raptures of exalted friendship, is visited with the instinctive tenderness of a father. The young and beauteous Alexis will indeed be adopted by every reader with delight partaking of the paternal, for he is a perfect picture of infantine attrac tion:-but, just as his innocent life puts forth its blossoms, and is intwining itself around our hearts, he is cut off from us, as if he had been introduced only to be loved and mourned. Johnson, who was rather a just than a feeling critic, shews himself not devoid of sensibility when he complains of the unnecessary torture which Shakspeare inflicted on his readers by the premature death of the young, the charming, and the innocent Ophelia.

Such is a faint outline of Anastasius. Justice to the author and to our own feelings requires us to add that the book abounds in polished and nervous eloquence, in picturesque descriptions, in lively and occasionally argumentative dialogue; and that, on the whole, though with many prolixities, it is executed with a flow of writing in all and a closeness of reasoning in some of its passages, which are very rarely to be found in works of a similar description. It is diversified with many beauties; and in the remarks on human life, which are scattered about it, we are sometimes reminded of the keen and grave irony of Swift, occasionally of his misanthropy, and not unfrequently of the satiric levity of the most lively of French authors, when he breaks through the enchantments which disguise the varied follies of man in their different forms of usages, fashions, and institutions. We shall now give our readers

B. 4

readers an analysis of the plot and construction of the fiction; extracting some of its picturesque descriptions and affecting delineations; and subjoining a short summary of the critical sentence, which we feel ourselves bound to award to it.

Anastasius was the son of a Greek drogueman, or interpreter to the French consul at the island of Chio; who, though somewhat deaf, and consequently unable to interpret, contrived to supply the deficiencies of his organ by the ingenuity of his conjectures. This boy was the youngest of seven children, and, when the rest of the brood had taken flight, he remained to be spoiled at home. Being unfit for every thing else, he was destined to be a priest of the Greek church: but he was impassive to instruction, and displayed his real dispositions at an early age, by those contributions on the orchards of the village which gave an omen of his future genius. Of these expeditions he was the leader, and became with his companions the terror of the vicinity. In course he did not persevere in his professional studies, but assured his father, when the latter insisted on his taking orders, that the price of his obedience in wearing the mitre (the cap of the Greek priesthood) would be the clapping over it a turban. His idle hours, however, found occupation in a youthful intrigue with the blue-eyed Helena, daughter of the French consul, to whom his father's connection with that gentleman gave him frequent access, and to whose care she had been bequeathed by the early loss of her mother. The joint pursuit of music soon enabled the young Greek to find that their souls were not unattuned to each other; and the consequences of the intimacy were perceived too late by the drogueman, the young pupil having made a rapid progress in the lessons both of music and love which she had received from our hero. In the first spring of her innocence, therefore, the happiness of Helena flew for ever; and Anastasius, foreseeing that the symptoms of the intercourse were daily growing more evident, left her to scorn, to contempt, and to her own reproaches, abandoning at the same time, and for ever, both Chio and his parental home.

Having gone on board a Venetian brig, in the capacity of a cabin-boy, and when a slight impulse of compunction brought to his view the upbraiding image of Helena, "it is useless," he exclaimed, "to contend! I must yield to my destiny, and perform the things set down for me, be they good or evil." After having been well disciplined by kicks and blows, he assists some Maynote pirates, who had contrived in the silence of the night, and during the intoxication of the crew, to board and seize the vessel. In their turns, both the

captors

captors and their prize were taken by one of the cruizers of Hassan, the Capitan Pasha, or High-Admiral, before Nauplia; and thus, in four days, the young adventurer bore the yoke of four different nations, French, Venetians, Maynotes, and Turks. Hassan's army was then encamped in the plains of Argos, and Anastasius was marched to the camp with his fellow-prisoners: who, being tied together in pairs by a long rope, were easily put in motion by the mere mechanism of a kick bestowed in the rear of the foremost pair.

The sight of the camp awakened a military ardor in his bosom; and the Greek drogueman of the Capitan Pasha, (Mavroyeni) having imbibed a liking for him, took him under his wing with the following encouraging address. "You little Greek rascal, you will corrupt these worthy Roman Catholics, if I leave you; so I'll keep you here, and let them go home, and swing on St. Mark's, after their own fashion." This drogueman had great influence with the Capitan Pasha.-Though thwarted in his military ambition, the little adventurer soon shone in the office of carrying the coffee-pot, or presenting the pipe to his patron; and, being well schooled by an old domestic in the art of flattering the humours of his master, (among other injunctions, he was tutored never to yawn during the said master's long stories,) he soon profited by the admonition. Mavroyeni, being a great man, was soon assured that he had many poor and of course importunate relations; and every day brought forwards a new cousin from the remotest corner of the Levant, who were all willing to do him the honour of sharing his hospitalities: besieging his door, and haunting him as he went to public places. The young coffee-bearer succeeded so well in the dexterous dismission of one of these visitors from the door, that the whole duties of that office were intrusted to him, and he became a sort of Cerberus necessary to the very existence of his master.

Mavroyeni followed the Pasha to Tripolizza against the Arnaoots (Albanians), and Anastasius accompanied Mavroyeni in the same capacity of cafedgee; solaced not indeed with the anticipation of contending with a foe, but with the hope of getting a sly thrust at a straggler. His master, however, procured for him, to his great delight, the privilege of carrying a musket; and this was a high privilege, for among Moslemen it was deemed positive sacrilege for a Greek even to touch fire-arms. Having taken copious draughts of a nameless liquor distributed by the High Admiral to his followers, the young cafedgee, excellently mounted, and finding the

loading

loading of his arms to be too tedious, began to hack and hew with his sabre; cut down, to his great credit, a grim looking Arnaoot; and, being ambitious to take a prisoner, fired at the hindmost of a party of fugitives who had entangled himself in some bushes. Finding him at the last gasp, though with a faint spark of life, the Greek thrust his dagger into his heart before he ventured on any other liberties with his person, and then proceeded to the work of spoliation; in which his industry was rewarded with a pair of silver-mounted pistols, a number of sequins, and a rich dress, of which he soon disincumbered the carcase. That his prowess might not be doubted on his own mere narration, he ended by carrying away the head as his voucher, and as a foot-ball for the Pasha. For this feat of courage, the only quality in vogue with Hassan, the youth was feasted with his approving smiles, and was only prevented on receiving a hint to that effect from the Pasha from turning Moslemin.

Hassan being recalled, our hero is delighted with the prospect of seeing the capital. When in the course of his voyage to Constantinople he comes in sight of his native Chio, a few emotions arise within him; his aged parents, and the injured Helena, rush on his recollections; and he is about to request the drogueman to allow him to be put ashore, and return to his friends. A nail-head, however, mars the project, and changes the colours of his future fate; for it caught his (shaksheer) breeches as he ran down to his master's cabin, threw him off his balance, and cast him headlong on the floor. During his insensibility from the blow, the ship had passed the island, which had dwindled to a speck when he recovered. Chio was then forgotten, and Stamboul (Constantinople) appeared his polar star. The Propontis foamed before the prow, and at last Constantinople rose in all its grandeur to their view.

Here he is advanced to the office of a sort of interpreter to the Greeks and foreigners, who had business with the High Admiral; his duty being to make short stories of long details, and to carry the case to the drogueman; and the cares of his office being relieved by the piastres that slipped between the leaves of his paper. Stamboul, however, where the Greeks were considered by the Turks as inferior beings, began not to be much to his taste: but, as his influence increased with his master, the consequence which it gave him among the other inhabitants of the Greek suburb altered his opinion; and, flattered by the men, and caressed by the women, he said to himself, "It is a charming place." Wishing, however, to