against which we have to contend; this is extremely inimical to the European constitution, so much so, that a considerable loss of labour and attention on the part of the officers of the several establishments must always be calculated upon. During the dry season they perform their duties with tolerable facility, but in the rains they are necessarily left much in arrear. There is also a great diminution of the natural energy of the Europeans, arising from the number of deaths which are frequently happening before their eyes, and from the prospect which at best lies before them of returning to Europe with injured constitutions, and without having the power of saving any thing out of their salaries, whereby to make a compensation for the loss of some of their best years. The report of the commissioners recommends, that this last evil should be remedied by allowing the inferior officers partially to engage in trade and cultivation, and to raise the salaries of the governors, the judges, and the members of council, for whom the resource of trade would be obviously improper, to a respectable sum. None of them at present have salaries more than sufficient for a most œconomical daily maintenance; so very dear as yet is every article, whether native or European. Without some such regulations, whatever may be the fate of other offices, one of the most important departments in the colony, viz. the medical, will never be efficiently or even tolerably filled. This will readily be believed, when we state that, with the exception of the governor in chief, who has 1500l. a year, and the governor of Annamaboe who has 900l.;-the governors of the other settlements have from 200l. to 3007. a year salary-and that of six medical offices of from 250l. to 3007. a year each, four were vacant in the year

1810.

These however are not the only impediments created by the climate; the following phenomenon, though probably favourable in its remote effects, must be expected to make dreadful havoc in a well cultivated plantation.

"Tornados are violent gusts of wind, which come from the eastward, attended by thunder, lightning, and, in general, heavy rain. The violence of the wind seldom continues longer than half an hour; but the scene during the time it continues may be considered as one of the most awfully sublime in nature.-Its approach is foretold by certain appearances, which enable people to be on their guard. A dark cloud, not larger than a man's hand,' is just observed on the verge of the eastern horizon. Faint flashes of lightning, attended sometimes by very distant thunder, are then seen to vibrate in quick succession. The clouds in that quarter become gradually more dense and black; they also increase in bulk, and appear as if heaped on each other. The thunder, which at first was scarcely

noticed, or heard only at long intervals, draws nearer by degrees, and becomes more frequent and tremendous. The blackness of the clouds increases, until a great part of the heavens seems wrapped in the darkness of midnight: and it is rendered still more tremendous, by being contrasted with a glean of light which generally appears in the western horizon. Immediately before the attack of the tornado, there is either a light breeze, scarcely perceptible, from the westward, or as is more common, the air is perfectly calm and unusually still. Men and animals fly for shelter; and, while expectation stands in horror,' the thundering storm in an instant bursts from the clouds. It is impossible for language to convey a just idea of the uproar of the elements which then takes place. 'The temperature of the air is greatly affected by a tornado-' (it becomes cool and clear); and it is not unusual for the thermometer to suffer a depression of eight or ten degrees within two or three minutes after the storm has come on. After a tornado, the body feels invigorated and more active, and the mind recovers much of that elasticity which long-continued heat tends to impair.'" (Fourth Report, p. 89.)

6

The tornado season lasts two months, beginning in March. Then comes the rainy season for about three months, and the dry season prevails generally throughout the remainder of the year; that is from August till March. Occasionally in December, January, and February, a land wind of a very peculiar nature, called the Harmattan, blows for eight, or more consecutive days. It is remarkable for its cold and chilling effects on the human frame, and for the very extraordinary degree of dryness which it produces: the evaporation, while it lasts, proceeding with astonishing rapidity. It is abundantly evident that these singular and sudden revolutions of temperature must be as injurious to vegetable as to animal health;-and were every part of the country equally affected by them, we should be tempted to suspect that a sentence of eternal sterility had been passed against this devoted portion of the globe. But we are happy to find that the impediments are principally confined to the coast. A very few miles inland, the climate is so superiour that the soil is capable of producing almost every article of tropical culture, and is in many places so temperate as to favour the cultivation of European plants and seeds. The articles which succeed best near the sea are rice, sugar-cane, and cotton. The following extract affords so encouraging, and as we believe, so just a view of the capabilities of the interiour of Africa, and leads so directly to the conclusion which strongly presses itself on our minds, with respect to our obligations to incur the expence of supporting our establishments, and struggling as well as we can against the sterility of the coast where they are situated, that we cannot avoid laying it before our readers.

332 Africa as affected by the Abolition of the SLAVE TRADE.

"As we recede from the sea and advance into the interiour, the state of things appears to be much more favourable than it can be said to be on any part of the coast. We witness a life of more industry and more happiness; and a great improvement not only in these important respects, but in soil, climate, and other natural advantages. In short, the capabilities of Africa can be appreciated but in a very inadequate degree, if we confine our observations to the sea coast, and do not proceed inland. The difference, indeed, is visible even a few miles from the shore; but it is still greater the farther we advance into the country. There is no valuable article of tropical culture which might not be raised in this country in great abundance; while its population stands in need of our manufactures, and is accustomed to their use. And when it is considered what the hand of industry has done in the West Indies-in the pestilential swamps of Guiana, for instance-what may not fairly be expected from the rich hills and extensive plains of this country, blessed as it is with a luxuriant soil, and a comparatively healthy climate?" (Fourth Report, p. 100.)

It appears from the report of the commissioners, that the whole expence of our establishments on the coast of Africa does not much exceed 30,000l. per annum, and though many of the officers are, as we have just stated, underpaid, yet by the annihilation of some of the forts now either rendered unnecessary, or from climate or situation ineligible, and the addition of the expence of their establishments to the salaries of those permitted to remain, we believe that the whole may be placed on a very good footing without any additional expence. We will not pay our countrymen so bad a compliment as to suppose, that they will grudge this expence for the chance which we have shewn to exist of carrying civilization, happiness, and christianity among the benighted Africans. It may not however be useless to state, that from the plantations already begun, even near the coast, and the progress which they are daily making, a reasonable expectation may be entertained, that in no great number of years the principal settlements will contribute very much towards defraying the expences of their establishments.

Upon a fair and deliberate review of the information which we have now laid before our readers, we think that the friend of humanity may indulge the cheering hope that a considerable portion of this untravelled continent, which, as far as it is known, presents a degraded view of the human species, may, at length, be reclaimed from its barbarous state, and be made a member of the civilized world.

ART. XIX. Portugal; a Poem, in two Parts. London: Longman and Co. 1812.

In the first article of this number, in which we have reviewed the poem of Lord Byron, we have said a good deal on the creditableness of an addiction to literary pursuits in a young nobleman. In making this remark, however, we were not aware how soon we should have occasion to qualify its generality. As we desire to be understood not to extend our approbation to the abuses of literature, so are we far from intending to compliment the misdirection of talent. Into the province of poetry no man should set his foot without a proper commission. And, once for all, we take upon ourselves in the name and for the honour of the national muse, to protest against the presumption of those who thrust themselves into the rank of minstrels, to record the atchievements of their countrymen, with no higher diploma than the flattery of friends verified by their own inward persuasions. The wise and safe course is to deal very suspiciously with those promises, from within and from without, which assure us of success independent of sacrifice; immunities that dispense with toil; or natural gifts that anticipate the fruit of cultivation. If there be good reason for this caution in general, it is particularly necessary to those who come great or rich into the world. The poet is not often born in the purple. He is usually awakened to intelligence amidst the wild scenery and awful vicissitudes of nature; receives his impressions at first hand, and suffers no check or contraction from the discipline of early refinement. He that at his entrance into life finds a flowery path open before him; society dressed in smiles; companions caressing or dependent; character disguised; and the rude varieties of nature and passion at too great a distance for their force to be feit, or their features discerned, is rarely furnished with those elements of feeling and knowledge which are among the primary constituents of genius, and form, as it were, the patrimony of the poet.

These difficulties the author of the poem on Portugal has, doubtless, had to encounter; and we cannot help suspecting that he has not received from the hand of nature the means of overcoming them. Judging from the specimen before us, he seems to us to have thought, that to write good poetry nothing more was necessary, than to bring together as many of the words and phrases found in those productions, which he has selected for his models (and which seem to be principally those of the Darwin and Della Crusca schools), as could be pressed into the

service of his own plan; and for the success of this method descriptive poetry was certainly the best adapted. Whatever may have been his models, he has been unfortunate. For if we are wrong in imputing to him the imitation of those tawdry patterns, and his ambition has had a higher and more noble aim, though we may respect his choice and his spirit, we cannot congratulate his success.

If there be any one truth in respect to poetic composition, of which we feel the importance more than another, it is thisthat the most sounding diction which the combinations of poetry, or the treasures of the language can supply, will not, however plausibly accumulated, bring into being any thing that deserves the title of poetry, unless the writer himself be capable of imparting from the energies of his own mind the vivifying principle which makes the thoughts breathe, and puts a rational soul into the language. It will be to no end, by mere collision with the thoughts or words of other men, to chafe our own imaginations into a foam. Agitation alone will never raise a shallow stream to the tumultuous effervescence of the ocean. We must expect from it nothing but turbidity or froth, though storm and tempest vex it ever so much. Whether it be owing to perversity of taste, or depravity of imitation, or an insufficient acquaintance with chaste and simple writing, or pruriency of the pen, or precipitancy of judgment in the author of this poem, or lastly from a defect in ourselves, we will not undertake to affirm, but we can say with truth, that, after considerable pains, coupled with a strong disposition to approve, we have found it impossible to feel, or taste, or comprehend, the sentiments, the images, or the meaning of the major part of Lord G. N. Grenville's poem on Portugal.

This being the true situation in which we stand with respect to this poem, we confess we are not properly qualified to review it as critics. The plain fact is, that we are incompetent to pass a critical judgment upon what we are unable to understand.

To vindicate ourselves, however, from the charge of gross stupidity, we will produce a passage or two from the work, which, perhaps, may involve our readers in the same disgrace with ourselves. It may be proper to premise that one great source of the mysteriousness that runs through the whole work is the prodigious number of agents which the author has thought it advisable to introduce into the scene, to carry on its action, we presume, with the greater pomp and solemnity. Not only is every virtue and vice, but every district, city, town, tower, rock, mountain, and river, endued with active life, and with natures extremely susceptible of pain, pleasure, anger, love, and sorrow. To these strong emotions all the finer feelings are added,